Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“You ready to ride this bitch, Jason?” AJ sounded stressed as all get out. “He’s gonna take one big leap out then spin into your hand. He’s a mean bastard, and he throws his head up a lot, so keep your back straight.”
Bax was holding his vest as the bull shifted and moved beneath him. The tension in Bax’s hand vibrated through him. He needed this ride. He needed every ride he could get, but this one had the possibility to make a ninety pointer.
An event win.
He took a deep breath. Then another one. The clock was ticking and he needed to get out of the chute.
“Is he still crouching?”
“He’s waiting to jump.”
“Fine.”
He didn’t have a choice, so he nodded, and the gate opened with a clang. Aje had been right—the bastard damn near went vertical out of the gate, and he bore down, telling himself not to let his body slam forward into the bull’s head.
That would suck.
His wrist ached, but Jason gritted his teeth, ignoring it. He sat up and counted seconds in his head. Three. Four. Kick. Spur.
“Riding you,” he bit out, forcing himself to keep his eyes wide open. “Fucking riding you.”
His free arm stayed up, his chest stayed out, his hips moving—and the buzzer sounded, just about the time his feet blew out the back.
“To your right, Jason!” Dillon screamed in his ear, and he threw himself that way, that big horn grazing his cheek. Jesus.
Jason felt the bull rope wrap around his cast and pull, hard. Suddenly he was flying, dragged in circles, and the best he could do was to keep his feet on the ground, his head in the crook of his arm. “Coke! Nate!”
“Shit!” That came from Coke, and he could hear Nate screaming, “Hey! Hey!” to get the bull’s attention. Coke bounced off him, and there was Fred, the Aussie digging in next to him to shield him from the bull’s horn.
Okay. Okay, focus on keeping your feet under you. As soon as you pop free, run the other way. Listen to Dillon. Keep your goddamn feet under you.
The jolt when his hand came free shook him to his toes, and he went down, his feet moving even as he hit the dirt.
“Down, Jason!” That was Dill again, and he did the stop, drop and roll, arms over his head.
He felt the wind, then the impact as the bull’s hooves hit the dirt next to his head. So he skittered the other way.
“Run! Run, Jase! Straight ahead!”
He was trying, but he wasn’t sure which direction that actually was. So he just dug in with his bootheels and pushed, sprinting toward where he hoped Dillon wanted him to go.
The impact of the bull’s hooves on his lower back sent him flying into the fence, and his entire body rattled.
Then one of the bullfighters was lifting him, hands on his vest, heaving him up the rails until someone else caught him under the arms and yanked him over.
“Wave at the crowd, buddy.” That was Cotton.
He waved, his entire lower body tingling. “She still preggers?”
“Still.” Cotton hauled him up and over, then Aje was there too.
“Ninety-five, man. Good ride.”
“Get me out of here before Doc…”
“Before I what? You okay, Jason?” Oh fuck. Fuck, he couldn’t fool Doc too many more times.
He held out his casted wrist. “How’s it looking?”
The guys kept him on his feet.
“I’ll need you back in sports medicine.” There was a long pause. “Someone get Jason his dark glasses. His eyes are having a hard time adjusting to the light. I can tell.”
Oh, Jesus. He sagged. Does Doc know? Is he gonna tell?
“See you in a few, son,” Doc said in a tone that brooked no argument.
“I need Bax.”
He couldn’t do this alone. He needed Bax…and help.
“You got this, Jase. If Doc was going to tell, he would have. Breathe.” Dillon’s voice was loud in his ear.
“I’m right here, Mini.” Bax’s hands landed on him, and he could breathe.
He nodded at Bax and Dillon and everyone else, then limped around wherever the heck they were until Bax led him to the hall that led back to sports medicine.
“Breathe, Mini. Here are your glasses.”
“Thanks. He knows, Bax.”
“He’s Doc. He probably has known the whole time. He cain’t tell. He’s a doctor.”
Oh. Oh, right.
“Let him check you out. Maybe try to give you a talking to. Then we move on.”
Jason took a deep breath. He could do that.
“Does it hurt?” Bax muttered.
“Tingles. I’m okay. I did good, huh?” Ninety-five was fucking better than good. That meant one more event down. One more check to do improvements on their house.
“Yep. One day closer to the finals, babe.”
Doc swept in seconds after they made it to sports medicine. “Back here, Jason.”
Bax took him to a curtained-off area, he thought, from the sound of the metal rings on a bar.
