“No worries. I’m fine,” Taylor told him.
“I’ve got her. Thanks,” Jamar said. He turned his attention back to her once the attendant left. “What do you mean no? You need to get an X-ray. Your ankle’s probably broken.”
“It’s not broken. And I don’t need to go to a hospital. I just need some ice.” She pointed to a padded bench. “Help me over there.”
He held her upright as she limped toward the bench, emitting a tiny yelp with every step she took. She was one of the toughest people he’d ever met; for her to openly show such discomfort meant she was in excruciating pain.
“This is ridiculous. Let me take you to the ER, Taylor.”
“Okay, I know this concept may be a little hard for you to grasp as a super-rich football player, but it costs money to go to the hospital. And, yes, I have Obamacare, but the deductible is sky-high. I’m not wasting money on an ER visit just so some doctor can tell me to put an ice pack on my ankle and pop a couple of Aleve!”
Jamar closed his eyes. Damn, but she was stubborn. “I’ll pay the bill. The only reason you hurt yourself is because I goaded you.”
“You have a point,” she groused. “This is your fault.”
“And I take full responsibility. Now let me make up for it by taking you to the hospital.” He went to stroke her ankle, but she flinched before he could touch it.
“I guess I should say yes since I’m about to burst into tears from the pain.”
Jamar cursed under his breath. “Do you think you can get in my SUV, or should I call for an ambulance?”
“Maybe not your SUV.” She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded toward the duffel bag she’d brought in with her. “We’ll take Nessie. My keys are in the zippered compartment in the front.”
“You named your car?”
“This is not the time for judging,” she hissed. “Just get the keys.”
He retrieved the keys from the black duffel. “APrincess and the Frogkeychain?” he asked.
“Again with the judging?”
“I’m not judging.” He needed to quit while he was ahead. “I’ll get the car. Give me just a minute.”
He had to adjust the seat before he could get in. He slipped behind the wheel of her little Nissan Sentra, but when he tried to close the door, he grabbed nothing but air.
“Where’s the door handle?”
Jamar had to stop himself from immediately calling his favorite auto dealership. It was not his place to buy her a new car, no matter how much she desperately needed one.
He brought the car around and found Taylor waiting for him at the entrance, assisted by the gym attendant. Together they guided her into the car’s back seat. Jamar wadded up a jacket and placed her swelling ankle on it to keep it elevated.
“I have a friend who works at Travis County Hospital,” she said. “I’m texting her now.”
When they arrived, a woman Jamar immediately recognized from that viral video was waiting outside the ER. She ran to the car and opened the back door before he could get to it.
She briefly glanced Jamar’s way. “What happened here?”
“I was showing off,” Taylor said from inside the car. “Jamar, this is London. London, Jamar. And despite whatever he says, this wasmyfault. I tried to do a fancy kickboxing move and fell on my ass. I’m really hoping it isn’t broken—not my ass, my ankle.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t break your head,” London said.
“That’s too hard to break.” Taylor laughed, then winced as they helped her into a wheelchair. “I really can’t afford a broken ankle.”
“I told you—” Jamar said.
“I’m not talking about the bill. I’m talking about not being able to work.”
“Let radiology have a look at it,” London told her. “It’ll be okay.”
