Sanctuary

by Courtney McPhail

  Mendez grinned. “He told me they were just friends.”

  “Oh, did he now? Well, that doesn’t really mean anything. You can still be into your friends.” He turned to Mendez and waggled his eyebrows at her. “If you told me you were into men, I’d be so on you.”

  “Well, that’s a disgusting visual,” Mendez said dryly, “But you do have a point. You can still be into your friends.”

  “Ya two mind shuttin’ it so we can get this shit over there and nailed down,” Jackson groused. “The slave driver down there won’t give us a break ‘til it’s done.”

  “Avoiding the subject, classic diversion,” Banks said but at least he lifted up the wall and started moving it to the base.

  They put the one end on the base and then pushed it up so it stood straight. Mendez grabbed the level and checked that they had it straight before she quickly nailed down the corners to keep it steady.

  With it steady, Jackson and Banks knelt down to hammer in the rest of the nails as Mendez grabbed the brackets and screws to reinforce it so the first strong storm didn’t blow the whole thing down.

  For a moment, the only sounds were their hammers and the power drill and Jackson was grateful. The last thing he wanted to hear was more bullshit about Veronica.

  But when the last nail was hammered, Banks sat back on his legs and looked at Jackson.

  “Look, having thought on it, I’ve decided to stay away from Veronica. In the interest of you and me being friends, I will respect the bro code,” Banks said.

  For chrissakes!

  “Do whatever the hell ya want, I don’t care,” Jackson snapped at him and stood up. “I’ll go get the top brace.”

  He stalked away from them but he could still hear them laughing. He knew they were just teasing him and he wasn’t mad at them for it. He’d spent enough time around the both of them to know that teasing was something they did with their friends. He was glad they considered him a friend.

  No, he was pissed at himself for rising to the bait every time. Why couldn’t he just play it cool instead of ending up some blushing idiot who denied everything hard enough to show he was lying?

  Because he was hopeless at this kind of shit and that just made him pissed off at himself even more.

  And maybe that was why he didn’t notice the loose shingle under his foot until it was too late and his leg shot out from under him. He tried to catch his balance but that just fucked up his trajectory even more and he slammed down on the edge of the roof, dazing him so that his lower half slid over the edge.

  He heard the screams around him and it brought him back to focus enough to grab hold of the edge of the roof with one hand as he fell. Pain exploded in his shoulder, darkening his vision and numbing his fingers and he lost his grip on the edge. His vision came back for a second, his eyes focusing on the horrified faces of Mendez and Banks above him before he hit the ground and everything went black.

  Subject File # 750

  Administrator: Are you okay...after what happened?

  Subject: Honestly, no.

  Veronica raced up the path to the clinic, her heart hammering in her ears as she bounded up the steps. When Banks had come running up to them at the garden, she hadn’t heard anything more than “Jackson fell off the roof” before she had bolted for the clinic at a dead run.

  She burst through the door, gasping for breath as she ran down the hallway and skidded to a stop in front of one of the rooms where she could hear voices.

  Mendez and Quinton were standing next to one of the hospital beds where Jackson was laid out. He was propped up on his left elbow, his other arm cradled in his lap and she noticed that the shoulder of that arm looked strange. Blood was caked in the hair at his temple and Quinton had his penlight pointed at the wound there.

  “Are you okay?” she gasped out between panting breaths.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Jackson grunted between clenched teeth. “‘Cept my ankle hurts and my shoulder’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

  “You dislocated it,” Quinton said, brushing back Jackson’s hair so he could get a better look at the wound on his head. “I’m more worried about your head injury.”

  “Barely hit it,” Jackson said. “Took the brunt of it on my shoulder.”

  “Alright, Mendez, can you grab an ice pack and a couple ace bandages out of the black cabinet over there?” Quinton said, nodding towards the metal cabinets that were on the far wall. “Then get some ibuprofen from the blue cabinet, it’s on the second self.”