“Okay, we’re the only ones back here. How bad are your eyes, Jason?”
“I—” What was he supposed to say? “The bull hit my back, Doc.”
“I know. Take off your shirt and I’ll look at that and your wrist. I’m not going to give you a hard time, but I need to know.”
“You’ve seen the scans, Doc,” Bax said.
“Mmm.” Doc prodded at his back. “So it’s all gone. Do you understand how fucking dangerous this is?”
“I got this. Just through the finals. Please. Just through the finals.”
Doc came around to turn his wrist this way and that. “I’ll tell you what I told Sam Bell. I advise against it. However, I’ll let it go until the end of this season. If it goes past the finals, I’ll have to talk to Ace. Believe it or not, I do understand.”
“I bought a house. Me and Andy Baxter. We bought a house. I need to win the finals.” He needed that win.
“I hear you. I don’t like it. You’ve got eight events left. That’s twenty-four rides before the finals. That’s harsh.” Doc touched his back again, and he hissed. “Jonesy, get the ice.”
“Keep it together, Jase.” Dillon’s voice was soft. “You got this.”
Right. Confident. Sure. He had this. He wasn’t worried. He knew how to ride. “Gonna have a bruise, huh, Doc?”
“And how.”
Jonesy whistled. “You start peeing blood, you come back in.”
“Will do.” Like he’d know. He wasn’t going to stress. The touch of the ice was like heaven and hell all at once, and he panted a little. “Did I break the cast?”
“No. You got lucky, Jason.” Now Doc sounded back to normal, all bark-y and stuff. “Don’t get hung up.”
“Right. I’m on it.” His heart raced, and he wanted to puke. Fuck him, he was tired, his adrenaline running out and just bringing pain with it.
“Come on, Mini. Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ll make him rest, Doc.” Bax sounded as blown out as he felt.
“I want that ice on him. Jonesy, give him a shot. I want him sleeping. When do you head out, Andy? Are you flying or driving?”
“We’re just going to the hotel tonight, then driving out tomorrow.” Bax was still touching his good arm. “Is it that bad?”
“Nah. Nah, it’s just tingling,” he lied. “I got this.”
“If I give you some pills for later, will you take them?” Jonesy asked.
“Sure, man. I just want to go get supper and chill.” Sundays were early. He didn’t have to stress it.
“Good deal. I’ll take your word.”
“Be safe, son,” Doc said, then he was moving on.
“See?” Dillon murmured in his ear. “All good.”
“Turning you off now,” he told Dillon.
“Oh, every day, Jase.”
Fucker.
Jason wanted to reach for Bax, hold his hand, but he couldn’t. He knew that. “I need to go now.”
“I’m going to get the truck. Someone will come get you and help you out.”
Wait. Was Bax mad? Had he done something wrong?
“Sure.” He’d just sit here and be blind.
Bax was gone before he could even think what or how to ask, and Jonesy was still humming some tuneless thing, but Doc was working on one of the Brazilians, it sounded like.
He stayed put, and it wasn’t long before Coke was there, freshly showered. “I told Andy I’d help you get to the truck. How bad is it?”
“Not bad.” Nothing he wouldn’t leave in sports medicine.
“Good deal. Come on.” Coke was always willing to take him at his word, but he almost made a lie of it when he slid off the exam table. Shit.
“Ah.” Coke grabbed the back of his jeans, hauling him upright. “Gotcha. Let’s try a few steps.”
“Who’s watching?” He didn’t want this to get worse.
“Me. I got your ice pack. Walk.”
He managed a few steps. Each one felt like he was stepping on knives. He knew it wasn’t permanent, knew it was swelling back there, but damn, it was scary. Just as scary now as it had been the first time it had happened.
“Just out to loading now,” Coke said. “Then you’re golden, huh?”
“That’s me. End of the fucking rainbow.” He did it by grinding his teeth until he thought his jaw would pop.
“You’re a little green like a leprechaun.” And there was Dillon. “You ride with the boys, babe. I’ll follow y’all to the hotel.”
“Sure thing.” Coke got him into Bax’s truck where he could stretch out in the back, then the doors all closed. “Good to go, Andy.”
“You’re gonna let the clown drive your vehicle?” Bax asked.
“He has his own set of keys.”
Jason chuckled, praying that Bax didn’t hit a lot of bumps.
Bax was damn quiet, but he did drive careful, easing them out into traffic, which was always a bear after events.
