Page 21 of Drunk Dialing

He would have panicked, but he just didn’t have time. He had a two-thousand-pound bull underneath his happy ass, and he needed to stick on it until he could get his hand untwisted from the rope. He had to stay up, and he had to stay on it, because if he didn’t, he was fucked toast.

Last time he checked, he was not a loaf of bread, and he was not doing this.

The bullfighters were doing their jobs, yelling and waving their arms, distracting the bull, trying to get him enough time to figure this shit out. Jim Boer was there too, the safety man trying to get the bull roped so they could get him out.

His shoulder was starting to scream, and this was the longest sixteen seconds on earth, in his fucking life. But his hand finally popped out, letting him breathe for a second, literally one second, before he went flying off the back as the bull snapped his back legs up.

The hooves connected with his vest, the sound a crack in his ear and a boom in his bones, and he felt something in his shoulder pop. It stunned him, left him numb, which was almost okay until he hit the arena floor, thank you.

His head bounced off the dirt, and his breath whooshed out of him, leaving him fighting for air, his lungs simply refusing to work.

Jake swore he could hear Treat screaming at him, telling him to get his goddamn fool ass up, but that wasn’t happening. Jake couldn’t figure out which way up was.

The vibrations underneath him helped him with that, and he rolled over, pulling his legs under him so he could start crawling toward the fence.

He saw the shadow of the bull coming back around for him. He saw the panic in the eyes of the bullfighter reaching down for him. He saw the crowd rushing by as the bull scooped him up and tossed him.

Then Jake just saw black.

Chapter Seven

Treat was at the rail, fixing to go flying over, when someone caught him. “Cowboy, you can’t! You have to stay out of the way.”

“Jake!” He shouted like he’d been shouting for God knew how long. Probably less than a minute, really, but it felt like a fucking eternity.

Jake was just lying there, flat on his back, the bullfighter covering him. The safety man had the bull roped and was dragging him away. Treat could see sports medicine running in. It didn’t make him feel any better.

He wanted to see Jake get up. He wanted Jake to wake up and stand up and wave like he was supposed to.

That was how this was supposed to work.

A group of cowboys surrounded Jake while he lay there on the ground. The bullfighters started to pray as soon as the medics got out there.

Treat couldn’t see anything, so he focused on getting his stuff together. He might not be able to get out there on the dirt, but he could get down close to the ground so that he knew which hospital they were taking Jake to, and know that he could get to his truck in short order.

“He’s going to be all right.”

Treat wasn’t sure which cowboy talked to him. He didn’t care. “I know he will be. He doesn’t have a choice.”

That was his man. Goddammit, Treat had just gotten him back in his life. Fuck, they were going to have a come to Jesus meeting if anyone thought that they were going to take Jake away from him now.

Jake wasn’t getting up. The EMTs were coming with the backboard and the neck brace.

Jake wasn’t waking up.

“What hospital?” He hollered. “Doc, it’s me. Treat Halloran. What hospital are y’all going to?”

“University,” Doc hollered back.

“I’m right behind you.” Treat headed for his truck at a flat, dead run, praying every step.

Please God. I’m gonna take him home. I’m gonna make him mine. I’m going to give him everything he ever asked for. I’m going to make him happy. Let him wake up. Please let him wake up. I’ll take him however I can get him. I need it to be him. They won’t even let me…they won’t let me do anything if he’s not him. I need to be able to tell them he wants to go home with me. I’m in big trouble. I promise… I promise to be good to him and give him anything he wants. I bought him fucking miniature yaks. That’s love. That’s real love. Just let him wake up. Let him wake up and be him. In Jesus name, Amen.

He drove like the hounds of hell were on his heels, hoping to God he didn’t get pulled over. He raced to the hospital, and he heard the ambulance blaring as he pulled in and parked. He would bet that was Jake.

He parked and ran in, going straight to the little intake person, who had on this amazing eye makeup that would have fascinated him if he wasn’t so worried.

“I’m here because they just brought my cowboy in the ambulance.” His heart was thrumming in his chest, and he didn’t think he’d ever catch his breath again.

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