Page 29 of Eight Seconds

“You don’tneedthis win, Charlie.” Wilder reaches to undo the top few buttons on my shirt, and I admit the extra breathing space for my fevered skin is nice. “You’ve already secured your finals spot. I’m worried about you. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

I can’t help the unimpressed look I give him. He nods in agreement. There’s no point asking me something like that. I grit my teeth, pressing my lips together as tightly as I can when another sharp pain travels the length of my ear canal and rattles around my head.

“You said your head hurts, too?” Wilder pulls my hat off my head, baby hairs sticking to the film of sweat now firmly on my forehead. His hands search gently, looking for injury. I decide it’s no use lying anymore.

“My left ear,” I admit. “Like, inside, where I can’t reach. Feels like someone is trying to build a house in there. Makes my whole head fuzzy when it’s sharp and sudden.”

Now that I’ve decided honesty is the best policy, the full weight of how truly awful I feel comes crashing onto me. My body is weak, my head heavy, and the Texas heat, coupled with my fever, makes me feel like I’m burning from the inside out. A little of my discomfort is lifted by my admission.

“Let’s go.” He reaches past me for Rooney’s lead. My horse comes willingly, the velvet of his nose stopping long enough to investigate my cheek. The derisive chuff he gives lets me know he does not approve of my plan to ignore my symptoms. I offer my apology by rubbing his snout and jaw.

“Go where?” I ask, my feet following him and Rooney before I fully think about it.

“I’m going to get Rooney settled while you change your clothes, then I’m taking you to the clinic.” I like the way he includes taking care of my horse while also looking out for me.It’s nice to be taken care of,I decide as we make our way back to the trailer.

Inside my trailer, it takes more than a little effort to focus on getting a pair of soft shorts and a tee on when my fluffy bed is calling to me. But just as I think about crawling into it and letting the pain and discomfort consume me, Wilder’s back, slipping my feet into a worn pair of sneakers. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge as we pass on our way out of the truck.

I’m beginning to feel a little like a rag doll when Wilder helps me get into the cab, lifting me by my hips and settling me on the seat before he leans across and buckles me in. He presses the water bottle into my hands, popping the top of the spout and pointing at me. “Drink.” He backs out of the cab, then points again when I don’t lift the bottle. “Slowly, Charlie. You need to stay hydrated.”

Lifting the bottle, I bob my head in agreement, letting the cold liquid coast down my throat. I continue to sip, semi-coherently paying attention as Wilder gets us to the nearby urgent care clinic. The lot has two cars parked out front, so I’m hopeful it won’t take long to get checked out. I just want to get back to the trailer and sleep the fever off. Even with the pain in my ear, I’m convinced sleep will make that go away, too.

There’s more shuffling, and then I’m sitting in a God-awful lobby chair that has definitely seen better days, with Wilder bringing a clipboard and pen over to sit next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder, trying to stay alert enough to answer the questions he’ll have as he fills out the form.

I don’t know how long it’s been, but there’s the tiniest of nudges and I blink my eyes open. I must have dozed off.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I don’t know how long ago your symptoms started or who you want listed as your emergency contact, but I think I have everything else filled out.” Wilder tips the clipboard so I can see his scrawling words. My name, birthdate, and all other manner of contact information is filled in. He’s even managed to list my birth control under the “active prescriptions” section and included my allergy to penicillin. He waits patiently as my chest squeezes with how much I love this man.

“Uh.” I sit up, trying to focus my thoughts. “The ear was bothering me a little bit yesterday, but the fever didn’t start until this morning.”

Wilder takes down the information. “But the ear pain became worse today, right? I saw you pressing it all afternoon.” Remorse flashes over his face. “I just thought it was pressure or something. Maybe that weird ringing thing that happens sometimes. I didn’t know you were so uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you,” I admit, feeling shameful. I look down at the tiled floor, one brighter white than another as if it was recently replaced. “But, yeah, the pain’s become really bad. And even with the medicine, I don’t think the fever has come down. I feel really awful.”

There’s a distinct tremble in my voice. Most days I feel like a strong, independent woman, and in this life that’s exactly what I need to be. Even Wilder’s presence hasn’t fully shaken me from the belief that I need to be twice as tough and twice as resilient as everyone on the circuit. But as another wave of pain radiates from my ear, I feel every ounce of the loneliness and self-pity I usually keep at bay. I don’t want to tackle this by myself.

“I know you do, baby.” Wilder’s lips are cool against my temple. “We’re going to get you looked at, and then I’m going to get you back in bed so you can sleep, okay?”

Wilder competed last night, so if he does exactly what he says, I won’t have to add guilt to my complicated emotions. I don’t want to be the cause of another scratch on his record. He’s going to take care of me.

“Who should I put as your emergency contact?” he asks, focusing on the intake form again. “I don’t have your parents’ number, but I guess I could look up the ranch’s number online.”

He begins reaching for his phone, but I put my hand over his, stopping his quest.

“I know my parents would answer if I needed them. But they’re not who I would want to call.” I rest my head against his shoulder again, ignoring the seat of the chair sticking to the back of my legs. “Put your number down and turn in the form, please.”

Wilder is still for a moment, and even though I close my eyes in discomfort, I can tell he’s giving me a warm, wondrous smile. Then the pen scratches out the information, and he rises slowly, giving me time to adjust, before he walks the form back to the nurses’ station. He hasn’t even taken his seat when they call my name, and he pulls me to my feet. He sees me to the door dividing the lobby from the patient rooms and kisses me once, wordlessly letting me know he’ll wait for me.

* * *

“I haven’t had an ear infection since I was six. This feels so unbelievably embarrassing.” I lean my head against the truck window as Wilder climbs back in from retrieving my prescription at the nearby pharmacy. He sets the white bag full of my antibiotics in the console between us. He has another bag full of electrolyte drinks and other rations I can’t see that were likely on the paperwork the doctor provided. It detailed directions for my ten-day course of antibiotics and other tips for treating my discomfort and bringing my fever down.

“It explains why you didn’t realize that’s what you had. That’s a long time between having them.” Wilder starts the truck, then puts his hand on my headrest before looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking space, steering with the other.Why is it so sexy when men do that?I mentally slap myself for the thought. Definitely not the time. When he puts the gear in drive, he flashes me a quick, sweet smile and pulls the truck back onto the road. “Are you feeling any better?”

“They gave me the maximum dosage of ibuprofen at the office, and I think it’s started to take the edge off,” I admit. “I don’t want to try and stick my hand into my ear and rip out my insides anymore, but I’m so fuckingtired.”

“I know you are.” He reaches over to hold my hand and kisses the back of it in reassurance. “Ten minutes or so and we’ll be back at the rig. You can take your first dose of antibiotics, crawl under the covers, and fall asleep.”

I look at him dreamily, every word sounding like heaven.

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