Page 103 of Big Dill

“I’m here,” I say. “I’m driving. We’re almost home. We had no signal at the cottage. What happened?”

There’s a pause. Not long, but long enough to set my nerves on edge.

“I was on my way home from work,” he says. “It was dark. Didn’t see the ice. Slipped and—” He blows out a breath. “Tore my damn ACL.”

“Fuck,” I curse. Beside me, Jami’s face crumples, her hand flying to her mouth like she can physically hold the fear in.

“Oh, Jax,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry we missed your calls. We had no signal at the cottage and heard the helicopter yesterday, but we didn’t know it was you. If we did⁠—”

“There was nothing you could have done anyway,” he says quickly, like he needs her to believe that. “The doc in town thought I needed to be seen at the hospital in Lab City, so they airlifted me.”

“I’m glad you’re getting the care you need,” I tell him, working to keep my voice calm.

“I’ll need surgery,” he continues, his voice suddenly tired, the bravado slipping. “But they have to wait until the swelling goes down.”

“Are you coming home?” Jami asks, her voice a little high pitched.

“Surgery’s scheduled for next week,” he says. “And I’d rather not fly twice. Brody, your mom called your cousin Devon. He’s on his way to pick me up. I’ll crash at his place. Real nice of your mom to do that, and nice of Devon to take me in.”

“You’re family, Jaxon.” I say and guilt floods me as I glance at Jami.

“I’m getting on the next flight,” Jami says, already sounding determined.

“No,” Jaxon says, firmer now. “You’ve got yoga, childcare… and with me not at the social, you’re going to be needed to lend a hand, if you don’t mind.”

She looks at me, eyes glossy, searching. I nod, even though my gut twists at the thought of her not being there with him. She swipes angrily at her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice breaking. “I wish I’d been there.”

There’s a grunt on the other end, like he’s shifting, trying to get comfortable. Trying not to make it worse than it is.

“Are you in pain?” she asks.

“I was,” he admits, his words followed by a wobbly chuckle. “They’ve got that handled now.”

“What can I do?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady for Jami’s sake, even as something tight coils in my chest. Guilt. Regret. If we hadn’t gone away. If Jaxon had the truck. If any one small thing had been different⁠—

“Just…you two take care of each other and the club,” Jaxon says. “I’ll be fine.”

“We can do that.”

“Jaxon,” Jami mutters.

“Hey, chin up, little sis. I’m okay, and I don’t want this to bring you down.” She swallows and nods, even though he can’t see her. “I did a lot of the admin work before the accident,” he continues. “And I can log in with Devon’s laptop if anything urgent comes up. But…” His voice falls off, and I throw a quick, uneasy glance at Jami, bracing for the blow. “I’m going to be laid up… in need of physio.”

“You know I’m there for you, Jaxon.”

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” he says, but there’s something in his voice, something he hasn’t said yet and that’s when it hits me.

“Pickleball,” I mutter, my stomach tightening. “The tournament.”

“Right,” he breathes out. “Pickleball. The tournament.”

Jami shakes her head, like she’s responsible for this disaster, but she’s not. I am.

“You’re not going to be able to play sports for… what… nine to twelve months?” I ask, as I think about the last guy I helped heal from an ACL injury.

“Probably not,” he admits, his voice tight. “It’ll depend on how fast I heal, but… the September tournament is out.”