13. Reese
Reese
By the time we reach the old barn outside of Weston’s cabin, there’s not an inch of me that isn’t in pain. It’s radiating up from my side, though, to be honest, I can’t even quite pinpoint whether or not my hip is the only thing that was hurt when I fell.
Then there’s the whole mortification thing, given I literally have ridden most of my life and landed on my butt my first time on a horse since I left town.
So, there’s that.
“Hang on,” Weston says as he stops in front of the barn, then climbs off. Moving quickly, he rushes forward to open the doors. Wind tugs at him every step of the way, and I can see the struggle on his face, but finally, he gets the doors open enough for us to go through.
I hold the reins with one hand and click my tongue. “Forward,” I tell Bobbi. He waits for no other instruction before heading into the dark barn.
Weston closes the doors behind us, plunging us into darkness.
Bobbi whinnies.
“Hang tight!” Weston calls out, then slips out into the storm. The horses remain still despite the raging storm, likely thankful to just be dry.
All while my hip might as well be on fire.
Did I break it? Dislocate it?
Either one is feeling like a pretty good possibility at the moment.
Seconds turn into minutes, all with the storm raging outside.
Finally, Weston returns, and light bathes the inside of the barn from a lantern he hangs on a hook just inside the doors.
After another few seconds of struggling, he gets the doors closed again, then rushes toward me.
Reaching up, he pulls me down and into his arms.
“I can try to walk.”
“No.”
He starts to carry me outside, but I shake my head. “Horses first, Weston.”
“I need to check—”
“It’s not life-threatening. Please unsaddle the horses first so no one tries to roll and ends up injured. I can’t tend to them and myself at the moment.”
The battle playing out on his face is one for the books, but finally, he deposits me onto an old chair and gets to work removing the tack from the animals.
Watching him around horses has always fascinated me.
Weston moves like he’s an extension of them, and as far as I know, the man has never met a horse who didn’t absolutely love him.
Which is one of the things I adored most about him. After all, I’d trust a horse’s judgement when it comes to a person before I trust my own perception.
“I repaired the stalls first, but we won’t have any bedding for them.” He puts Bobbi in the far stall and Buttercup into the one directly across from him so they can see each other.
After securing both horses in the stalls, he rushes back over toward me, then lifts me back into his arms. Though he tries to move carefully, every single step sends shooting pain up my side.
I grit my teeth and let my head fall against his strong chest, trying to distract myself with the absolute rightness of being in his arms.
This is where I was always meant to be…so why did everything go so wrong?
He pushes open his door, and we step inside. Weston doesn’t turn to close the door; he just kicks it closed behind us and carries me over to the couch.
“You don’t want to set me down there. I’m really muddy.”
“I don’t care.” He sets me onto the leather couch, then steps back and strips out of his jacket. After tossing his jacket and hat aside, he turns to me.
Those gorgeous hazel eyes of his are wide and full of fear.
What could a man like this fear?
“Can I check?” he questions, gesturing toward my side.
“You’re going to need to because I definitely can’t.” I try to laugh, but the pain running up my side silences me really quickly.
“Lie down.”
“Weston, your couch—”
“Can be cleaned. Lie down, Reese. I need to know if we’re going to the hospital.”
I do as he says, lying back on the couch, and he rips a throw blanket off the back and holds it up, turning his head so I can undo my jeans.
Unfortunately, trying to get them down over my hips causes me far more pain than I thought it would, and breathing heavily through it becomes a necessity. “Okay.”
Keeping his gaze averted, Weston lays the blanket down over me, then reaches down and tugs the bottom of my jeans so they slide off. The wet fabric hits the floor with a loud slap when he tosses them to the side.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.” He kneels beside the couch as I pull the blanket down just above my hip, raising my soaked shirt slightly, too.
Weston’s gaze is unreadable as he studies my side. “Skin’s not broken, but there’s a nasty bruise. I need to feel it to see if the bone is out of place. Think you can manage that?”
“I think I can try.” Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply as his calloused fingers slide down over my hip. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I fight to maintain my composure. This might be some of the worst physical pain I’ve been through.
“It’s not out of place, but it could still be fractured. We need to get you to the hospital for an X-ray.”
“No. Just give me ice and a few minutes, please? I’d really rather avoid going out in this storm if I can.
” The idea of going back to the emergency room so soon after taking my mom makes me cringe.
