Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Okay, Jase. This one will break your neck if you let him. Don’t let him.” That was Gramps. “You done rode five. You got this.”
“I won’t,” he muttered.
“I can’t wait for you to meet the babies,” Cotton said. The man held his vest, talking nonsense to him. “Two little boys. Well, they ain’t little. They were both over seven pounds. Emmy was pissed.”
Jason felt the bull crouch, and felt Bax move him with one booted foot. Bax was on the gate, making sure the bull was in the right place. Beau was doing Bax’s usual job of pulling his rope.
“Come on, you bastard. Stand up!” Bax sounded worried, but Jason wasn’t. He wanted the good bulls. Bax was gonna get him an ulcer, acting like he was.
“Okay, he’s up.” Bax was away, and now it was Beau jabbering at him, reminding him to keep his eyes open, his arm up, his chest out.
Then Jason nodded.
Head up.
One.
Eyes open.
Two.
Spurring.
Three.
Fuck, he was sliding.
Four.
Into the well. Correct! Correct, dammit.
Five.
Eyes open.
Six.
Hold on, you asshole!
Seven.
Jason heard the buzzer, and he let go, knowing that he was going to have a bad get off. He could hear it in Dillon’s panicked voice, shouting at him to cover his head. He put his arms up around his helmet, which meant he landed hard on his tailbone, jarring his whole body, stealing his breath.
“Get up, Jase! Move!”
“I’m trying!” He tried to clear his head, keep it down. The jolt as the bull’s hoof clipped his helmet and rang his damn bell.
His bell.
Sammy.
Lord, that was funny.
Except it wasn’t, and he rolled, but he chose the wrong way and a horn clipped his shoulder.
“Hey! Hey, bull. Hey!” Coke was just bellowing, and someone not a bull kicked him in the ribs, so he knew one of the bullfighters was actually clinging to the bull.
“Jason! Listen to me, goddammit!” Dillon’s voice was sharp as a knife. “Crawl forward. Fast. I’ll grab you.”
Whoa. It must be bad if the clown was risking himself and Coke’s fury.
Jason got to his knees, getting a swift kick in the hip for his trouble. That spun him in a half circle to his left, and he tried to correct, scrambling as Dillon shouted more directions.
Please God. Please. I need to get out.
He felt Dillon’s hands straightening him up, dragging him to the camera cage in the center of the arena.
He belly flopped on it, catching his thighs on the metal, and he grunted when Dillon yanked him the rest of the way up. He felt the breeze as the bull went by, the cursing and whomp of a twirling rope from Adam Taggart as the pick-up man went flying past.
Fuck, he was dizzy and queasy, and he wanted to go back to the hotel and hide. Now. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get down, much less how he was going to get out.
“We got this, Jase. Don’t panic.” Dillon’s voice echoed in his ear and around him, the whisper there and gone as Dillon stood up and turned on his arena mic. “Safe!”
Don’t panic. Right. He felt wetness on his face, and he reached up, finding it sticky. That wasn’t syrup. Jesus. His ears rang for a minute, and he thought he might puke.
Then Bax and AJ were there.
“Let’s cheer Jason on!” yelled David Donaldson, the arena announcer for the crowd behind him as Bax and AJ half carried him out. Guess that’s the way to go, so I look injured and not blind.
“Don’t let Doc get a hold of me.”
“Too late!” Jonesy was so damn perky. “Let me get the bleeding stopped.”
“You ain’t Doc,” he teased, relieved. Then he sat back and let Jonesy work on him. If he sat real still and was super quiet, maybe he could stop wanting to hurl.
“You pass out at all?”
“Nope.” Not even a second. That might have been a blessing.
“Okay.” Jonesy poked and prodded until he wanted to scream. AJ had left, but he could hear Bax, his breathing tense.
“You done? I need to go, man.” He wanted a shower and a little quiet. His head was banging.
“I would like for you to get a CAT scan, Jason,” Jonesy said quietly. “Your helmet is cracked and that scalp laceration is pretty big.”
“Nope. I’m good. Plaster my happy ass up.” He wasn’t going anywhere.
“After the finals,” Bax said. “Once it’s done, Jonesy.”
Jonesy sighed. “Okay. Two shakes.” His voice went a little distant. “I don’t like it, Jason. At all.”
“I got tomorrow left. Just let it go.”
“Head injuries don’t just let go.”
No. No, he knew from head injuries. Wasn’t like he had to worry about blurry vision. He woulda laughed if it didn’t hurt so much.
“I’m good, Jonesy. I just want to go have a cold Coke and a burger.” God, that was a lie. He couldn’t eat right now for love or money.
He’d puke his guts out.
“Well, you’re all patched up. I recommend something easy on the stomach and bedrest until you have to ride again. Nothing that will jostle your poor brain in your skull.”
“Right on. I’ll see you tomorrow, y’all. Thanks.” He got up, the universe feeling like it was moving under his feet.
Bax took his arm, and that didn’t even have to look like the weirdo leading the blind. He needed a steady hand, and Jonesy knew it.
He was in the truck in no time, Bax like a stone beside him. He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t have to, because Bax’s phone started ringing.
“Hey, Momma.”
“Is he okay?”
Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m fine, Momma.”
“You got your bell rung. I saw it.” Her voice stayed even, but he could hear the worry. The hint of accusation.
“Yeah, but I didn’t get knocked out or nothing. Two more rides, Momma. Just tomorrow.” Just tomorrow and he was golden.
