Chapter Nine
Evie decided to take the risk of wearing her cowboy boots to the stadium. The leather was stiff, and she’d been told they’d take a few wears to soften, but it felt wrong to wear anything else when she was going to watch a bunch of cowboys ride some crazy bulls.
She walked the few blocks to the Bank of Oklahoma Center, then went to the gate Tanner had directed her to and told them who she was. A ticket was handed over and Evie made her way into the stadium and followed the overhead signs to her section. She was a little alarmed to find she was sitting right down near the rail, just a dozen feet or so from the chutes. From the one bull-riding event she’d attended in Australia, she knew most of the action tended to happen close to the chutes, since the bulls were more preoccupied with unseating their riders than running around the ring.
She’d been comped a prime seat, yet another way that Tanner had looked after her. Apparently she had only to voice a wish to have it granted.
The thought triggered a wave of erotic sense memories and she shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. She was starting to worry that sleeping with Tanner had done something to her because she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about sex. When she’d been out shopping, a glimpse of a dark-haired man bending to try on a pair of boots had reminded her of the sight of Tanner’s head between her thighs, his mouth doing incredible things to her.
And now she was sitting here surrounded by families, Queen’s We Will Rock You blaring, and remembering the way he’d pushed her against the wall and thrust into her over and over.
Evie fanned her top, aware she was probably more than a little flushed. Hopefully people would just think she was excited about the night ahead.
Which she was, but in a different way.
The music faded as an MC came on and welcomed everyone to the final night of the Tulsa Invitational. In a smooth, deep voice he told the crowd the winner of tonight’s event would walk away with $28,000 and points toward the world title. In the arena, four cowboys poured something onto the ground, then touched a flame to it. The words American Extreme flared to life, burning yellow and blue. A series of electronic screens around the arena switched from images of event highlights to rider profiles as the MC ran through the rankings to date. Evie sat a little straighter when she saw Tanner’s name at the top of the list.
He was winning. In fact, if her rudimentary understanding of how these events worked was correct, he was the odds-on favorite.
And he hadn’t said a word to her about it.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, more than a little ticked off at his extreme modesty. Men. Or maybe that should be cowboys. The roustabouts and cattlemen back home were the same—reticent to a fault when it came to blowing their own horns.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for the country’s baddest, bravest, boldest bull riders,” the MC said, and everyone got to their feet, stomping and whistling, clapping and cheering as a double row of bull riders entered the dirt-floored arena and formed two loose semicircles facing the crowd. Flares exploded, sending sparks and smoke into the air, and lights flashed and strobed, making it look more like a rock concert than a sporting event.
The MC introduced each rider by name, and Evie couldn’t help grinning when Tanner’s name boomed out over the speakers. He looked almost aggressively handsome in his starched black shirt, Wranglers, and red and black leather chaps with fancy decorative tooling and fringes that danced when he stepped forward. He was slightly taller than the other riders, she noticed, and the crowd’s applause swelled for him, telling her he was a favorite.
She was almost surprised when she heard Troy’s name come over the speakers, and she glanced across to where he was lifting his hat and nodding to the crowd. How strange that she’d completely forgotten he was riding tonight, too.
She sank back into her seat along with the rest of the crowd as the riders filed back out of the stadium, trying to understand herself. Two days ago, she’d been humiliated and hurt because she’d caught Troy with another woman, and now she was sitting here, her belly jumpy with nerves because she was focused on another man entirely.
It wasn’t that she was fickle or shallow; she was almost certain of it. She’d held a flame for Troy for years, after all. When she’d spilled her guts to Tanner that first night in his hotel room, she’d told him she was starting to suspect she’d come to Tulsa to have her heart broken. At the time, she hadn’t entirely meant it. She’d simply been trying to acknowledge the doubts she’d had about her so-called relationship with Troy right from the start.
But maybe her words had been more accurate than she’d understood. Maybe she really had come here to cauterize the wound that was her unrequited love for Troy, and maybe she’d been more than ready to move on when the opportunity presented itself in the very tempting form of Tanner Harding.
It was hard to be certain about anything, given the intensity of the last few days. Between jet lag, shock at Troy’s betrayal, and what had happened with Tanner, it had been a crazy weekend and perhaps she wouldn’t fully understand it until she could look back at it all with the benefit of hindsight.
One thing was for sure, though—she couldn’t and wouldn’t regret falling into bed with Tanner. There were some experiences that were so elemental and raw they simply couldn’t be denied, and being with Tanner was one of them.
