Chapter Ten
Tanner woke to blackness and a fuzzy sensation in his head. His first thought was that he’d hit the bourbon with the boys after the Invitational. That was the only explanation he could come up with for the way his head felt—as though it wasn’t quite attached to his body.
He worked his tongue around his mouth, which was dry as dust. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Something important.
He was supposed to do something last night, after the event. What was it?
“Hey. Are you thirsty? They left some ice chips for you.”
The sound of Evie’s voice made him turn his head, which was when he realized there was something covering his eyes. Something bulky and padded. He lifted a hand to push it away.
“No, don’t. You need those,” Evie said, her hand catching his and pulling it away from his face.
“Where am I?” he asked, because it was beginning to hit him that something big had happened.
“St Francis Hospital in Tulsa. It’s Monday afternoon. You got kicked in the head last night at the Invitational,” Evie explained quietly.
Her hand squeezed his reassuringly.
“How bad?” he asked, the bull rider part of him already starting to assess how many weeks he’d lose before he could rejoin the tour. He was ahead enough on points that if he came back early enough, there was a chance he’d still qualify for the finals.
“You have a concussion, and you have a fractured eye socket. They call it fracture of the orbit, but it’s the same thing. It’s hairline, so no surgery for that.”
She paused, and there was something in her tone—or maybe it was her phrasing—that clued him in that there was more.
“And?”
“And you have a detached retina. An ophthalmologist flew in this morning from Houston to operate on you. That’s why your throat is maybe a little sore, from the anesthetic.”
It was hard to think straight, questions slipping from his grasp before he could focus on them.
“Dr. Freeman said he’d come by again at about three. That’s only an hour away now,” Evie said. “You want those ice chips?”
“Thanks.”
She released his hand, and he heard the clatter of ice being poured into something. Then she touched his hand again, pressing what felt like a paper cup into his palm.
He lifted the cup and took a couple of chips into his mouth.
“They said you might feel a little nauseous. How are you feeling?” Evie asked.
The ice was cold and exactly what he needed to ease his dry mouth.
“Fine. Did they say how long recovery time is for this sort of thing?”
There was a short pause. “Um, I think you have to wear the bandages for a few days. No driving, reading, stuff like that for a few weeks. But the doctors can tell you all this.”
He’d have to call Johnny B at the ranch and get him to fly in to Tulsa to collect him and his truck. Then it sounded like all he had to do was rest up and he could rejoin the tour.
As injuries went, not a bad one. He’d definitely had worse, like the time he’d broken his collarbone. Or the time his rib had pierced his lung. Thank God he had good medical insurance. A lot of the riders didn’t, but he’d learned the hard way that the premiums were worth it.
A new idea floated up and he managed to grasp it.
“Weren’t you catching the bus to Santa Fe today?”
“I canceled my ticket.”
Because of him?
“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. “You don’t have to change your travel plans because of me.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” Evie said, her tone as dry as the desert.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not going to just walk away and leave you in hospital. What kind of jerk would I have to be to do that?”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said stiffly.
“Glad we agree on that. They said you could have a light meal if you were hungry.”
There was a firmness to her tone that told him she wasn’t going to budge. He let it go—for now.
“I could eat something,” he admitted.
“Great. I’ll let the nurses know.”
She returned a few minutes later with a cheery-voiced nurse with a thick Southern accent. She set him up with a tray of food before asking Evie if she minded helping him eat.
“Of course not,” Evie said.
“I can feed myself,” he said.
“Really? You want to tackle soup right now?” Evie asked.
He had a vision of himself with soup slopped all over himself.
“What else is there?”
“Some yogurt and a couple of crackers.”
He sighed. The bed sagged a little and he guessed Evie had just sat beside him. The last time he’d been on a bed with her, she’d been limp and hazy-eyed because he’d made her come.
“Okay, I’m spooning up some soup now,” she said.
“What flavor is it?”
“Chicken noodle. At least, that’s what it smells like.”
Something warm and metallic nudged his lower lip and he opened his mouth to accept the spoon. It was definitely chicken soup, lukewarm and salty. He was hungry enough that he ate everything Evie offered him, then started on the yogurt. It took him a couple of goes to work out how to make sure he was getting the spoon in the container, but he was determined not to sit there and be fed like a baby.
Especially by Evie.
“You’re eating. Great sign,” a voice said from somewhere off to his left.
“This is the ophthalmologist,” Evie said quietly. “Dr. Collins.”