“You going to be able to eat supper, Jase?” Coke asked, and he nodded, because otherwise Gramps wouldn’t leave him alone. “I want a baked potato or something.”
“That sounds good. Maybe I’ll just have some fries.” Something he could eat with his uninjured hand.
“Finger food,” Bax murmured, and he had to strain to hear it. What the hell?
Goddamn it, why did Gramps have to be here? If they were gonna snarl, they damn sure needed to have it over and done with. He didn’t want them to be all quiet and not talking to each other.
They got to the hotel, and Coke seemed to know all of a sudden, gently touching his shoulder. “We’ll be up for dinner. I’ll wait down here for Dillon. AJ wanted to come too.”
“Half an hour,” Bax snapped before hustling him to the elevator.
He kept his lips tight all the way up, down the hall, and until the door lock clicked. “What the fuck is wrong?”
Bax exploded. “Goddamn it, Mini. You could have been cut in half! That fucking bull had your goddamn number! I lost ten years off my life.”
“I kept my feet under me!” He could holler too. “I did everything right!”
“Your body might know what to do, but you’re already hurt. Jesus, Jase! What are you gonna do if you get kicked in the head again? I cain’t take this.”
What the fuck was wrong with Bax? He knew that this was what they did. Cowboys rode and they got hurt when they fell off.
“Jason. We got our own place now. We can just go home. Just quit.” Bax moved close but didn’t touch.
“The finals are coming, Bax. I could win the year.” It could happen.
“That’s still eight events away! Even if you took a few off…”
He reached out, whacking Bax with his cast by accident. “Andy Baxter, I am a cowboy. I ain’t gonna lie down and die. I’ll heal up.”
“What if you catch your head again? What if it knocks you senseless? What if—”
Jason growled. “Dammit. What if, what if, what if? I cain’t live like that! I got to do this!”
“Why? What the fuck is so important about the fucking finals?”
“Because I said I’d do it. Because that was what I swore!” And he didn’t know what happened after that. He didn’t know what worth he’d have. If he could do this—this one big thing—then maybe the fact that there was fifty plus years of not knowing and being in the fucking dark looming would be okay.
“Jesus, Mini.” Bax sat on the bed, the squeak telling Jason he’d just flopped down. “I’m scairt. That’s it, right there. I’m afraid you’re gonna get killed.”
“You know as well as I do that’s a thing.” He made his way over, easing himself down. “I got to try. It’s the only thing I know how to do, and if I win…”
“What’s the chance of that? Cotton’s on your ass, Eduardo, Kynan—you got to be damn near perfect.”
“Then I’ll be damn near perfect.” Ninety-five. He’d ridden today for an eighty-six and a ninety-five. That was as close to perfect as he could ask for.
“But—”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “I got one chance, and we got the best team ever. Coke, Dill, Nattie, Emmy. Hell, Cotton would turn out for me, even though I’d never ask him to. And I need you on my side.”
“I am.” Bax took his good hand in one of his. “Always. Just hate seeing you get kicked around.”
“I wasn’t having fun, that’s for fucking sure. My back is killing me.”
“Let me get you another ice pack. You want to clean up? I’ll order some supper when Coke and them get up if they come before you get out of the shower. I can wrap up your cast.” Bax was babbling now.
“Kiss me.” Tell me you’ve got my back, Bax.
Bax pulled him around a tiny bit and kissed him long and slow, like he meant every brush of lips and tongue against his. “I love you, Jason Scott. Don’t you forget that.”
“I won’t. I never do. I’m riding for us. For forever, you know.”
“I know.” Bax leaned against him for a little bit, then sighed. “Okay, let’s get all that dirt and bull goo off you.”
“Yeah. Gross.” He let Bax ease him up to sitting. “Ninety-five points, man.”
“It was a hell of a ride, Mini.” Bax sounded much better. He probably needed to eat too. “That bull is gonna hurt someone.”
“I bet they retire him to stud after this season.” Jason had no idea who owned that one, but most of their contractors knew when it was time to get a bull out of rotation. Bodacious had set a precedent for head bashers back in the day. “I’d have been okay if it wasn’t for my damn cast.”
“Uh-huh. Get in the shower, Mini. You stink.”
He chuckled, letting Bax tape his cast up in plastic, then getting into the shower to scrub up. The world had righted itself again, and Coke and them would be up for supper. Like always. Some things were eternal.
He fell off. He got the fuck back on.