22. Dallas
22
DALLAS
My arm is throbbing. I can feel it everywhere. Somehow I can hear it.
I wrap it tighter around Katie’s middle and press my uninjured hand to the shirt she’s sacrificed.
I rest my cheek against her bare shoulder and close my eyes again. It’s somehow easier to forget I’m on a horse if they’re squeezed shut, even though the rolling gait of the animal is a dead giveaway.
In a total dick move, I’m using Katie as a distraction, and she’s proving to be an excellent one, from both the throbbing in my arm and the fact I’m on a horse.
If I think about my arm too much, I start feeling woozy.
If I think about the horse thing, the panic starts clawing at me.
But Katie smells like hay and flowers and something sweet, like caramel maybe. Her skin is smooth and warm where I’m resting my head against it. I shouldn’t be. I should be keeping distance between us.
It seems impossible for Katie and I to be on the same page. Every time things are going well I stick my huge foot in it.
And things are going well now, so I definitely don’t want to screw it up … again.
“Are you sure?” Katie asks, her voice quiet.
It takes me a moment to bring my mind back around to what I’d said.
I asked her to teach Sadie to ride.
“Yes,” I murmur, feeling my lips brush against her skin and refusing to move my head to prevent it. The sensation is too good. The throbbing vanishes in that brief moment, overwhelmed by the feeling of desire shooting down my spine and coiling in my belly.
“I’m going to check with you again when you aren’t experiencing blood loss.”
“I’m fine.” I tuck my face into the crook of her neck. At this point she doesn’t even flinch because I’ve been all over her like a rash since she managed to get me on Scout.
At first it was just me trying to ignore the fact I was on a horse, but then she started running her fingers through my hair, like she wanted my head resting against her shoulder, my face pressed into her skin.
Now, I never want to stop touching her. I never did. Not after our first night—as much as she tried to play into the prissy city girl persona to piss me off—and not since.
“Whatever you say, cowboy.” She pats my cheek. Her thumb rubs across my jaw and I have to purposefully think about me riding a horse right now so I don’t think about Katie riding me.
Maybe the blood loss is worse than I thought.
“You’re right,” I say. “She needs to learn.” I lift my head and glance around. A wave of nausea hits me.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Just hold on for now. We’re almost back, then Vi can take you into town.”
“Violet’s not there.” I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head again. “She took Sadie to school and was getting a few things while she was in town.”
“Shit,” Katie mutters.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. I don’t want to acknowledge what’s going on with my arm under Katie’s shirt.
I was cutting a piece of alkathene water pipe with my knife, because somehow I’d forgotten the proper tool when I headed out this morning.
The blade slipped and sliced up my forearm.
I barely had the chance to glance at it, let alone inspect it, before the blood came. I slammed my hand over the wound, pressing down to slow the bleeding, but every time I tried to release the pressure so I could reach for my phone, the flow started again.
I don’t want to remove the shirt and have to actually deal with the consequences of my stupidity. I can still move all my fingers, so I’m hoping everything inside my arm is okay and it’s just a shallow wound.
“You’re absolutely not fine,” Katie says and I know she’s rolling her eyes at me.
When we reach the main farm track leading back to the barn, Katie fishes her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. She’s ridden the entire way back one handed, totally relaxed like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her free hand has ranged from resting atop my own, still keeping pressure on my injured arm, to running through my hair, and—my favourite—gently resting against my face.
Katie has a quick phone call with Olivia, letting her know I’m alright, and when we reach the driveway, she draws Scout to a stop next to the house.
“Time to get you down, cowboy.”
I freeze. Getting up here felt impossible, and I’m all for getting off the horse, but it also means releasing Katie. It means this moment we’ve shared, without pissing the other off, is over. I don’t want to let that go.
My arms tighten involuntarily around her waist. I press my forehead into her shoulder again, with a little more pressure than earlier. I allow myself one, two seconds like that, then slowly relax and lift my head.
“Thank you, Katie,” I murmur against her neck.
She shivers again, goosebumps rippling across her skin. “Hop down, get in the ute. I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Her tone is almost neutral. Almost. There’s a slight tremor there, like she’s not shivering because it’s a chilly morning and she’s only wearing a bra with her jeans.
I release my arms, letting my good hand trail across her stomach as I draw it back, then I slip my leg over the horse’s rump and slide to the ground.