“You can call me Gary. Good to see you up and eating, Tanner. How is your pain?”
“Pretty good.” The truth was, he didn’t have any pain, as such, although there was a full feeling around his injured eye that he suspected was going to hurt like hell once his meds wore off.
“I’ve prescribed some painkillers for you for the first few days, then ordinary over the counter painkillers should do the trick. The surgery I did this morning was pretty straightforward. We repaired the tear in your retina using a procedure called a vitrectomy, with some laser thrown in for good luck. What this basically means is we drew the fluid out from behind your eye and replaced it with a saline solution, and used the laser to reattach your retina. It was a substantial detachment, so it’s going to take a while for your eye to settle down, both from the surgery and the trauma of your injury.”
Jesus. They took the fluid out of his eye?
“So, do you have to put the fluid back in again?” he asked.
“Believe it or not, your body makes more. So over a few weeks, it will absorb the saline, and generate more vitreous.”
“Will my sight be okay?” he asked.
“We won’t know for a while, but we have a very high success rate with this surgery. If you don’t get your full eyesight back, it’s likely to still be very good. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves on that one.”
Anxiety tightened Tanner’s chest. The prospect of having messed-up eyesight was not a happy one. It might mean he’d have trouble driving, running things around the ranch. The only comfort was that the one thing a bull rider stared at when he was riding was the back of the bull’s neck, and that was only an arm’s length away.
“Any guess when I might be able to ride again?” he asked.
Evie stirred beside him, her clothes rustling.
“Travis told me that’d be one of the first questions you asked. Said you bull riders are tougher than dirt.”
“I’m happy to do my rehab, but getting back on the tour ASAP would be my goal,” Tanner confirmed.
“There’s no easy way of saying this, Tanner. With injuries like yours, there’s a high chance of recurrence, especially if the patient is in an at-risk field where it’s likely he’s going to be taking blows to the head and experiencing high-pressure situations, strong g-forces and the like. If you ride again, there’s a high chance you’ll lose your sight in this eye altogether.”
The doctor’s words hit Tanner like physical blows, thudding into his chest. He could feel his heart racing as everything in him rose up to deny what he was hearing.
There had to be another way. Maybe another doctor. A second opinion. Because he wasn’t ready to give up riding. He wanted another world title; he wanted his name in the hall of fame.
He needed to ride to know he was alive.
He felt the cool touch of Evie’s hand on his arm, then the slide of her palm against his as she took his hand. He closed his hand around hers, holding it tight, needing her touch to anchor him as he struggled to process what he’d just been told.
“I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to hear, and I’m sorry about that. The good news is that I’m confident we’re going to get a good result on your eye. Now, I need to fly back to Houston tonight, but I’ll be available to talk to you or to your GP with any follow-up questions. The doctors here will talk you through your recovery when you’re feeling more up to it tomorrow, and I’ll get in contact with your local doctor to discuss follow-up care.”
Tanner managed to pull it together enough to thank the doctor. After he’d gone, he felt the warm weight of Evie’s hand landing in the middle of his chest.
“Your heart’s going crazy,” she said.
He was practically strangling her other hand and he released it, pulling his away. She didn’t lift the hand resting on his sternum, and even though he really wanted to be alone right now, with no witnesses to see him trying to hold himself together, there was something about the steady, gentle weight of it that helped him center himself. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed to normal and Evie slipped her hand away.
And even though he hadn’t wanted it, he missed her touch.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked.
“No.” Fuck, no.
“I didn’t think so.”
He could hear the sadness in her voice. Great. Evie felt sorry for him. Just what he wanted.
“You don’t need to be here,” he said abruptly. “You’ve got places to be. You should go hook up with your friend in Santa Fe.”
“Nice try,” she said.
He heard the rustle of clothing, then the sound of what he thought might be a second chair being moved around.
“What are you doing?” he asked, hating that he had to ask.
“Making myself comfortable.”
He opened his mouth to tell her to go again, but she beat him to it.
“No. I’m not going. Suck it up, Tanner. Learn to live with it.”
A burst of red-hot anger raced through him, thickening his throat, and the urge to lash out was almost irresistible.
Then Evie shifted, and he caught a hint of her perfume, and he pictured her sitting beside his bed, legs stretched out on a second chair, her chin stubborn, her blue eyes determined.
The anger leached out of him as quickly as it had arrived, and all he was left with was a hollow feeling in his gut.
No more bull riding. How was he supposed to even begin to get his head around that?
