Page 53 of Ride the Sky

It can’t be.

“Wyatt. What’s wrong with my leg?”

He swallows, his rugged features cut with worry.Fear.

“Wyatt,” I say again. Louder this time.

He touches my face. Cups it in those big rough hands. Forces my gaze to his. “Fallon. Baby. Listen to me.” The seriousness of his tone makes my heart speed up.

Panic rises in me. I squeeze my eyes shut, shake my head. “No.No. I don’t want to hear it. Unless you have something good to say, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

Because I already recognize the look on his face. The awful silence. In rodeo, I know it all too well.

I’m hurt.

Bad.

“No, no, no…” I thrash my head, I feel wild, out of control. A heavy pressure rises behind my eyes. I can’t cry, though. Instead I gasp for air, for a way to go back in time, to change everything.

“Breathe.” His hands are in mine now, squeezing. “Fucking breathe.”

“I can’t,” I gasp. “I can’t.” My hands shoot out and twist in the hem of his white T-shirt. His muscles stiffen, but he grips my shoulders and pulls me into his arms.

The weight in my chest vanishes when I’m against his.

“I’ve got you, okay?” he says, his voice hoarse and broken. “I’ve got you, and I won’t let go.” Cool lips sweep over my brow. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

His heart thuds against mine as I close my eyes.

And I breathe.

At least, I think I do.

My hospital room is a flurry of chaos. I’m a flurry of drugs that make me loopy. Dark fog, busted body. That’s me, Fallon McGraw.

“You want water?”

“Stop fussing, Koty.”

A tremulous smile spreads across Dakota’s face. “I am going to fuss until the cows come home. It’s your punishment for scaring us to death.”

My sister, in a seat next to my bed, looks tired and sad, which makes me feel like I’m a harbinger of doom. Hell, maybe I am.

Davis paces back and forth in front of the door, arms crossed. A bossy bodyguard until the end.

And Wyatt—he looks exhausted, leaning back against the window. He hasn’t left the room, my side, since he arrived. Probably because he’s waiting to say I told you so.

The windows reveal a bright sunny morning, but it does nothing to lighten the mood. Neither does the doctor—Dr. Joy—who checks me over. Dakota, Davis, and Wyatt have all told me what happened, but I want to hear it from him.

He goes over a long litany of bumps and bruises. Broken ribs. Splenectomy.

“But the worst of it is your leg,” Dr. Joy says. “You landed hard, awkward, and the femur snapped. We performed a femur fracture open reduction and internal fixation.”

His big, fancy words don’t scare me. I’ve been in rough shape before and survived. I can do it again.

My eyes drift to the bandage on my leg. “Which means?”

“Which means no cast. Which means we’ll get you up and walking by tomorrow.”

---