  She moved off to do as he asked and Quinton moved around to point his penlight in Jackson’s eyes to test his pupils. “Follow my finger.”

  Jackson gritted his teeth and did as Quinton asked, following his finger as he moved it around.

  “Good, nice responses,” Quinton said, pocketing his penlight. “I don’t think you have a concussion and the wound isn’t deep enough to need stitches.”

  “See, told you you’ve got a hard head,” Mendez teased him when she handed one of the instant ice packs to Quinton. “How many pills?”

  “Two,” Quinton replied as he squeezed the instant ice packs to get them working. Mendez handed two pills to Jackson and he dry swallowed them while Quinton placed the ice packs on his injured shoulder.

  “Hold them,” he told Mendez and he grabbed one of the bandages and began to wrap it over the ice packs and across Jackson’s chest and under his other arm. “The pills and the ice will help with inflammation. Once it goes down in a bit, I’ll reset your shoulder.”

  Veronica felt like she was in the twilight zone. Everyone was acting like it was no big deal that Jackson had fallen off a roof. She could barely keep her heart from bursting out of her chest and her face was on fire along with a stitch that had suddenly started cramping in her side.

  All sorts of horrible images had flashed through her mind as she ran to the clinic. Jackson with his limbs twisted and shattered. A broken neck, a shattered spine, his skull cracked open on the dock. She had thought he was going to die and here he was, battered but talking and being teased by Mendez.

  She suddenly felt lightheaded, like all the blood in her body had rushed to her feet.

  Her knees shook and she looked around the room that seemed to tilt on its axis until her eyes lit on Jackson.

  He was watching her, his face worried. “Ya okay?”

  “Yeah, I just…need to sit down or something.”

  She sank down to her knees and braced her hands on her legs as she took a couple deep breaths. It helped and she could feel her blood coming back to her head and the world shifted back to the correct angles.

  “Don’t pass out over there.”

  She looked up to find Jackson looking down at her, concern on his face. She gave him a weak smile as she straightened up.

  “I’m okay, I just thought…Banks said you fell off the roof and I thought the worst.”

  Mendez clucked her tongue. “That boy, I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t that bad. Banks is always so dramatic. It was only an eight foot drop.”

  “Felt more like twenty,” Jackson grumbled, deep lines forming in his face from the pain.

  “Please, now you’re the one being dramatic.”

  Veronica felt stupid for being so worried. She had rushed over here like a maniac, burst through the door and almost fainted while he was fine and clearly being taken care of by Mendez.

  “Well, since you guys seem to be fine, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “No, we’re going to need your help when we reset his shoulder,” Quinton said. “He has to remain still so I’ll need you and Mendez to hold him down.”

  “I ain’t a pussy, doc, I can keep still,” Jackson said.

  “Yeah, I don't trust your macho ego to keep you still,” Quinton replied. “You fight it and it could make it worse. Now let’s take a look at that ankle.”

  Quinton went down to the end of the bed and unlaced his boot. Jackson hissed as Quinton pulled his boot and sock off. His ankle wa
s swollen and a nasty bruise was already forming beneath his skin. Quinton began to palpate and flex the joint, Jackson biting down on his bottom lip and Veronica could see the lines in his face deepen with the pain.

  “Good news is it’s only a sprain,” Quinton said, gently putting down Jackson’s foot and grabbing up another ice pack for his ankle. “After we ice it for a bit, I’ll wrap it in a compression bandage. You’ll have to try to keep your weight off of it for the next couple of days.”

  “Ya serious? I’m gonna be out for a coupla days? We got shit to get done.”

  “If a couple of days pisses you off, you’re gonna be livid when I tell you that you’re going to have to be in a sling for a few weeks and avoid any heavy lifting for at least six weeks.”

  “Fuckin’ unbelievable,” Jackson cursed, the hand on his good arm clenching into a fist. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Fallin’ off a goddamn roof like a stupid asshole, fuck!”