*
Evie was gritty-eyed from lack of sleep by the time she left the hospital that night. She caught a taxi back to the hotel, her mind full of thoughts of a shower. She knew she should eat something that didn’t come from a vending machine, too, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it past the tightness in her throat.
Her chest literally ached for Tanner. Watching him hear that the thing he loved doing more than anything in the world was barred to him had been the most painful thing she’d ever experienced. He’d flinched, a small, telltale jerk of his body, and his already pale face had gotten even paler.
If he’d been a woman, he’d have been howling his eyes out, but he wasn’t, he was a tough bull rider, and she bet he probably wouldn’t even shed a private tear when he was alone. Even though his heart had just been broken.
She wished there was something she could do to help ease his pain, but he wasn’t a man who let it all hang out at the best of times. And this was definitely not the best of times.
Once she was in the hotel, she crossed to the elevator and swiped her key card to access their floor. Weary, she watched the floors roll by on the backlit indicator. Troy had talked to the hotel this morning when it had hit her that Tanner was supposed to check out today. He’d texted back to say everything was taken care of. She had no idea what that meant, but trusted that it was. He’d also collected Tanner’s gear and truck from the stadium and left it in the hotel’s parking garage. Evie made a mental note to collect the keys from reception.
There was a white envelope on the carpet inside the door when she let herself into their room, and she bent to pick it up. Inside was a letter from the hotel, letting her know they were comping Tanner’s accommodation for this visit and that she should let them know if she needed any further assistance. They considered Tanner a valued guest who had been staying with them for many years and wished him all the best with his recovery.
It was such an unexpected act of kindness, especially from a big, faceless hotel chain, and it got to Evie in a way that lots of other things hadn’t. Crossing to her bed, she sat and let herself shed a few of the tears that had been building up in her chest for the past twenty-four hours.
Once the pressure had eased, she made an effort to pull herself together. The hotel had solved one of the issues that had been nagging at the back of her mind, but there were other problems to solve, too. Tanner would be discharged from hospital soon and he would need to get home somehow. His truck was here, and she’d already decided she wanted to take him home. She had another ten days in the US, and her plan to go to Santa Fe had only been a makeshift measure, anyway. This way, she could do something practical and useful—and she could satisfy her own need to ensure he was okay.
She glanced at her hand, remembering the way he’d almost crushed it in his in the wake of the news that he would never ride again. She hadn’t been sure he’d accept her comfort, but she hadn’t been able to not offer it, just as she’d been unable to leave him afterward.
Whether he liked it or not, she cared about him and wanted him to make a full recovery. And if she could help make that happen, then she was going to do it.
The thought gave her new energy, and she bounced off the bed and stripped for a shower. Afterward, she spent some time repacking her case before turning to Tanner’s things.
She felt a little nervous as she considered his large, beaten-up suitcase. It felt like an invasion of his privacy to touch his clothes without him being there, but she’d had a quick conversation with the nurses before she left the hospital tonight, and it was likely Tanner would be discharged either tomorrow or the day after. Effectively, she had no choice but to barge on in, so she put her big girl panties on and did just that.
His dirty laundry was easy—because he was a neat freak, it was all folded carefully inside a cotton sack, ready to be stowed in his case. She shifted a small stack of clean boxer briefs to one side, then added a pile of plain white T-shirts to it. His tracksuit pants were folded on the end of the bed, and she remembered the way they’d hung so low on his hips when he’d stalked toward her the first morning they were together. The fabric was soft and warm beneath her hands and she pressed them slowly into the case, sending up a prayer to the universe that Tanner was going to be able to find the way back to himself after the loss of his career.
She collected his toiletries next, stowing them in the leather zip bag she’d found in his case. She paused to sniff his deodorant, closing her eyes as it took her back to being held in his arms. Then she caught sight of her dopey reflection in the mirror and gave herself a mental shake.
What are you doing, stupid head?
She didn’t know. She felt so anxious for Tanner, which was crazy when she considered how long they’d known each other. But he’d been so tender and protective with her, so passionate and generous. This afternoon, when he woke, she’d had to quell the urge to climb onto the bed and hold him in her arms.
Meeting her eyes in the mirror, she admitted she was playing with fire, stepping up like this to help him recover. He was a sexy, charismatic man, and she already felt more for him that she’d thought it was possible to feel for someone she’d only just met. That was only going to get worse if she insisted on driving him home and ensuring he was settled.
