Page 34 of Eight Seconds to Fly

Frankie helped me get dressed, and we snuck back to the chutes like naughty teenagers. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face, or stop touching him. I looked at the leaderboard, and saw that Branch got bucked off in 4 seconds, which would be hurting him. I hadn’t missed Dylan though, so I headed over to the rails to watch. Frankie stayed out back, saying he needed to catch up with one of the reserve bullfighters.

I stayed out of sight so I didn’t screw with his process. He pulled the rankest bull in the comp, known for being a chaser. Honestly, his bull scared the shit out of me, not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.

Dylan looked cool as he settled onto the bull and I envied his calm. He joked with his rope man, petted his rank-ass bull on the neck, slapped down his hat hard onto his head and nodded to the gate man.

He was fucking beautiful to watch. Showy but so damn good that it didn’t matter. The women screamed and the men hollered and it was glorious.

He rode that bull for eight, just like I knew he would as soon as he burst from the gate. I held my breath as the bull did a quick direction change as Dylan was slipping his hand out. The bullfighters rushed in when they saw the same thing I did. It happened in the space of a heartbeat, but when you were standing there, it was in slow motion.

Dylan flipped forward over the bulls head, his face smashing into the bull's skull, and his body went lax. He was hung up and unconscious, and that bull was flinging his body around like it was a rag doll. The bullfighters were there in moments, one going for Dylan’s rope, the other two keeping the bull distracted as Dylan’s body hit the dirt hard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The medics ran in, stretcher in hand. “No. Get up, Dylan. Get the fuck up,” I whispered, and someone gripped my hand. I looked over to see a white-faced Branch. I wanted to rush out there. To make him speak to me.

“He’ll be okay,” Branch murmured, but I didn’t know if he was talking to me or himself. They braced his neck, and slipped him onto the stretcher. I saw Beau’s pale face amongst the people carrying him out of the arena, and he gave us a nod. He was awake.

My knees shook and Branch’s arms slipped around my waist, keeping me upright. Frankie ran up from out the back, his face pale. “Is he okay?”

Branch shrugged. “Beau said he’s awake, so that's good.” He looked around at the riders, their faces all concerned. Dylan was well loved, not just by the fans but by the other riders. We were a close knit bunch and when one of us was injured bad, we all felt it. This was a sport where you were bound to get hurt, where you can watch your friends die. We knew that. But it still shook us all when it happened.

Branch guided me from the rails. “Come on. I’m done for the night. They’ll send him to the hospital for that one. We’ll meet them there.”

I nodded and followed Branch down to collect our gear, never letting go of Frankie’s hand.

When we madeit to the hospital, Beau was standing outside a curtained room. I ran over to him and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight to his chest. “He’s okay. Bad concussion and a couple of black eyes, plus he won’t be able to ride for a few weeks, but he’s okay.”

I let out a shaky breath. Thank god. I kissed Beau’s cheek, and stepped out of his arms. I walked in on a nurse flirting with Dylan as she took his blood pressure. Still so damn handsome, despite the fact he had two massive black eyes. When his gaze landed on me, he smiled so widely my heart felt like it was going to crack.

“Tessa,” he said softly, the flirting nurse forgotten. I just looked at him and burst into tears. Fuck. “Come here, Darlin’.” I rushed to his side and buried my face in his chest as he stroked my hair and whispered that he was okay.

I never judged Frankie for not wanting to watch me ride, especially after what happened with Luiz. But I actually got it now. That ten seconds after he got caught up would be forever etched into my brain. I would see it again when I closed my eyes tonight. I would wonder what would have happened if the bullfighters hadn’t been as good as they were tonight. Actually, I didn’t have to wonder. I knew what would have happened. He’d be dead.

“I don’t think I fully comprehended how hard it would be from outside the barriers,” I confessed into his chest, as his fingers combed through my hair.

“I know,” he said softly, and the nurse left quietly.

I bit my lip, and looked up into his violet blue eyes. “Would you do something for me?”

He grabbed my chin and pulled me up to kiss me softly, his lips chasing the tears on my cheeks. “Anything.”

“Wear a helmet?” This would sound like a simple request, hell a logical request, to the rest of society. But bull riders were a superstitious lot that were married to their routine. They wore the same shirts, the same jeans, the same lucky hat. They never put their hat on the bed, or wore yellow. It was a whole thing, and asking him to change something was a big deal. Plus, a lot of riders felt like a helmet threw off their balance, especially if they learned to ride without one.

Dylan frowned, which looked uncomfortable with his banged up face. “I’ll try. The docs say I can’t get another concussion for a month, so I’m out until then. I’ll train with it on, and I’ll try.”

I grinned, because honestly that was more than I’d hoped for. I kissed him softly. “Can we bust you out of here yet? You can come stay with me and Frankie. We’ll watch you for the night.”

He grinned, pulling me down for another quick kiss. “I normally stay with Branch and Beau, but I never say no to a pretty lady who wants me to stay the night,” he growled, winking. Be still my heart, that man hits me right in the ovaries every damn time.

An hour later, we were all loaded up in Beau’s truck, Branch at the wheel and Dylan stretched out in the front seat. I was squished in the back between Frankie and Beau, which was honestly my version of heaven. I was holding a bag of meds and Dylan’s gear was stowed away in his duffle in the back of the truck.

The nurses looked so sad when I stole all the eye-candy from the waiting room, and I secretly smiled to myself. I felt a bit smug; they all wanted me and that was a heady damn feeling. How I was going to choose between them was a whole other question.

The thought of losing any of them dampened my spirits a little, but when Frankie cast me a concerned look, I pasted on a fake smile. He saw right through it of course, but recognized it for what it was, a sign that I didn’t want to talk about what was bugging me. It wouldn’t put him off for long, but hopefully long enough that we'd be back at the hotel and Dylan would be tucked up in bed with me.

A short, silent ride later, we arrived back at our hotel.They all got out of the truck and walked us to our hotel door. Frankie eyed Branch, who had his arm wrapped around my waist, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he put an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Want me to carry you across the threshold,meu bebê dodói?”

Dylan raised an eyebrow at me. “He called you his sick baby,” I laughed.

Dylan grinned at Frankie, causing the split in his lip to open back up and seep a little blood. “Only if you want to be a little less pretty, asshole.”

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