I stumble as my boots hit the dirt and Katie scrambles down after me, steadying me. “I’m good,” I mumble, a burn of embarrassment heating my cheeks.
I’ve barely made it to the ute by the time Katie has stripped Scout of her tack and released her into the small paddock beside the house. Her gaze lingers on the sweat staining the horse’s back and I know she’s regretting not being able to give Scout the grooming she deserves.
“I’ll help you with Scout later,” I say as Katie climbs into the driver’s seat of my ute. She looks at me sideways as she twists the key to start the ignition. “What? I need to get over it. You’re right.”
She gives me that eye roll again. “Sure, cowboy. We’ll come back to this when you’re not bleeding everywhere.”
It’s like she’s refusing to believe that I can get over this fear. That I want to get over the fear.
I still can’t believe I told her about Abi. About the accident that changed everything.
I was there when it happened. Abi was sitting on the horse, Sadie on the saddle in front of her. Sadie’s two year old face was filled with so much glee and joy. I snapped a picture as they walked past where I was standing.
Then the horse tripped.
It stumbled, falling to its knees with Abi and Sadie tumbling off. Abi fell clear, but Sadie was still too close when the horse pushed back to its hooves. The screaming—from Sadie, from Abi, from me—startled the horse and ever since, that’s all I’ve been able to see when I go near a horse. That placid pony’s wild eyes and flared nostrils, its head tossed back in panic, and its massive hooves connecting with my daughter’s tiny body .
Sadie made a full recovery. She doesn’t even seem to remember the fall. Physically she’s perfect.
But Abi never got over that day, and neither did I.
Even Aurora sniffing me through the yard railings is enough to set my heart racing and shorten my breathing. I’ve never told anyone here why I don’t go near horses, why I don’t want Sadie riding, and they’ve never questioned me, never pushed the issue.
But the smile Sadie had on her face the very first day Katie arrived here, when she unknowingly broke my biggest rule, has stuck with me.
It reminded me of the expression on her face on the day of the accident. The joy, the glee, the happiness. As much as I never want Sadie to go near another horse again in her life, my life dictates she’ll always be around them in some capacity.
So, Katie will teach Sadie to ride, if she wants to, because there’s no one else I trust more with my daughter.
The drive to town is quiet, and I wonder if it’s because Katie thinks I’m talking nonsense every time I open my mouth. Yeah, I don’t feel spectacular, but I’m not completely away with the fairies right now.
I’m present enough to be fully aware Katie still hasn’t found a shirt.
She pulls into a park outside the hospital. It’s only a small hospital: a few nondescript low buildings, with a couple of emergency doctors and a single ward for minor stays. Anything more serious gets transported to the big hospital three hours away.
“Come on,” Katie says, unbuckling her seat belt and moving to climb out of the ute .
“Shirt,” I say like a fool.
Katie glances down at herself, shrugs and gets out of the ute anyway. She rounds the front of the vehicle and meets me at my door, helping me out like I’m an invalid.
“You’ll be cold,” I mutter as my boots hit the asphalt of the carpark.
“I’m more concerned about your arm right now,” she replies, slipping an arm around my waist. “People see more of me in a bikini.”
I close my eyes at the visual my imagination conjures at the word bikini. Unfortunately, because it’s inside my head, closing my eyes doesn’t help in the slightest.
She leads me into the emergency waiting room and sits me down on the first available seat before approaching the check-in desk.
A moment later, she’s sitting down beside me with a clipboard in hand. I go to take the pen from her to fill in the paperwork, but she bats my hand away, then starts interrogating me as she fills out my information. When she’s finished and after she returns the form to the front desk, Katie returns to my side.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to wait,” I say. She gives me a sideways look so I continue. “I’m sure you have other things to do today.”
“Ah, not really. My boss isn’t on farm today so he won’t be busting my ass about it.”
I huff a tiny laugh. “Sounds like your boss is a jerk.”
She shrugs. “He has his moments, but I think I mostly misjudged him. There’s a little more to him than I first realised.” With that, she slides her hand around my arm, tucking it in against my bicep, then rests her head on my shoulder.
I tilt my head and rest it against hers, hesitantly at first, but when she exhales a soft sigh and nestles even closer, I relax.
“Thank you, Katie,” I whisper.
Then, we wait.