“So be it,” she told her reflection, turning away.
She’d already decided she wasn’t bailing on him, and she could handle a bit of heartache if it meant making sure Tanner had what he needed to get on with his life.
In fact, it seemed like a very small price to pay.
*
“I want a second opinion.” The words came out of Tanner’s mouth the moment he set eyes on Doc Freeman the next morning, even though he’d planned to lead up to the request with some polite small talk.
So much for that plan.
“Okay. You’re entitled to do that, but you should know Gary Collins is one of the leading retinal specialists in the country. He practically wrote the book on traumatic retinal detachment, which is why we flew him in to take care of you,” Freeman said.
“I appreciate that. But I can’t walk away from my career without asking the question,” Tanner said.
He hated not being able to see people’s faces when he was talking to them. It had only taken twelve hours of temporary blindness for him to understand how many cues he took from people’s facial expressions and body language. Without either to supplement what he was hearing, he felt as though he was wading through cement every time he communicated with someone.
“All right. Let me get some names for you.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Tanner said. “Also, you got any idea when they’re going to spring me from this place?”
“Well, that depends. You’re going to need someone to keep an eye on you, look out for you for the next week or so. You got someone at home who can do that?”
Tanner’s thoughts went to the couple who took care of the ranch while he was on the road. Johnny B and Helen were old friends, and even though they were both busy taking care of the horse breeding and accommodation sides of his property, he figured they’d probably be able to work something out between them.
“Yeah, I’ve got some options,” he said. “Does that mean I can go?”
“Don’t tell me he’s already kicking up about going home? What’s wrong, Harding, don’t you like hospital food?” Kane Wilder’s deep voice said from the doorway.
“I like it about as much as you do, Wilder,” Tanner said.
He pushed himself higher against the pillows, wishing he didn’t feel so helpless. He could only imagine what a sight he made, half naked with a few miles of gauze wrapped around his head.
“Bought you some liquid nutrition,” Kane said, and Tanner heard the resonant thunk of a thick glass bottle landing on the drawer unit beside his bed.
“There’d better be an ugly turkey on that label,” Tanner said.
“You think I’d bring you anything else?” Kane said.
“I’m going to leave you boys to it,” Freeman said. “Tanner, I’ll get back to you with a discharge time.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Tanner heard the distinctive sound of Kane settling into the visitor’s chair: the hiss of air escaping the vinyl-covered cushion, the creak of the metal frame.
“So, how long you out for?” Kane asked.
Tanner hesitated, unsure how to answer. According to Doc Freeman and his eye specialist buddy, he was never coming back. But Tanner wasn’t ready to accept that. He’d never gone down without a fight in his life.
“Hard to say just yet,” he said. “Still waiting for the dust to settle.”
“You’ll have that cozy $28,000 to keep you warm while you wait, anyway,” Kane said.
It was a measure of where his head was at that it took him a moment to work out what his friend was saying.
“I won the Invitational?”
“By more than twenty points.”
Tanner grinned. “Almost makes the hospital food worthwhile.”
He felt a weight on the bed and guessed Kane had stretched out his legs and propped them on the end of the mattress. Making himself at home.
“Was worried for a while there that you were gonna be out altogether, the way everyone was talking.”
“Not ready to hang up my rope yet,” Tanner said.
The tight feeling was back in his shoulders.
Kane laughed softly, and Tanner turned his head toward the sound.
“Am I missing out on a joke?” he asked. His hand automatically went to the sheet, making sure everything that needed to be covered was covered.
Man, he hated how freaking vulnerable not being able to see made him feel. Being weak was just not part of his playbook, and never had been.
“Just thinking about something that rookie kid Eduardo was saying the other night,” Kane said. “Barely through his first year, and he’s already got his retirement all mapped out.”
“Yeah?”
Eduardo was one of many Brazilian bull riders who came to America to try to hit the big time and the big money. They were fierce competitors, some of the best on the tour.
“He wants to open a steak house. Beers and Steers, he’s going to call it.”
Tanner smiled. “Right.”
“But the best bit is the tag line—if you can’t beat ’em, eat ’em.”
Tanner laughed, and it felt good, like a small piece of normal in a deeply abnormal world.
“You heading back home?” he asked, and for the next ten minutes they discussed Kane’s plans for the break, the tour rankings and other rider scuttlebutt.
“Better hit the road,” Kane said after a while. “Got a long drive ahead of me.”
“Thanks for the turkey. I’ll think of you next time I’m shitfaced.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Hard Man.”
