10
F allon has a solid launch out of the shoot.
“You got this, you got this,” I whisper. So damn proud of her, so damn terrified.
Holding my breath, I track her on the monstrous bull. The bright blast of sunlight illuminates her helmet like a halo as Goliath Jim spins and spins in a blind rage.
That’s when I blink.
Something’s wrong with Fallon. Her spurs don’t grip the body of the bull, and her hand—
A cold sweat sweeps my skin. I leap to my feet, rip off my hat. My heart beats hard in my chest; my breath rattles. “Something’s wrong,” I say to no one.
“What?” Dakota grabs my arm.
As if in answer, Fallon loses her grip on the rope.
Time slows as Fallon goes limp at the exact same time the bull kicks its back legs. We all watch in horror as she flies into the air. Her body contorts, almost impossibly, before landing in the soft dirt of the arena floor with a thud.
The crowd is deathly still. Not a ripple of sound.
“Get up, get up.” Dakota’s wide brown eyes stay glued to the ring. “She’ll get up, right?” she asks Davis, and his silence sinks my stomach.
Until the silence is broken.
Fallon screams. Her voice an anguished, broken cry that fills the arena.
Time stops. Warps. Turns inside out.
I can’t breathe, can’t think. “ FALLON! ”
My roar’s devoured by the gasp of the crowd. They see what I see.
The bull. It turns around, bows its head, stomps and snorts.
Terror twists in my throat like a blade.
He’s going to charge her.
Fallon sees it, too. With effort, she rolls herself on her belly and begins frantically crawling toward the chute. But she’s too slow. She’s hurt.
She’ll never make it.
Fallon turns her head just enough to find me in the stands. We lock eyes. Her mouth moves. Over and over again, she says my name. Begging me to move, to come and get her, to save her.
My heart feels like it’s being torn from my chest. Her panic, her pain. I can feel them.
This isn’t happening. It’s not real. It’s not my fucking girl in that ring.
I’m suddenly moving. Bodies block my way, people scream, boots stomp, but I push through the crowd, racing down the stands.
Adrenaline floods my system. I hurl myself forward, shoving someone aside. Ford. With one hand, he drags me by the shirt. The other he uses as a bulldozer muscling people out of our way to clear a path. “Move! Move!”
I can still hear Fallon. Screaming.
But I can’t get to her.
I can’t fucking get to her.
We practically teleport out of the stands and down into the midway.
“Out of my way. Let me through,” I snarl at the security guard barricading the gates into the arena. “Let me fucking through.”
“Sir, you can’t go in there.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
I’m pushed to the side by the guard, by reporters. It’s absolute chaos. No one can get anywhere. The flashes of cameras blur my vision.
Through the bars, I catch a glimpse of Fallon. My heart plummets. She’s no longer screaming. Face down on the ground, she’s unresponsive and still. Bent over her prone body are Pappy Starr and medical staff.
The rodeo clowns try to corral the bull, but they’re locked in a dangerous dance with Goliath Jim, who’s stomping and evading capture.
Still not safe in the ring. She’s not safe. All I can do is watch.
Fuck this.
Heart beating fast in my chest, I grab the bars and start to climb. I’m going in. One goddamn way or another.
A hand wraps around my leg.
“Wyatt, no.” Ford’s clipped, panicked voice doesn’t register. Nothing registers.
Only Fallon.
“You can’t go in there,” Ford orders, gripping me hard.
I thrash like an animal caught in a trap. Each second that passes that I’m not by her side kills me. I’m losing it.
“Fuck you,” I snap, trying to kick him off.
Before I can have another go, I’m forcibly torn from the gates. Big bodies in my periphery grab my arms. Charlie. Davis.
I twist, freeing myself from Charlie’s grip before reaching for the bars again. “Let me go,” I shout, on the edge of something I can’t come back from. Panic. Desperation. “I have to get to her! I have to—”
“Wyatt—no—you can’t.” Davis’s voice. Ragged. Broken.
I shake them off, whirling in place. “I can’t leave her. I can’t fucking leave her—”
“Hit him,” I hear Ford say, and then—
Blackout.
I have dirty boots.
It’s the first thought that comes to mind as awareness oozes through my head. Pain throbs behind my eyes, a dull nausea clouding my senses. Where the fuck am I?
Blinking, I groan and touch a hand to my temple.
I see the sky. The exasperated faces of my brothers as they lean over me.
“He’s awake,” Charlie announces.
“What the hell, man?” I ask as I’m grabbed roughly under the arms and sat up. I’m in the bed of Charlie’s truck.
“Hell, I’m sorry, kid,” Ford says, eyes wild. “You wouldn’t stop.”
“You were gonna go into the snake pit,” Charlie says. “Couldn’t let you do that.”
I rub my jaw. “So you cold cocked me?”
Charlie loops his fingers through his belt loops and shakes his head. “You don’t listen.”
Davis sighs. By his weary and resigned expression, I know he’s the one who swung the fist. It feels like I took a wrecking ball to the face. “Look at me,” he orders. “Let me see your pupils.”
As he tilts my chin, reality slams into me like a bucking bull. Fallon .
Panic sets in, and I jerk. “Fallon. Where is she?”
I try to climb out of the truck, but Charlie presses me back with a firm hand.
The grim look Ford and Davis share makes my stomach roil.
“Is she alive?” The question has me doubled over and gasping. When no one answers, I clench my fist. Squeeze my eyes shut. “Goddamn it. Tell me.”
If she’s dead, put me out of my fucking misery.
Charlie clasps my shoulder. “Take a breath, Wy.”
“Shut up and listen to me.” Davis steps forward. His brown eyes bore into mine. Pleading. “It’s bad, Wyatt. Okay? It’s real fucking bad.” The tremble in Davis’s voice sends me over the edge. My older brother’s a rock. When he isn’t, it means—
“Fuck.” I swallow, try to breathe normally. But I can’t. Not until this weight is off my chest. Not until I see her. “Fuck. Fuck.”
Davis continues. “She’s in emergency surgery. She’s bleeding inside. And her leg…”
My throat constricts. “What about her leg?” I echo, my voice is rough like grit and dust.
“They don’t know yet,” Davis says. “They’re doing their best.”
I sway where I sit, and vomit crawls up my throat. “Doing their best? What the fuck does that mean?”
Davis grips the back of his neck. “It means we don’t know a goddamn thing yet.”
My vision goes blurry. Fear curls in my stomach. Fear that I could lose her. This woman who means everything to me. Regret rolls through me like a tidal wave. She’s hurt. Bad. And I never got to tell her—
“You ready, kid?” Ford’s soft voice sideswipes my thoughts.
Tears gather in my eyes. I nod. With a sinking heart, I slide out of the bed of the truck, but I don’t get far.
I fall to my knees and throw up all over Charlie’s boots.