Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Sounds about right.” I wanted to touch him in the worst way but couldn’t, not with this many people around and not with him so close to falling apart. The last thing Colt wanted was for people to see him cry, so I used my most bolstering tone. “And at least she’s feeling up to complaining.”
“Yeah.” Colt’s voice was a hundred years’ worth of weary. “They want to transport her for further concussion evaluation. She picked my mom to ride with her in the ambulance.”
“I’ll drive you.” I didn’t leave room for argument. “I already gave Adler my keys. I’ll drive you in your truck so we can meet them at the hospital.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Eyes distant, he exhaled hard.
“Let me help, Colt.” I made it an order, not a request.
“Okay.” The fight left him, shoulders slumping farther. “Let me tell my mom before they load her up.”
He ducked back into the tent. I used the opportunity to text Adler and Hannah to tell them the plan and to not expect me back anytime soon.
When Colt returned, his eyes were even redder. “Let’s go.”
We clomped to his truck in silence, but as soon as he was settled in the passenger seat, he tipped his head back against the seat, taking long, shaky breaths.
“Hey. It’s okay.” I rubbed his upper arm through his uniform shirt. “I know there’s a lot of tests remaining, but she’s conscious. That’s a good sign.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.” His voice broke. “God, I wish Betsey were here. She’d know what to say and do. She was always so much braver.”
“I know.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. My throat had a meteor-sized lump in it. Talking hurt. And okay, I hurt too. I’d been naive and more than a little self-centered, acting like Colt had been in some sort of time bubble, waiting for my return. No, he’d had a life here the whole time. A life he’d loved. A life he’d lost and rightfully grieved. Of course he missed Betsey. Much as I hated to share Colt, she’d been his best friend too. I needed to honor that, hard as it was to find the words. “I know you miss her and Willow does as well. But she’d be proud of you both. You’re a good dad. Remember what you told me with the rattlesnake? You do the best you can and fall apart later.”
“Yeah.” Colt sat up enough to nod. “Guess this is the falling apart.”
“You’re allowed.” I patted his thigh like my touch might make any difference. “And I’m going to make sure you get to Willow. You can use the ride to feel what you need to. I’m here.”
“Why do I let her do this sport?” Collapsing forward, Colt rested his head in his hands.
“Because she loves it.” I moved to massaging his neck and shoulders. In a second, I’d need to drive, but right now, calming Colt was the bigger priority. “Remember Betsey riding through a broken wrist and other injuries?”
“Yep. Willow was already chomping at the bit to get back out there, even on a stretcher in the tent, talking about what went wrong and how she could fix it. Next time.” He gave a barky laugh. “God, I might not survive a next time.”
“You will.” I squeezed his tense shoulder. “Because she loves riding, loves you, and needs your support.”
“Yeah.” Straightening, he took a series of shallow breaths. “Thanks for being here. You were right. I’m in no shape to drive.”
“I’m here, Colt.” I took his hand in mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And there it was. The thought that had been just out of reach all day slammed into me like I was the one hitting the dirt. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter 27
Colt
Parenthood was a never-ending series of praying for miracles, and seldom had I been more grateful than when the hospital released Willow with only a mild concussion and an assortment of bumps and bruises. Maverick had stayed the entire time she was in the ER. Thank goodness because I continued to be far too shaky to drive myself. Willow predictably refused to let me carry her into the house, and I didn’t fully exhale until she limped her way to her room.
“There. How does being in your own bed feel?” I asked after she banished me long enough to put on pajamas and snuggle under her stack of covers. In a rare domestic mood, Betsey had helped Willow decorate the cowgirl-themed room. A picture of Betsey on horseback sat on the dresser, right next to one of the three of us. Time seemed to have crept up on me. The girl in the bed was far bigger and older than the little kid in the family picture. “All cozy?”