“Yes, ma’am.” He honestly wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not. He mostly wanted to be here with Linc, but part of him felt like he was letting his crew down, not being able to go out with them, see this fire through. Hopefully he’d be well enough for some mop-up duty.
Once Sims was on her way, he took a minute to take a deep breath, steeling himself for seeing Linc, for the talk they needed to have, but also for all his mixed emotions—relief that he wasn’t more seriously hurt, guilt that it was saving Jacob that had injured him, hurt that it took near-death to get Linc willing to talk in the first place, and a bunch of other things he was refusing to label. His shoulders tensed and despite the late hour, his nerves clanged with leftover adrenaline.
The nearest bed in the room was empty, curtain pulled back, and a weary-looking Linc in the second bed. Jacob’s eyes burned, and he had to lean into the wall, stop himself from rushing to him.
“You awake?” he asked, voice rough.
“Thought I might have heard your voice.” Even with his tired eyes and pale skin, Linc still managed half of a smile. He gestured at Jacob’s arm. “What’s with the new accessory? Wasn’t that you who was rather insistent that you weren’t hurt?”
“Yeah. Apparently, I’m a crappy judge of a non-displaced scaphoid fracture.”
“Damn it. I’m sorry.”
“You saved my freaking life. I’ll take the broken wrist.” He shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the injury, and not wanting Linc to feel guilty about it either. “It’ll heal. They say I probably won’t need surgery for it. Tell me about your leg?”
“Sims didn’t tell you?” Linc groaned and gestured at his strapped-up leg, which was propped up on pillows. “Sprained ankle. But the knee... It’s my ACL.”
“Oh, fuck.” Jacob had been around sports enough years to know that injury always sucked. “All those years of work and jumps, and one lunging tackle did it? Damn. I guess you’re lucky football didn’t do you in. Surgery?”
“Yeah. That’s coming. It’s not the worst type of complete tear, but they still want surgery. I’m on concussion observation first. They say I got away with a mild one, but they’re being cautious.”
“Good.” Jacob dragged one of the visitor chairs over to the bed, not wanting to continue to loom over Linc, and also not being in a hurry to leave. “You let them be cautious. That bump still looks nasty.”
“Yeah. Ruined my chances of modeling.” Linc laughed, then grimaced. “Only bad part of being under observation is they’re limited in what they can give me for the knee right now.”
“I’m sorry. Fucking sucks. I’d give anything...” Jacob sighed and shook his head. “You saved my life, like I said. And now...surgery. And then recovery. It’s not fair.”
“Fuck that talk. Not fair is Garrick right now. This...” Linc pointed at his leg. “Is nothing. I’ll be back out there. Eventually. And if it saved you, I’d give both knees. Hell, take a kidney. You safe is everything. I wasn’t going to let those branches take you out. Not before...”
And there they were, back to the whole need-to-talk thing.
“I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said gruffly.
“Yeah, you were.” Linc’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “And with good reason. Like you said... I was a cowardly bastard.”
“Maybe not quite that.” Jacob winced at his own words. “And maybe I was a little hasty with the ultimatums. And maybe now isn’t the time to rehash all of that. What matters is that you’re okay.”
“No, what matters is that I hurt you.” Linc stretched out a hand. Jacob spared a glance at the door before taking it. “And I’m sorry.”
“You did. But I don’t want you all worked up over that tonight.”
“Maybe I do.” Linc made a frustrated noise. “Damn it, why won’t you let me apologize?”
“Because perhaps it’s not needed? I mean, I appreciate you being sorry. But I also see now that I can’t make you feel things that maybe you don’t. Can’t force you to change your priorities. And it’s not just about me. I get that I can’t make you choose me, but I also can’t seem to make you choose yourself.”
And that right there was why he hadn’t wanted this conversation earlier. Still didn’t want it. Wasn’t sure how he got to a place where he could trust Linc’s apology or accept it, because if nothing real was going to change, maybe it didn’t matter how bad Linc felt about hurting him. As he tried to figure out how to explain that, his phone buzzed at the same time as Linc’s.
“Garrick,” they said in unison, a joint prayer lifted up, cutting through their disagreement. But when Jacob checked his phone, the message was from his mom.
“Fuck. My mom just heard about Garrick and the accident. She’s pissed.”