Page 56 of Ride the Sky

Eyes bright with tears, Reese asks, “How do you feel?”

I shift, mustering a smile. “Like my spinal cord’s draining out of my asshole.”

Boots scuff over the tile. My stomach turns over when I see Vic.

I raise a brow at his approach. “Come to gloat?”

“Nah.” He offers a tight smile. “You rode it to the end. I respect that.”

Words stall in my throat. I feel undeserving of his grace, his training.

Everyone crowds around, forcing smiles and making small talk. But I stay silent. I can’t think around the roaring in my head. The pain that drills through my leg. My heart.

“You hurtin’?” Wyatt’s deep drawl in my ear.

I grit my teeth and give a curt nod. I’ve been through a lot of painful things. Anesthesia wearing off too soon, losing fingernails in accidents, broken bones. But the pain radiating through my leg and hip is the only one that makes me feel like my soul is leaving my body.

“She’s tired. Everyone out,” Wyatt orders, and I feel warmth on my brow before the world goes dark again.

The next time I wake, my pain is gone and Wyatt’s in the chair beside my bed. It’s night. Moonlight cuts a white line across the flowers on my windowsill.

I roll my head across the pillow. “I thought you said everyone out.”

“Yeah, well…” A muscle works in that sharp jaw as he rises to stand. “I’m not everyone.”

A scoff pops out of my mouth. “Husband privileges?”

Husband. The word is as annoying as Wyatt.

He smiles and turns on the bedside lamp. “Something like that.”

“Think we pissed off our entire family.”

“They’ll get over it. I’m not worried about them.”

A hand slides into mine. There it is again. That warm feeling in my stomach. Like everything will be okay as long as he’s here.

“Do you need anything?” Wyatt asks. “Water? Food?”

Emotions rising in my chest, I turn my face away, breaking our connection. “You’re being too nice to me. Like one of your hurt horses.”

He pauses. “How do you want me to be?”

“Mean. How we used to be. Honest.”

“I’m always honest with you, Fallon.”

“Then how’d I look? Up there on that bull?”

He sighs, eyes pained and glassy.

“Fine. Fuck. Don’t tell me.” I grit my teeth in frustration and cover my face in the crook of my elbow.

Don’t cry.Not in front of Wyatt Montgomery. He’s waiting for that moment. Crying is for little girls. Tears are for things like mother’s leaving and horses dying.

A hand on my shoulder.

“You stayed on that bull for seven seconds.” Wyatt’s soft, soothing drawl rolls through me better than any pain pill. “Nobody could believe it. They couldn’t breathe. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. You were the wind. You rode the fucking sky.”

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