“Give it one good swing, and it should catch,” Jay said.
I lined it up carefully, determined not to make a fool of myself. I swung and hit the nail dead on. I was proud of myself for a mere millisecond.
And then the nail didn’t budge…
Instead, the hammer ricocheted like a boomerang and smacked me square in the mouth.
“OW!” I yelped, dropping the hammer and clutching my mouth.
Jay’s head whipped toward me, his expression turning quickly to one of horror. “Hope. Are you okay?”
I groaned as sharp pain shot through my front teeth, and the taste of blood swept across my tongue. I reachedup in agony, touching the spot where the stupid hammer had just struck me.
“Ugh, no. I hit my tooth.”
Jay’s hands fell on my shoulders, and he carefully guided me to the porch steps. As I sat down, I let out another groan. Tears stung my eyes, coming to the surface in a mix of pain and sheer humiliation. Of course, I couldn’t just hammer a nail like a normal person.
“Let me see,” Jay demanded gently, crouching in front of me.
“It’s probably broken,” I cried, beginning to panic as I pictured myself with a giant gap where my front tooth should be. It was every dental professional's worst nightmare.
“Hope, look at me.” His hands cupped my face, steady and warm. I obeyed and lifted my chin so he could inspect my face more closely. I watched him through blurry, tear-filled eyes as he assessed the damage.
“Nothing’s chipped,” he said finally, “but we should get the front two X-rayed, just in case.”
“I need a paper towel,” I muttered, tasting blood on my tongue.
“I’ll grab some.” He disappeared inside and reappeared with half the roll.
Ripping off a handful, I pressed the wad to my mouth and winced. The slight wiggle in my number eight tooth nearly sent me spiraling again.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.I was not going to panic until I got it X-rayed.
“Where’s the closest dental clinic?” I mumbled into the paper towels.
“Just a few minutes from here. I’ll drive.” He held out a hand to help me up.
“I can go by myself. I don’t need you to?—”
Jay shook his head, not at all convinced. “You keep the towel pressed to your tooth, and I’ll drive. Let’s not see if your special talent for hitting things extends to the car.”
I shot him a glare, which probably lost some edge given the bloodstained paper towel plastered to my face. But I didn’t argue when he opened the passenger-side door for me.
I slid into the leather seat and fumbled with the seat belt. As I struggled to click it into place, I had the epiphany that when we got to the clinic, I’d have to pay for the visit. I muffled a string of curses into the paper towel just as the driver-side door opened and Jay got behind the wheel.
I didn’t have any money for a dental checkup, let alone an emergency one. And what if I actually needed treatment? I was so screwed.
Jay started the truck and eased onto the main road. I leaned back against the seat, clutching the paper towel to my mouth. My tooth still throbbed, and I concentrated on not sobbing in front of him.
“I’m swowwy,” I mumbled, muffled by the paper towel.
Jay gave me a small, wry smile. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t quite translate that one. Try again?”
I peeled the towel away with a wince. “I’m sorry. This is not exactly how I wanted this to go. I promise I’m not usually this pathetic.”
He quickly shook his head. “Pathetic? Not at all. It could’ve happened to anyone, Hope.”
I grimaced. Why did I think he was only saying that to make me feel better?