  Veronica stood, wanting to go tell him not to beat himself up but Mendez was already on it putting a reassuring hand on his knee. “Hey, it’s not your fault. The shingle was loose and slipped when you stood on it. It could have happened to any of us.”

  Veronica felt even more out of place and all she wanted was to leave. She might have made her peace with the knowledge that nothing would happen between her and Jackson but that didn’t mean she was ready to see him with somebody else. She didn’t have enough control over her emotions to keep her jealousy hidden and she knew that if he saw it, it would sour their friendship. No matter what, she couldn’t alienate Jackson. Not just for herself but because the girls needed it. There had been so much change and upheaval in their lives, they needed something they could rely on and that was her and Jackson being there for them.

  “Is his shoulder ready to be reset?” she asked as she walked over to join them.

  Quinton glanced at his watch and nodded. “Yeah, we can take the ice off. Veronica, unfasten the bandage on that side.”

  She reached under his arm and unhooked the clips on the bandage and helped unwrap it from around his shoulder and chest while Quinton held the ice packs. When they were removed, Quinton told him to lay down flat on the bed.

  “Okay, I’m going to have to put your arm straight out at your side so that’s going to hurt the most and you have to try not to move too much,” Quinton said. “Mendez, hold his injured ankle so it’s immobilized. He could make it worse if he flexes it. Veronica, I need you to hold him down so he stays flat on his back.”

  Veronica leaned over Jackson, pressing her forearm across his chest while her other hand held down his good shoulder and she braced her weight on her forearm. She was face to face with him and she could see the pain in his eyes. He was doing his best to fight it but it was wearing him down and it was starting to shine through.

  “It’ll be okay, it’s almost over,” she told him quietly and she felt his good arm shifting beneath her and his hand slid up between them to grasp the hand on his chest. He squeezed her hand and she smiled down at him. “Just look at me.”

  She kept her eyes steady on his as Quinton began to pull on Jackson’s injured arm. Jackson hissed, his body tensing beneath her but she kept her weight on him and his grip on her hand tightened like a vise.

  “Look at me,” she told him as he began to pant. She could see tears had formed in the corner of his eyes. “Just look at me, it’s almost over.”

  A muffled click sounded and Jackson’s body felt like a balloon deflating beneath her as his muscles relaxed.

  “There we go,” Quinton said. “All fixed.”

  She looked down at him and saw that the pain lines that had been around his eyes and mouth were gone. She straightened up but he kept a hold of her hand.

  “I’ll get you a sling for your shoulder from the storage room and then I’ll wrap your ankle,” Quinton said and left the room.

  Mendez pressed down on the mattress, testing out its firmness. “Doesn’t seem like this will be too bad for you to sleep on for a couple days.”

  “The hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked.

  “Doctor said you have to keep your weight off it for a couple days,” Mendez reminded him. Just like Jackson, Veronica hadn’t realized that would mean he would have to stay here. Their cabin was all the way on the other side of the island after all.

  “I can bring you some things from the cabin so you’ll be comfortable here,” Veronica offered, stepping back from the bed but he tightened his hold on her hand as he shook his head.

  “I ain’t stayin’ here. Get me some crutches and I’ll walk back to the cabin.”

  “You can’t use crutches with your shoulder the way it is,” Veronica said.

  “I don’t wanna stay here, I wanna sleep in my own bed.”

  “You sleep on a couch,” Veronica pointed out with a smirk.

  He glowered at her. “Fine, I wanna sleep on my own couch.”

  “Is it really your own couch?” Mendez said. “We’ve only been here for two days, can we really call it ours?”

  “Ya know I don’t cater to that philosophical bullshit,” Jackson replied.

  “And you know that I think you should because it would make you a happier person,” Mendez replied.

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Told ya I’m plenty happy already, s’long as I can get the hell outta here. I ain’t a complete invalid, I don’t gotta stay in the hospital.”

