Chapter 6
COLT
I hate doctors. I hate the smell of the office, I hate the tone of their voice. I especially hate the looks they give you when they already know the answer, and I have to sit there pretending there’s a different one.
It’s been two days since the meeting at the ranch, and between that and knowing this appointment was coming up, I haven’t been sleeping.
Add in the fact that little Miss Sunshine has been bopping all around the ranch, with my younger brother chasing after her, and I’m one pissed-off cowboy.
I’m sitting on the edge of the exam table as the doctor finishes wrapping my knee, which I will definitely unwrap the minute I get into my truck.
But Doc doesn’t rush one bit, and that’s how I know it’s bad.
“You’ve got ligament damage,” he says calmly. “It’s an old injury with repeated trauma. There's a lot of inflammation and microtears.” He clears his throat. “I’m surprised you’re walking, let alone–”
“I can ride,” I answer immediately.
He sighs. “You are riding. That’s the problem.”
I stare at the wall.
“You keep going like this,” he continues, “and you’re looking at surgery. Replacement down the line, and it’s going to happen sooner than you think.”
Surgery. That’s such a final word.
“You’re done bull riding, Colt,” he says quietly.
“It should be today. Actually, it should have been a year ago.” He sighs.
“But you’re a man who makes his own decisions.
I can only give you my expert advice. But if you’re smart, you’ll back away now, rehab it, and in thirty years, you’ll still be able to run around the yard with your grandkids. ”
How do I plan for a life I don’t know how to live?
“Grandkids? Come on, Doc, you know no woman will put up with me.” I laugh and jump off the table, screaming inside when hitting the floor makes my knee buckle. I straighten and ignore his glare. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll make a follow-up appointment.”
And then I leave before he can say anything else. And I definitely don’t make that follow-up appointment. I get in my truck, unwrapping the bandage as quickly as possible, and head towards the rodeo. The only place I know to go to, my head swimming with what ifs and what nows.
And to make my day better, the moment I pull in, I notice her. She’s sitting on the low fence near the med station, boots crossed, arms resting on her knees, watching the early practices in the arena like she’s not waiting for anyone.
But she is.
Me.
I know it the second her eyes lift and soften as if she already knows what I was told, and that pisses me off.
I get out and walk, carefully, over to where she sits. “Well,” she says lightly, pushing up to stand. “You look thrilled.”
“Should’ve seen the other guy,” I mutter and continue walking.
She falls into step beside me. “Let me guess. ‘Ice it, rest it, stop being stupid.’”
I glance at her. “Something like that.”
“Are you going to listen?”
“No.”
She hums. “Shocking.”
We walk in silence for a few steps. It’s warm today, and I didn’t notice it until I got here— with her. Either way, the breeze makes it tolerable.
“Are you going to tell me or what?” she asks.
I stop, and she does, too, turning to face me. She’s calm but strong—like no matter what I tell her, she’ll have the right words. “How’d you know I went to the doctor?”
“Levi told me.”
“That guy’s got a big fucking mouth.”
She snorts. “He’s worried, is all.” She pauses. “He knows you’ve been hiding this injury for quite some time.”
I ignore her comment because if I don’t, it means I have to admit out loud that I know my little brother has been sick with worry. I have to admit that being the older brother, I should be taking care of him and my parents, yet I’m too stubborn to do the right thing by them.
Because I want to ride.
Because I’m selfish.
The breeze whips around us again, flipping her hair around her shoulders. Her cowboy hat is on, and she looks sexy as fuck in painted-on jeans and a red t-shirt. “He didn’t say anything I didn’t know,” I say.
She studies me. “But you were hoping for something different.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m considering his advice.”
“Men who say that are usually lying,” she replies.
“Good thing I’m not most men.”
She smirks. “You’re worse.”
I turn away, but she still follows, because, of course, she does.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I snap.
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m walking.”
“Somewhere specific?”
“Right now?” She glances around. “Toward the grumpy cowboy with control issues.”
I bark a laugh. “Lucky him.”
We reach the fence overlooking the emptying arena. A few stray cattle are roaming. The mountains stretch as far as the eye can see. The day is beginning to wind down, and my body is aching. There’s a storm brewing. I can feel it in the air, and my body is definitely feeling it.
“You ever think about stopping?” she asks.
“No.”
“Slowing down?”
“No.”
“Resting?”
“No.”
She looks at me. “Living?”
That question makes my heart race. Living is what I think I've been doing, but if I can’t do that…
“You don’t get it,” I say.
“Then explain it.”
“This place is all I know,” I snap. “The rodeo is me. The dirt, the bulls, the blood, the legacy. It’s not a job, Lily. It’s who I am.”
“And if it takes everything from you?” she asks quietly.
“Then it was worth it.”
I expect her to argue, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t lecture either, and she doesn’t even give me a bullshit sarcastic comment back. She just steps closer and looks at me as if she knows exactly how I'm feeling.
“People say that right before they lose themselves,” she says softly.
“You always this intense?” I mutter.
“Only with men who are emotionally constipated.”
I snort. “Jesus.”
She smiles. “You walked into that one.”
Thankful for the interruption, I rub my knee without thinking, and she takes note.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“No.” She raises a brow, and I relent, “…a little.”
She steps closer, and instinctively, I tense. Not out of anything other than the fact that if she touched me, I think I could get used to it.
“Relax,” she says quietly. “I’m not going to break you.”
I mutter. “I don’t break easily.”
“You also don’t have to be unbreakable all the time,” she says.
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m not, everything falls apart.”
She looks up at me. “And who holds you up?”
I step back. “That’s not your problem.”
“You’re right, it’s not.”
We stand there, looking back over the vast field, shoulder to shoulder, still a little too close.
“You’re a handful,” I say.
She smiles but doesn’t look at me. “More than you know.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t have to.”
I turn towards her again, so close her shoulder brushes my chest. “You think you can handle me?” I challenge.
“For all eight seconds?”
I huff a laugh and hang my head. Her larger-than-life laugh echoes around the field and feels like it wraps me up with her. But then her voice drops, and she says, “But I think you’re scared to try.”
The air around us crackles, and for one second, just one, I think I might kiss her. I could lean in, let my lips brush hers, taste her, really see what this is all about. Do I keep fighting or do I–
A voice cuts through the air. “Colt!”
Levi.
Of fucking course the universe hates me.
“You’re gonna get hurt,” I mutter.
“That’s twice you said that, yet you’re the only one limping around here.
” She gives a wink, then she turns and walks away.
I watch her go and see Levi approach. He jogs a little to catch up to her, and they stop to chat.
Each word that I can’t hear is like fire burning me alive.
Then he gives his signature smile, tips his hat, and they part ways.
She keeps walking away from us, but he turns and watches her go.
“Levi!” I bark out.
She tosses a look over her shoulder but doesn’t turn back, and he only laughs and jogs over to me.
And for the first time since the injury, since the pain, since the doc spoke those words, I feel something in my chest I don’t recognize. It feels like hope, and that scares the shit out of me.