Page 30 of Wild For You

“Is that where your heart is, Erin?”

“That’s a strange question.” I laugh even though the question makes me uncomfortable.

“Maybe.” Her gaze sweeps around the kitchen. “You said Cash has been giving you trouble? What’s he been up to this time?”

“Sorry?” The sudden change in subject takes me off guard. It takes a few moments for her words to register. “He hasn’t been trouble. He’s managed to avoid me for days. Margaret thinks he has a secret bunker, but I believe there’s a hidden passageway or something inside his house, or how else could he possibly manage to sneak past me every day?” I laugh at the ridiculousness of my idea.

Her gaze pierces into me, assessing me. “What makes you think that?”

“Well,”—I hesitate—“for starters, I’ve been hearing noises, but then, when I head out—”

“He isn’t anywhere to be found.” Her lips purse. For a moment, her eyes shimmer with something, and I’m sure she’s about to divulge a secret. But the impression disappears quickly. “You know, my ex-husband, Trent’s brother, owned a construction company. That was before I moved to Florida. Anyway, he did all the refurbishing for Cash a few years ago. I could get you the blueprints.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I wasn’t being serious.”

“Still…I’ll have Josh get you a copy.” At my questioning look, she adds, “Josh is my son, so if you need anything and can’t get a hold of any of us, my son’s the one to call. Or Kellan, Cash’s brother. He doesn’t live far from here.” Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a sheet of paper and pushes it across the table toward me. I peer at the neat scribbling—rows and rows of names, their connection to Cash and the corresponding phone numbers.

I stare agog. There’s at least forty people on there, all friends and family.

“It’s a close community. We all care about Cash,” Shannon says softly. “I don’t know if Trent showed you what happened to him, but for a good few minutes we all thought he was dead.”

“What happened?” I find myself asking even though I know I shouldn’t be prying or gossiping, and particularly not when it involves a patient. But I’m curious and eager to find out more about Cash’s life, not least because I’m not sure Trent revealed the entire magnitude of the bull riding accident. Relatives can be just as traumatized as the patients. I can imagine that he has yet to come to terms with what happened to his son.

Shannon draws a sharp breath and releases it slowly before she speaks. “Cash has been obsessed with bull riding ever since he was a child. It’s a bit of a tradition around here. Something young people do for fun. The bulls are vetted and mellow. Nothing too dangerous, you understand.”

She raises her eyebrows. I nod, interested, even though I’ve heard the story before, and she continues, “Anyway, a few years back, Cash decided to take it to a whole new level, go pro. He signed up for one competition after another. Some people are addicted to skydiving or other dangerous activities. Cash gets his adrenaline rush from bucking bulls, and he’s always looking for the most temperamental bull he can get. I wish I could say this was his first accident, but it’s just one in a very long string of incidents that could have cost him his life. He’s convinced that he can and will conquer every bull.”

Frustration seeps from her voice.

“Obviously, I don’t know him, but he seems like someone who knows what he’s doing,” I say. While I understand her concern, it is his life, after all.

She grimaces. Her blue eyes are overshadowed by worry as her hand squeezes my arm. The motion is gentle, but I can feel the unspoken imploration and urgency in it. “Is that what he told you?”

I open my mouth to appease her but she doesn’t give me a chance. “He doesn’t know shit. The real reason I’m here is because I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to seeme?”

“Yes.” She nods her head gravely. “I’m not sure whether Trent told you that Cash had a head injury three years ago.”

“No one mentioned that.”

She begins to stir sugar into her coffee, absentminded, and then takes a sip, grimacing. “A bull stomped on his head, cracking his skull. He spent weeks in the hospital, the doctors warned him to stay away from bull riding. You think he would have listened.” Grimacing again, she stirs more sugar into her coffee—this time with such fervor I fear the mug might shatter and spill its contents all over the dining table. “Of course, he wouldn’t. He jumped right onto the next bull. And the one after that. And so forth.” She stops stirring and raises her gaze to meet mine. “He didn’t take the warning seriously. He doesn’t believe that another head injury could kill him. You see, Cash is Cash. He doesn’t care if his life’s at stake. Or that we’re all worried sick about him. That he only dislocated his hip and broke a few bones in the process was a blessing for us. I know what I’m saying sounds horrible, but it’s the truth.” Her eyes shimmer with guilt, seeking my sympathy, understanding, approval. “What happened to him is bad, but we’re also relieved because we still hope this might open his eyes. Or so we did until—” Inhaling a sharp, shaky breath, she spreads her hands on the table, her posture going rigid.

“Until what?” I ask, sensing what she’s about to say.

“He said he’d do it again, if he could only walk. And we believe him.”

“I don’t think he’d—”

“You don’t know him the way we do,” Shannon says. “He hasn’t given up on this passion of his. He hasn’t learned anything from his mistakes. My son told me that Cash already inquired about entering the next competition. Which, if you ask me, is insane. He is insane.” Tears form in her eyes, and her voice is shaking. “He takes one step, then another, and that’s when things begin to escalate. That’s what they always do. They escalate until there’s no going back. Until it’s too late. Why can’t he see that?” She leans back, her face drawn in pain and frustration, her hands shaking. “I don’t know how to stop him. None of us knows. This recklessness, foolishness, stupidity of his needs to stop. He isn’t even back on his feet, and he’s already thinking about playing with his life again. Why doesn’t he see the pain and worry he’s causing us?” She leans forward, her eyes narrowing on me as she squeezes my hand, the sudden gesture startling me. “I’m here because I need you to understand the magnitude of this. I need you to make sure he stays out of trouble. Don’t encourage his passion. Don’t tell him you admire it. Because the next time Cash is back on a bull, breaking a few bones won’t be the only bad thing happening.”

Her words chill me to the core—or maybe it’s the grain of truth I sense in them that make me doubt the sanity of getting Cash back on his feet.

“I had no idea.”

“This is what I wanted to ask of you. Please, make this clear to him. He hasn’t been listening to his family. Maybe a stranger, a professional who’s seen many injuries, will get the message across.”

“I can try.”

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