Even though he felt stupid and had no idea if he was even aiming in the right direction, Tanner held out his hand, and after a split second Kane shook it, his grasp firm.
“See you real soon,” Kane said.
“That’s the plan,” Tanner said.
He waited until his friend’s footsteps had receded into the distance before resting his head back against the pillows and letting his breath out in a noisy rush.
Please, Jesus, don’t let this be the end for me.
The sound of light, feminine laughter had him lifting his head and turning toward the door, and sure enough he heard Evie enter, her step light and familiar.
“Good morning, cowboy. I brought you pancakes.”
The smell of butter and spicy maple syrup hit as she set something down in front of him. His mouth started watering like crazy.
“Where’d you get those?” he asked.
“The nurses told me about this place around the corner. It’s their secret weapon, used only to bribe deeply recalcitrant patients. I’m going to put a couple of napkins on you so you can make a mess and not worry about it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, not entirely joking.
“Hey, you’ll probably be neater than me on a good day,” Evie said cheerfully.
He felt her light touch as she settled the napkins on his chest, then she slipped a plastic fork and knife into his hands.
“You want the syrup all over?”
“Please.”
“There’s coffee, too, when you’re done.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
He could hear the reserve in his own voice, but there was precious little he could do about it. He’d gone from being Evie’s lover to her patient, and it rankled on just about every level.
Just one of the many reasons he planned to convince her to rebook her ticket to Santa Fe today. He was not throwing himself on anyone’s mercy. Period.
“So. I did a bit of Googling this morning. I’m not sure exactly where your place is in Current Creek, but the internet tells me it should take us about eleven hours to get there, so I figured we should split the drive into two days to make it a little more bearable.” Evie’s tone was upbeat and breezy, as if she hoped he wouldn’t notice what she’d suggested if she presented it in the right way.
He set down the knife and fork and finished chewing what was in his mouth. Then he reached for the napkins on his chest and balled them up.
“No,” he said simply.
“No, you don’t want to do it over two days?”
“No, you’re not driving me home.”
“Why not?”
Somehow he repressed the urge to swear. “Because I don’t want you to.”
The words came out sharply, loudly. He didn’t need to see Evie’s face to know he’d hurt her. He could practically see the wounded expression in her blue eyes.
“How else are you going to get home?” she asked.
“I’ve got people on the ranch who can come get me.”
“How are they going to do that and take care of your stock and paying guests?” she asked.
“We’ll work it out.”
“I thought you wanted to get out of here?”
“Evie, none of this is your problem,” he said, trying to rein in his frustration.
“Me being stuck in that crappy motel with a door that didn’t lock properly wasn’t your problem, either. And look what happened with that.”
“Different situation.”
“Bull. Here’s the deal, Tanner Harding. I’m stuck in the US for another ten days, give or take. I have nothing to do and nowhere to be until my flight leaves from Santa Fe. And you need to get home, along with your truck and all your gear. Why not let me drive you?”
He didn’t even know where to begin.
“How about because it’s in the opposite direction from Santa Fe?” he said, barely holding on to his temper.
“There’s this little thing called the miracle of flight. I’ve already looked into it—I can get a flight from Pueblo to Santa Fe no problems, and it’s almost cheaper than my Greyhound ticket. If someone can drive me from your place to Pueblo, we’re cooking with gas.”
“Evie…” He bit back the words that were choking his throat. What she was offering to do for him was sweet and generous in the extreme—which was one of the many reasons he couldn’t let her do it.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he finally ground out.
“This isn’t some debt recovery scheme, Tanner. You need a lift home, and I’m available. You’re a smart man. Use your head and don’t be too proud to accept help from a friend.”
Her words were so matter-of-fact and brutally logical that for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. He knew she was right—that her driving him home would solve a host of problems—but his instinctive rejection of the idea didn’t have a whole lot to do with logic or rational thought.
“Good, glad you see it my way,” Evie said, and he could hear the satisfaction in her voice.
“I didn’t agree to anything,” he said.
“Yeah, but you will. And a woman ain’t got all day, Tanner.”
It took him a second to recognize his own words. Trust Evie to hoist him with his own petard. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but be amused. He tried to control his smile, though, because he wasn’t on the mat on this whole driving-him-home scheme yet and he didn’t want her to think he was conceding.
“Eat your pancakes,” Evie said gruffly, sliding the knife and fork back into his hands. “Then we can argue about this some more.”