“You be careful. None of it matters if you get killed, son.”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I love you.” She sounded resigned now. She’d been around roughstock men her whole life. She knew he’d made up his mind to ride.
“Andy? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Miz Scott.” So formal. Bax was mad.
“I love you too, son. You’ll be in your own bed, day after tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait. Love you.” Bax lightened up some for his momma, but it was an effort. Jason could feel how stiff his arm was.
They hung up, and he just closed his eyes and floated, letting himself feel the music in his bones.
“You cain’t go to sleep, Mini,” Bax murmured. Not mean or nothin’. Just low and worried.
“Okay. ‘m awake.” Don’t be pissed at me, Bax. I’m so damn tired and so close.
“Good. I got to keep you that way for a few hours, all right? We’re almost to the hotel, but we’ll go in through self-park and go right up that back elevator.” Bax’s voice was actually kinda soothing, so if he had a mad-on, he was hiding it well.
“Sounds like one hell of a plan.”
“Good deal. You gonna get all urpy if I order some food?” Bax knew him well.
“No. I probably need to eat something. French fries, maybe?”
“Sounds good. Anything else hurt? Jonesy didn’t check anything but your head.”
“I’m just tenderized. I’d make a great chicken fried steak right now.” Shit, he was funny.
Bax snorted, and Jason felt the tension ease some. “You would. Your scrambled brains can be gravy.”
Oh, ew. “That’s borderline gross, man. I approve.”
“Thank you. I try.” Bax chuckled. “You gonna live over there?”
“Are you kidding? I got two more rides before I announce.”
“I know. I know, which is why I’m keeping my mouth shut.” Bax made a wry noise. “It ain’t easy.”
“I know.” Two more rides. That was it. He could manage. Two more. Even if he had to duct tape his head onto his shoulders to do it. Bax would just have to suck it up.
Which he knew Bax would do for him.
“I love you.” He reckoned Bax knew, but more than that, he figured Bax needed to hear it.
“Love you, Mini. I really do.” Bax finally touched his arm, and he could breathe. He knew it was all right.
“I know. We’re checking out in the morning, driving from the end of the finals? We can make it to Vegas, maybe, spend the night, go home.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. I’ll drive half dead, so we can just go home.”
Jason knew how Bax felt. Home, home, home.
“Yeah. Go home. Soak. Sleep. Eat hot dogs.” Park the truck for a few months. “We going to see Momma for Thanksgiving?”
“Her and Jack are coming to ours. Coke and the clown too. We’ll go to Coke’s next year.” Bax chuckled, the sound soft. “Beau and Sammy want us for Christmas.”
“Cool.” Look at his man, settling down. Jason was ready to settle in and do…almost anything else. His bones were tired. Hell, his everythings were tired, when he got right down to it.
“Don’t go to sleep, Mini. We’re almost there.”
“M’okay.” He was feeling so muzzy, but he sat up a little, trying to do as he’d been told.
“Uh-huh. I will take you to the ER if you don’t even out. Your momma has my number.”
“Shut up.” He would rather have Doc than the ER. Christ.
“Well, you can’t ride like this, Jase.” They pulled into the parking lot. He could hear the sound of the grate to the parking structure.
“Good thing I got a few hours.”
“Yeah.” The truck stopped. “We’re two spaces from the elevator. We got back fast.”
“Okay. You coming around?” Please?
“I am. I won’t just leave you out here.” Now Bax was laughing at him, but that was okay. That was better than mad.
“Butthead. I will puke on your shoes.” Out of pure adoration, of course.
“No way. I wore my Lucheses today.” Bax eased him out of the cab of the truck, hands hard and steady.
“Mmm…I like how those make your butt tight.”
“Now he perks up. Just took my butt. I got my earpiece in still, but I think everyone is still at the show. You just put one foot in front of the other.” Bax got him in the elevator.
He leaned and swallowed hard as it went up. “Lord, I’m tired.”
“I got you. Just lean on me, babe.”
Story of his life, right there.
Bax had him. All he had to do was let it happen. Jason swallowed hard against the nausea, glad when the world stopped moving. Bax led him to their room, and he sat with a groan.
“Let’s get you in the shower, babe. You’re covered in blood. I need to get it off your chaps.”
“Just— I need to sit a minute. Get the water going.”
“Okay.” Bax kissed the corner of his lips.
He sat there for a second, trying to remember how to breathe. In and out. In and out. One breath, then another. He head pounded like one of them monkey toys that clapped the cymbals. He might just puke for real, now that Bax’s boots were out of the way.
He leaned back, trying hard not to cry, because damn, he wanted to.
“Hey.” Bax was there again, easing off his boots, unbuckling his chaps.
“I’m sorry, Bax.” He just couldn’t make himself move.
“I know. You gotta get through it. I get it.” Bax helped him up, his hands gentle. “The shower is hot, but not too steamy. Don’t want you getting sick or getting a bleed.”
“I just… I’m so tired. Seriously. I want to go home so bad, but I can’t. I have to do this.” He let Bax lead him, knowing that he had diarrhea of the mouth. This sucked— Why couldn’t he stay healthy? What else was riding going to take from him?
“Two more rides, then we’re on the road. Doc set us up with that guy in Corpus, and we’ll see him, huh?” Bax was the reasonable one now, which just made him laugh.
“You know it. Two more, then it’s over.”
“No, Mini. No. Two more, then it starts.”
He closed his eyes and swayed. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“I love you.” Bax folded him into the gentlest hug ever.
“I know. I count on it.”
Two more rides. He had this.