Besides, if it’s fractured, it will still hurt this badly later, right? If it’s not, time will make it better.
“Reese—”
I open my eyes and look up at him. “Please?”
Once more, the battle between doing what he thinks is necessary and what I’m asking for plays out on his handsome face. And once again, he concedes. “Fine. But if you’re not feeling any better in an hour, I’ll drag you there kicking and screaming.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I’ll be doing much kicking,” I retort.
The corners of his lips lift, and he shakes his head. “I’ll get you some ice.” Less than a minute later, he’s returning with a cold pack. After handing it to me, he takes a seat on the coffee table and runs both hands over his face.
“You okay?”
“I’m not the one who could have died tonight.”
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll walk it off and be good as new.” I take a deep, ragged breath, hating the way the ache in my side makes me feel vulnerable in a place where I’ve decided I need my guard up.
But do I really?
“Why don’t you go get a shower?” I ask him. “I imagine you’re pretty uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine. I need to call your mom and let her know what happened.”
I hold out my phone. “Hand me mine, and I can do it. That way, you can get a shower, and I can assure her my leg didn’t fall off. She might not believe it if it doesn’t come from me.”
Weston lets out a deep breath, then reaches into my jeans and withdraws my phone. It’s soaked, but at least it’s still working. “Call out if you need me. I’ll have the door cracked.”
“Sounds good.”
He hands me my phone, then heads down the hall. Instead of calling my mom right away, though, I lean back and close my eyes.
That could have been bad.
I haven’t taken a fall like that in—well—ever.
“Reese?” Weston’s tone is full of concern.
“What?” I open my eyes as he rushes toward me, a dry shirt in his hand. “I’m fine, sorry.”
“Don’t do that. You need to stay up for a while.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply, hoping to ease some of his tension.
“I brought you this. I imagine your shirt isn’t super comfortable.” He holds out the t-shirt, so I take it, fighting the urge to press it to my nose and breathe deeply.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll change while you’re in the shower. Then I’ll call my mom.”
He nods and turns away, heading back down the hall.
As soon as I hear the bathroom door close, I take a deep breath and arch up enough to get the wet shirt off. After tossing it to the floor with my jeans, I slip the soft fabric of his t-shirt over me, then lie back, breathing ragged.
Call mom. Deal with pain later.
I tap my mom’s contact information.
“Everything okay? Did you find them?” she asks after answering on the first ring.
“We got them all, but the pasture was flooded, so we had to re-route and come to Weston’s place. Horses are in his barn.”
“Whew. I am so glad. Once you get back here, I’ll have some decaf ready and waiting.”
“It will be a little bit before I can come that way.”
“What’s wrong?” All the relief that had been present in her tone seconds ago is gone.
“Buttercup spooked when a tree came down, and I fell. Hit my hip on something hard, so I’m currently icing it on Weston’s couch.”
“I’m coming right now.”
“No, Mom. The storm is nasty, and I’m safe.”
“You need a hospital.”
“Not yet. I promised Weston that, if the ice doesn’t help, I’ll go. But I really think I just bruised it.” More like I hope that’s all I did.
She’s silent for a few moments. “Honey, why don’t you let me come? I can make it up the road in the truck.”
“I know, but I’ll just worry about you. I promise that I’m okay.”
“I know you’re safe. I just don’t like the idea of you hurting and me not being there.”
“I’m right up the road.” I smile even though she can’t see it.
“Fine. But you keep me posted. I’ll be calling back, and if it’s not better, you’re going to the hospital whether you want to or not.”
“Deal. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, Reese. So much.”
“Same.” I end the call, then check my text messages since there’s not much else I can do.
There’s one from Ash, so I open it up.
Ash: Any updates? How are things going?
How do I tell her that I’m lying on my ex-husband’s couch with no pants and ice on my hip?
Since I’m not quite ready to open that bucket of worms, I decide to keep it simple.
Me: Hurt my hip, but doing fine. We’re in the middle of a nasty storm right now. Talk tomorrow?
I toss my phone aside, then close my eyes and try to shift my body just a bit. Thankfully, the ice is helping, and the pain isn’t quite as excruciating as it was. As I relax into the couch, I listen to the sound of the storm outside as it rages.
Thunderstorms have always been my favorites. I can still remember sitting with my dad on the porch, in complete silence, as we listened to the rain. Even after what happened tonight, I still love them.
So I focus on the sound of the rain hitting the roof.
The thunder booming just outside.