  “I’m sure Banks and Nas won’t mind carrying you again,” Mendez said. “They got you here, they can get you back to your cabin.”

  “I ain’t gonna be carried like some fuckin’ baby,” Jackson spat out.

  Veronica had to hide a smile as she stood by silently. Apparently he wasn’t above snapping at Mendez like he did to everyone else. She had expected the woman to be offended that he spoke to her like that but all she did was roll her eyes.

  “You’re sure acting like a baby,” she told him. “You don’t want to stay here so I’m actually trying to help with that instead of pitching a fit. How about we put you in the ATV wagon? Haul you back to the cabin. Would that be dignified enough for you, your highness?”

  “S’fine,” he muttered and Veronica could see the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

  “Honestly Veronica, I do not know how you’ve put up with his bullshit for so long,” Mendez said. “You’re a better woman than I am. If I was you, I would have kicked his stubborn ass to the curb a long time ago.”

  Veronica wasn’t sure how to respond to that but thankfully, it seemed Mendez wasn’t expecting a response as she headed towards the door.

  “I’ll go get the ATV and pull it around,” she said and headed outside, leaving them alone.

  “How’s your pain?” Veronica asked.

  “Not so bad now my shoulder’s back in place,” he said. “Ankle ain’t too bad, think that’s mostly the ice numbin’ it though. Probably gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said and was surprised to find her voice catching on the last word as tears filled her eyes.

  “Hey,” he said, his forehead creasing in concern and he squeezed her hand. “Don’t cry. I’m okay, just said so yerself.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “I know. They’re happy tears. I thought all sorts of horrible things when I was running here. I’m just happy I was wrong.”

  “Gonna take more than a roof to take me out,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  She couldn’t help herself and she pulled her hand out of his so she could hug him, mindful of his injured shoulder. After a moment, he brought his good arm up and wrapped it around her and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

  “Don’t scare me like that again,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  “I won’t,” he replied as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. She shuddered slightly under his caress and inhaled the scent of wood and oil that she had come to associate with him. For a moment she could forget all the drama and the uncertainty of wha
t was between them. Right now he was here, in her arms, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Someone cleared their throat and Veronica lifted her head to see Quinton standing in the doorway with a sling and a couple ice packs in his hands. She reluctantly let Jackson go and straightened up as Quinton approached the bed.

  “Sorry, took me a bit to find the slings. They were boxed up in the back,” he said unfolded the sling. “Veronica, help him get his shirt off while I wrap his ankle and then we’ll get the sling on.”

  “Why do I need my shirt off?” Jackson asked.

  “You’ve got blood on it from your head and you ripped a hole in the back of it when you hit the roof,” Quinton said. “Figured you wouldn’t want to wear it for the next few days. Easier to take it off before you got the sling on.”

  Jackson nodded and Quinton got the bandage for his ankle. Veronica helped Jackson pull his good arm out of the sleeve and then over his head before sliding the rest of the shirt down his immobile arm.

  She tried not to stare at him, knowing that he was self-conscious about his scars, but that wasn’t what had her attention. She was drawn to the line of light brown hair that ran down his flat abdomen before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  Ugh, she was disgusting. Here he was, injured and in pain and she couldn’t keep from eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

  She concentrated on looking at the rip in his shirt, judging if she could sew it up, before she folded it neatly and put it over her arm.

  Quinton fastened the bandage around Jackson’s ankle and then got him situated with his sling, tightening the strap around his neck until he was satisfied with the position.

  “I’ll give you some more ibuprofen to take in six hours. It’ll help with the inflammation and some of the pain. We’ve got stronger stuff but it’s all opiates. If you want, I can give you some. We can watch the dose and--”

  “Don’t want that shit,” Jackson interrupted. “Ibuprofen’s fine.”

  Quinton nodded and handed over two bottles. “I’ve got sleeping pills for you too. They’ll help you sleep through the pain.”