Page 72 of Leading the Blind
“Does it hurt?” Bax muttered.
“Tingles. I’m okay. I did good, huh?” Ninety-five was fucking better than good. That meant one more event down. One more check to do improvements on their house.
“Yep. One day closer to the finals, babe.”
Doc swept in seconds after they made it to sports medicine. “Back here, Jason.”
Bax took him to a curtained-off area, he thought, from the sound of the metal rings on a bar.
“Okay, we’re the only ones back here. How bad are your eyes, Jason?”
“I—” What was he supposed to say? “The bull hit my back, Doc.”
“I know. Take off your shirt and I’ll look at that and your wrist. I’m not going to give you a hard time, but I need to know.”
“You’ve seen the scans, Doc,” Bax said.
“Mmm.” Doc prodded at his back. “So it’s all gone. Do you understand how fucking dangerous this is?”
“I got this. Just through the finals. Please. Just through the finals.”
Doc came around to turn his wrist this way and that. “I’ll tell you what I told Sam Bell. I advise against it. However, I’ll let it go until the end of this season. If it goes past the finals, I’ll have to talk to Ace. Believe it or not, I do understand.”
“I bought a house. Me and Andy Baxter. We bought a house. I need to win the finals.” He needed that win.
“I hear you. I don’t like it. You’ve got eight events left. That’s twenty-four rides before the finals. That’s harsh.” Doc touched his back again, and he hissed. “Jonesy, get the ice.”
“Keep it together, Jase.” Dillon’s voice was soft. “You got this.”
Right. Confident. Sure. He had this. He wasn’t worried. He knew how to ride. “Gonna have a bruise, huh, Doc?”
“And how.”
Jonesy whistled. “You start peeing blood, you come back in.”
“Will do.” Like he’d know. He wasn’t going to stress. The touch of the ice was like heaven and hell all at once, and he panted a little. “Did I break the cast?”
“No. You got lucky, Jason.” Now Doc sounded back to normal, all bark-y and stuff. “Don’t get hung up.”
“Right. I’m on it.” His heart raced, and he wanted to puke. Fuck him, he was tired, his adrenaline running out and just bringing pain with it.
“Come on, Mini. Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ll make him rest, Doc.” Bax sounded as blown out as he felt.
“I want that ice on him. Jonesy, give him a shot. I want him sleeping. When do you head out, Andy? Are you flying or driving?”
“We’re just going to the hotel tonight, then driving out tomorrow.” Bax was still touching his good arm. “Is it that bad?”
“Nah. Nah, it’s just tingling,” he lied. “I got this.”
“If I give you some pills for later, will you take them?” Jonesy asked.
“Sure, man. I just want to go get supper and chill.” Sundays were early. He didn’t have to stress it.
“Good deal. I’ll take your word.”
“Be safe, son,” Doc said, then he was moving on.
“See?” Dillon murmured in his ear. “All good.”
