Chapter 21 #2
“Only you would ignore what you’re entitled to. You’ve probably funded that surgeon’s entire nest egg in a few hours’ work.”
“And it’s worth every damn cent not to have to fight both my head and body for the use of my legs,” I retort. “Or did you want to be the one wiping my ass for the next six months?”
West blows out a long breath. “Nah. I don’t ever wanna go through that again. You whined. A lot. Lanie didn’t want to be a hindrance, picking you up.” He changes the subject as he settles me into the passenger seat, fixing my seat belt because I can’t work the stupid piece of metal.
My legs might work, but my coordination is still shit.
“I could have done that,” I lie.
“But personally, I think she’s terrified of driving you home, in case she has an accident and hurts you worse,” West continues over my interruption like I haven’t spoken. “You’ve turned an amazing woman into a basket case.” He turns accusing eyes on me.
“Good to see she’s got you wrapped around her finger.” I snort, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead to forestall an ache the sunlight brings on. “Damn.”
West passes over a pair of dark sunglasses. “Doc said you’ll need these.”
“Appreciate it.” I slipped the glasses on, the tinted lenses doing a little to knock out the sunlight intent on piercing my brain.
West starts the truck, driving in silence until we hit the city limits. “There’s a lot of mess to fix, including this whole thing with Jed.”
“I liked you better mute. Are you going to bitch at me for the whole four-hour drive back?”
“You deserve it.” West stares out the windshield.
“Probably. Tell me about the riders before me. How’d Levi do?”
In a small miracle of itself, West talks for the first hour, nonstop. I lean back on the headrest. My eyes close as West gifts me a piece of the world that I thought I’d lost forever.
I wake as the truck turns in to Coyote Falls. The familiar bumps of the drive bring me back, providing my first solid point of reference since Wrecking Ball came down.
Since I walked away from Lanie.
The homestead sits on a small rise, impressive even at a distance.
For the first time I see it as Lanie must have, coming into the property as a stranger.
I shift in my seat, drinking in the high-pitched roof, the wraparound veranda with its exposed beams and frosted glass doors depicting Coyote Falls.
My heart swells. I didn’t lose the ranch on a whim—an inspirational whim with a side serve of pride.
Wreck and my downfall will need to be fixed in the public eye to protect my other business concerns and the Invitational’s future, but that can wait a few days.
Perhaps it’s time to explain the risks and safety aspects of the sport, of having a great doctor and support crew on hand and the importance of listening to their advice the way I should have in the first place.
All of them. And it’s time to make a few apologies, too.
But first, Coyote Falls.
“Welcome home,” West says quietly, glancing sideways at me.
I rub my knee that aches on cue. “I didn’t think I’d see it again.”
“Yeah? I had no doubt. And that lawyer stuff? Don’t you ever fucking pull anything like that again. Ever. Lanie says the same, but she won’t tell you.” West shakes his head.
Something in his voice gives me pause. I want to look at him, but I can’t. Nothing works the way it should—fucking again. I press my lips together. “Tell me what I need to know.”
His silence eats at me.
My teeth creak. “Please.”
His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“You’re gonna lose that girl if you don’t look after her.
And don’t give me shit about not being able to look after yourself.
I don’t mean physically. She needs to know you’re there for her.
Right now, a fucking heartbeat counts. She’s not saying it, but I will.
She’ll walk, and everything you think you have will be gone. ”
“Noted. How’d Winnie take it?” I keep my eyes closed and my hands relaxed at my sides.
Everything within me screams with either a need for Lanie, or to punch the shit out of West. Right now, I can’t do either of those things, and it hurts.
Fuck, everything hurts. The inability to act or react. The need to hold her.
More silence.
I finally crack an eye open.
West’s face closes down.
I raise an eyebrow. Those still work. Kinda.
“See for yourself.” West pulls into the yard, stopping the truck smoothly, his fingers quick on my seat belt buckle.
The door flings open, and a body dives at me, pigtails flying. My arms wind around Sally automatically when she throws hers around me. Winnie’s and Lanie’s cries mingle above a general cheer that sounds like the entire complement of the ranch has turned out.
I wave them down and focus on the hot rock intent on snuggling into my belly. “Heya, Sally.”
“Hi, Rand!” She snuggles deeper. “Mom said you might not come home, but I knew you would. Nothing stops you.”
A laugh rips pain through my lower spine, but I force the sound out anyway. And it feels good.
Patting her back, I ease Sally away, West tugging her from the cab to settle her on the ground. I slide gingerly to the dirt, gripping the seat back for support. West helps even when I snarl quietly at him.
Sally holds out her hand. “Uncle Rand?” she asks, her voice quiet, hesitant.
“Yeah, chicken?” I bend down as best as I can without falling on my ass or doing further damage to myself.
She motions me closer. Winnie watches from her place next to Lanie on the veranda.
“I want to ride a bull,” she whispers in my ear, her hands cupped around her mouth.
I laugh again, though less pain is involved this time. “Let’s try you on a poddy calf one day, or maybe a woolly, huh?”
“Okay,” she agrees, bouncing back to Winnie.
“You think she has any idea what a woolly is?” West scratches his chin.
“Not a chance.” I reach out a hand for Lanie, shuffling forward. Her skin glows, the dark hollows beneath her eyes almost gone after a few days’ sleep since I banished her from the hospital.
She slips under the railing on the porch and is at my side in a moment. Her shoulders duck beneath my arm as she wraps herself around me.
“How do we do this?”
West and I show her what the PT demonstrated on me, though with an awkwardness factor the energetic asshole lacked, dammit. I lean a small portion of my weight on her for balance alone, working my legs in short, slow steps.
Slow, excruciating, and beyond frustrating.
But they’re steps nonetheless.