Page 59 of Ride the Sky

She whimpers as I lift her in my arms. I hold her tighter to me and run. Her head lolls against my chest. “Ow, asshole.”

“That’s it. Keep calling me an asshole.” My boots crunch leaves, dirt, rock. “It’s just pain. Push through it. All it is is pain.”

“Easy for you to say,” she growls.

“I’d take it if I could.”

“B-Bullshit.” Her wheezing breaths don’t make me feel any better. I move faster.

“You’re gonna be okay, Fallon.”

Her head falls back in my arms as she cranes to look at me. “Liar,” she stutters, her hands going to her stomach. She lifts her hands, coughing as blood suddenly spouts through her fingers.

Fuck there’s so much blood.

Her hazel eyes widen. Fear. A whimper pops out of her mouth.

“Don’t look at that. Look at me.” Finding Davis’s truck unlocked, I tear open the backseat door. Leaning inside, I gently lay Fallon across the seat. She’s pale, her hands gripping the sheet on her stomach. I press down on her hands, trying not to notice how damn cold she is. “Stay awake for me, okay?”

It’s an effort for her to get the words out. “Yeah. Okay.”

I give her one last look then rush around to the driver’s seat.

Hands shaking, I start the truck. Gun the engine and follow the moonlit path down to the highway that leads to the hospital. A knot of emotion forms in my throat. Fuck. Fuck.

If she dies…

My heart screams,she won’t.

She can’t.

My voice is hard, my eyes flashing to the rearview mirror. “I go first. I go fucking first, Trouble, and don’t you forget it.”

Die for her. Always.

“F-Fuck you,” she rasps. “I go first, and you know it.” Her lips tip up in that wicked smile. “Nine lives, after all.”

I laugh, even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.

I crank the wheel as we hit the highway. Stomp on the gas. One hundred miles per hour.

“Hang on, you hear me? Hang the fuck on.”

Silence. Nothing. Panic rages inside of me. She should be calling me an asshole right now, baring her teeth and raging. Not still. Not quiet.

Not Fallon.

When I reach back for her hand, I find her fingertips already outstretched for mine.

A rage, lawless and cruel, rises in me.

The cowboy in me. For her, I wanted to hurt someone. For her, I would.

“Ican do it, Dakota,” Fallon growls, moving her walker an inch. She’s in pajama shorts and a hospital gown, her caramel-blonde hair wound in a messy bun.

Dakota and I hover around her, because if she falls, I’ll fucking lose it. She’s exhausted enough as it is from daily PT appointments. She’s in pain. Hasn’t been sleeping. The last three nights, she’s slept fitfully, tossing and turning. Talking in her sleep. Nightmares.

“Are you sure?” Dakota glances at Davis, who swears under his breath.

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