Page 5 of Never Left You

Hook made a huff in his stall, pulling my attention back to him.

“I’ll strip him down. You rest, and then we’ll take you to the ER.”

“The emergency room! Come on Callahan, I don’t need the ER. A clinic is fine,” she protested, a snap to her voice that would have almost worked to get her way.

Shaking my head, I heaved a sigh. She only called me Callahan when she was pissed. I raised my eyebrows and motioned towards her leg. “I’m taking you to the ER. We need to add in recovery time.”

“I’ll be training if I can’t ride in the circuit,” she bit back.

“I would expect nothing less from you, but for now, you’re staying off that leg.” I opened the pen. “Give me fifteen minutes and then we’ll head on out.”

Quinn scoffed. “How far away is the closest hospital anyway?”

My eyebrows met in the middle as I tried to recall exactly how far away the hospital was. I unhooked the gelding’s reins and bridle. “An hour or so. Boise, I think.”

“An hour…” she repeated softly. “What about Hook?”

“He’ll be fine here.”

“We can’t leave him.”

“Just for a few hours Quinn. You need to get looked at, and I’m not leaving him in the trailer while we’re at the ER.” I gave her a stern stare, glaring at her until she finally let out a long sigh and grumbled.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” I turned back to the gelding. “Now keep quiet, and don’t move that leg.”

“Well,” I looked at the x-ray on the screen. “At least it’s not broken.”

With my hands on my hips, I turned to look at Quinn. Her leg was straight out on the bed, her back slouched as she lifted her gaze up to me. Fire brewed behind her green eyes, pure hatred for me at this point. The news that she tore a muscle and ligament wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. She could ride, but she needed physical therapy—and a few weeks of rest before she could get back in the circuit.

“Eight to ten weeks,” she lamented. “I’m down for eight to ten weeks.” She emphasized the ‘to ten’bit. “That means I’m out until at least the beginning of May. Do you get how long it’s going to take me to get back on top fifteen, back to the NFR?”

“If you don’t make it this year—”

“I’ll quit,” she stated point blank, her gaze moving from me to her foot. Disappointment carved across her face as she stared at her wiggling toes.

“No. I won’t allow that.”

Quinn locked eyes with me. “Fine. I won’t quit. I’ll just sulk.”

“You can train, and we can stay right here in Boise while you do your PT.”

“Don’t you have other clients?”

Nope…

Her eyebrows twitched. “Don’t tell me you banked your entire year on me.”

“You proved to me last year you were worth it. So, show me I made the right decision.” I knew I had. This girl was one to watch and I was proud to call her my only client. It wasn’t that I had everythingbankedon her, it was that I knew she was it. I knew she was going to go far. And I wanted to be there to watch her. “One fall isn’t going to take you completely out of the running for the NFR. We’ll train and go to PT and lay low. I’ll work with Hook too, make it so he can go tighter, but…we may want to get Charming trained up with you too before spring just in case.” I sat on the edge of the table, making eye contact with Quinn.

“Charming is calmer for sure.” She inhaled. “And you think we can just stay in Idaho?”

“Think of it as a vacation.” I raised my arms, giving her the cocky grin I knew could pull most people from their anger. “We don’t have to, but hey”—I held up the many referral cards the doctors had already handed me—“we have a plan here already.”

Quinn folded her arms, annoyance seeping from her pores at my optimism. Her bright green eyes pierced into me, almost as if she could directly send me her thoughts. Her brown hair was up in a loose braid, small whisps falling around her pale skin. She closed her eyes and her bottom lip shook. Quinn wasn’t one to give up. She wasn’t one to show fear. Just being here showed a different kind of strength from her—vulnerable, raw strength.

“Don’t go crying on me.”

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