The Exposure

The crash came the next morning.

Elena woke up on the couch. The sun was streaming in. She felt groggy.

She stretched, and a wave of pain hit her.

Her joints ached. Her head pounded. And when she swallowed, it felt like she had swallowed glass.

She sat up, gasping.

"No," she whispered. "No, please."

She touched her forehead. It was burning.

The terror that washed over her was absolute. It wasn't fear for herself. It was fear for *him*.

Jax. Immunocompromised from surgery stress. Recovering.

And she had kissed him. She had been breathing his air for weeks.

She scrambled off the couch, ignoring the dizziness. She grabbed her phone and ran to the door.

Jax walked out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes, wearing only sweatpants. He looked happy.

"Morning, beautiful," he mumbled. "Coffee?"

"Don't come near me," Elena rasped. Her voice was wrecked.

Jax stopped. He saw her face—pale, sweaty, terrified. "El? What’s wrong?"

"I'm sick," she choked out. "I have a fever. My throat..."

Jax’s face went white. "Okay. Okay, calm down. We'll get a test."

"Get away from me!" Elena screamed as he took a step. "Jax, stop! I exposed you! I exposed the dogs!"

She ripped the door open.

"El, wait!"

"Lock the door!" she yelled. "Sanitize everything! Don't open it until I call you!"

She ran into the hallway and slammed her own apartment door shut behind her. She threw the deadbolt. She slid down the door to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

She was the poison. She had known it all along. She had let her guard down, and now she might have killed the only person who made her feel alive.

The isolation was immediate and brutal.

Elena lay in her bed, shivering under three blankets. She arranged for a rapid test to be dropped off by a colleague.

Positive or Negative? The question hung over her like a guillotine.

Her phone buzzed incessantly.

*Jax: Open the door, El.*

*Jax: I don't care if you're sick. Let me help.*

*Jax: How’s your fever?*

*Jax: The puppies miss you.*

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

She could hear him through the wall. He was playing the guitar—badly. He was talking to the dogs.

"We're waiting for Mom," he was saying loudly, knowing she could hear. "She's just in a time-out."

Elena buried her face in her pillow and sobbed. If she tested positive, she would have to leave. She would have to go to a hotel. She couldn't risk him.

The rapid test results would take twenty-four hours.

It was the longest night of her life.

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