Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
isaac
The longer filming goes on, the more of a liability the production crew becomes. No one is following the protocols that were agreed upon and I let city girl know.
“They’re leaving gates open,” I tell her. “Filming in non-designated areas and spooking horses, riding as far as the summit without one of the wranglers supervising them.”
“I know, and I promise I’m on it.” Ivy sighs and I feel bad for upsetting her, but someone is going to get hurt. And that someone isn’t going to be the woman carrying my child. “They just get caught up, you know? In getting the shot, in getting it all done before we lose the light.”
“I get it,” I tell her. And I do because no one understands getting caught up more than me. “But we put those stipulations in place for a reason. To protect the safety of the animals and of the production crew, not to mention my wranglers.”
She nods. “These guys get sidetracked, perfecting the take, becoming obsessed with making their vision happen. And they don’t always ask if it’s within the confines of what we’ve deemed acceptable for the ranch. I’m sorry, Isaac. I’ll call a production meeting and hash it out with them.”
“No need to apologize to me. I just want to make sure El—everyone is safe.”
I’m telling myself it’s handled, when I see one of the idiot production assistants leading Lucifer out of his paddock.
He’s not supposed to be out. Not ever during filming.
The black Arabian cuts a sleek, striking figure in the early afternoon light. Head high, nostrils flared, neck arched like he’s already half a breath from a full-blown meltdown.
And some idiot has a camera on him.
I storm forward, boots biting into the dirt, heat climbing my spine in waves.
“What the hell is he doing out of the paddock?” I bark.
Camera guy glances over his shoulder. Crew guy. Young. Nervous. “Director said he wanted some dramatic B-roll.”
And then I see the director with a Bluetooth in one ear and a Red Bull in hand. He’s standing just off camera, giving orders and grinning like this is his idea of cinematic gold.
“Get that damn horse back where he belongs,” I snap. I wave Colter and Marcos over to help.
But I’m too late.
Lucifer lets out a screeching whinny, the kind that vibrates straight through your bones. His front hooves shoot off the ground in a high, violent rear. Pure show, pure threat.
Just then, I hear another horse—her horse—startle. Elena is shooting a scene where she’s riding alongside Eli for the first time. Eli’s shown a ton of improvement but he’s nervous as shit and it shows when Elena’s horse rears backward.
“No,” I breathe, turning fast.
One minute, Elena’s sitting tall in the saddle, all focused grace and make-believe mooning after Eli.
The next, she’s airborne when her mare bucks.
Hard.
She hits the dirt with a sickening thud.
I don’t think. I just sprint.
The sound cuts across the set. People scatter like mice, shouts rising, radios crackling. But I don’t hear any of it. All I see is her.
Crumpled on the ground.
Still. So fucking still.
I drop to my knees beside her. She’s trying to breathe, but it’s ragged, gasping. Probably just knocked the wind out of her, but maybe not. Maybe worse.
“Elena. I’m here. Don’t move, baby—don’t move.” My hands hover, useless, trembling. “Someone call an ambulance!” I shout behind me. “Now!”
Her eyes blink open—barely. She winces in pain.
“I’ve got you. It’s okay. Just keep breathing. Don’t try to sit up. Don’t move.”
A sharp breath hisses through her teeth. Her hand instinctively presses low to her stomach.
Mikayla is already on the phone. She’s stammering to explain so I bark out the relevant information. The address of the ranch and then, “twenty-four year old female, probably anemic and definitely hypoglycemic, thrown from a horse. Possible head, neck, and back injury.”
Mikayla repeats it with a shaking voice. Then turns to me. “She says the ambulance is fifteen minutes out.”
And that’s when I lose it.
“Tell them to fucking hurry. She’s pregnant!”
Mikayla repeats my words, substituting the explicative for please.
When she says the p-word, everything stops.
Wyatt and Ivy both step forward, faces tight with panic.
“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt mutters. “She’s—?”
“Pregnant,” I say again, gentler this time. Like speaking it softer will make it less terrifying. “Little over twelve weeks now.”
We have a doctor appointment coming up soon. They said we can’t see the sex until twenty weeks, but we’ll be able to hear the heartbeat and make out the general shape of the baby on the sonogram.
We were going to tell everyone after, once we knew for certain the baby was healthy.
Wyatt’s jaw sets. Ivy goes pale.
Then my brother turns to me, voice deadly even. “Yours?”
I look up at him. The man I’ve looked up to my entire life. My older brother. My best friend. My impossible standard. And I say the only thing that matters, knowing it may sever something between us forever.
“Mine,” I say evenly, no regret and no apology in my voice. Just honesty and feral possessiveness.
Because this baby is mine and this woman is mine.
He nods once, something unreadable passing over his face. I don’t have time to worry if he’s angry or disappointed.
Elena stirs and I soothe her the best that I can, telling her help is on the way and she’s going to be fine, that the baby is going to be fine, because they’re both strong.
Moments later, sirens ring out. The paramedics arrive and begin loading her onto a stretcher.
I step back just long enough for them to work, but I don’t move far.
“Elena,” I tell her, walking alongside as they wheel her toward the ambulance. “I’m coming with you, okay? I’m not leaving you.”
Her fingers clutch for mine, weak but sure as she nods.
Wyatt’s voice follows me as I climb in after her. “We’ll follow behind in my truck.”
And then the door shuts.
Inside, it’s a blur of tubes and blood pressure cuffs and barked medical orders. But all I can focus on is her hand in mine and the faint rise and fall of her chest.
I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “You’re okay. You’re both okay. You have to be.”
Because I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this woman. Our baby.
The family that belongs to me, the one I never saw coming.
And now—I’ve never been more terrified to lose them.