She shook off her introspection as the MC announced the first rider, a Brazilian who was just nineteen years old. His face was unlined and almost sweet in the headshot that flashed up on the screen alongside his ride stats to date. Evie frowned. Did his mother know he was risking his neck riding bulls every weekend?
The screen filled with an overhead shot of the chute, showing an enormous bull and the Brazilian preparing to mount him. Watching the big beast shift restively against the rails, Evie felt the churn of nerves.
As a future vet, she had mixed feelings about any sporting event that utilized animals for entertainment. On the other hand, she’d grown up on a cattle station, and she had a rural dweller’s pragmatic attitude to livestock.
She knew from the research she’d done when Troy first started bull riding that there were stringent controls on the way the bulls were transported and handled. She’d seen stats that said a typical bull would “perform” for less than two minutes a year on the circuit, and that most bulls would only take one rider per event. She also knew that stock contractors could earn a lot of money from a “rank” bull, which made it in their best interest to ensure the welfare of their animals. Once retired, the bulls were put out to pasture to live out their days siring more bulls and enjoying the life of Riley.
Not a bad deal, when she considered the fate of most other farmed animals in modern agriculture.
The roar of the crowd alerted her to the fact the gate had opened. The bull sprang into the arena, the Brazilian clinging gamely to his back, and Evie held her breath as the rider was whipped this way and that, somehow staying seated no matter how the bull bucked and twisted.
The clock ticked toward eight seconds, and just as she thought the rider had qualified, he lost his center and the bull sent him flying. He landed on one shoulder, hard, and shocked gasps could be heard left and right. Beside Evie, a woman covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as she waited for the rider to get up off the ground. Two insanely brave men were distracting the bull and herding it toward the exit gate, and only when the bull was gone and the gate closed did support crew run onto the arena.
Evie’s hands were tight on her knees as she waited to see if the rider was okay. The crowd started clapping as he stood with the help of one of the medical crew, waving a hand before limping slowly from the arena.
“Bloody hell,” Evie said as she sank back into her seat.
Just in case she hadn’t fully comprehended how high the stakes were in this sport, the first ride out of the gate had reminded her. Every year, men died or were critically injured trying to ride these enormous bulls. It was classed as the most dangerous sport in the world, and Troy had once told her bull riders had a saying: It’s not if you’re going to get hurt, it’s when and how bad.
And Tanner was scheduled to ride in half an hour’s time.
You signed up for this. You wanted to come.
She had, and she was glad to be here, but there was no denying that she was probably going to feel more than a little sick when it was Tanner in the chute.
She became increasingly nervous as the clock ticked down to Tanner’s ride. Twice she pulled out her phone to text him a good luck wish, and twice she put it away. She didn’t want to distract him when he was probably psyching himself up for his ride. No doubt he had a routine and rituals, like most pro athletes. She didn’t want to get in the way of that—she wanted him to be at his best, so he could walk away from his ride intact and whole.
“Tulsa, get excited, because next up in the chute is the Invitational favorite, Tanner ‘Hard Man’ Harding. A nine-year veteran of the sport, Tanner has a world title under his belt and is gunning hard for a second shot this year. The way he’s been riding lately, he’s in with a red-hot chance and we can’t wait to see him go head to head with Hurricane Habit, a newcomer to the tour who has already built himself a reputation of being rank and ready to destroy anyone who dares to mount him.”
The MC’s patter went on, but Evie tuned it out, her gaze glued to the screen where she could see Tanner in the chute. The protective grill on his helmet obscured his face, but she could tell it was him by the way he held himself. She watched as he stroked his glove along his rope to activate the rosin before adjusting it and wrapping it around his fist and laying the loose end across the bull’s neck. Rising a little, he shuffled forward on the bull’s back until he was almost sitting on his rope.
“Oh, God,” Evie whispered to herself.
Now that crunch time was here, she wasn’t sure she could watch. Her hands were clammy, and she couldn’t decide if she needed to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to throw up.
On the screen, Tanner had his head down, his focus somewhere on the bull’s back. Then he gave a small nod to the guy manning the latch, and the gate swung wide.
Evie scooted right to the edge of her seat, every muscle tense as she leaned forward to watch the bull jackknife out of the chute. Sawdust flew as the animal bucked and jumped and twisted and turned. She forgot to breathe as she watched Tanner counteract every move the bull pulled, arching back when the bull kicked his hind legs, standing on his spurs when the bull kicked up his front legs. Tanner’s torso twisted with the bull, his free hand a blur in the air. He made it look effortless, the way he simply stuck in the saddle as though he was welded there.
Despite herself, she felt a rising sense of excitement and triumph as she realized he was going to stick the ride for eight seconds and qualify. She already knew from his standing that if he made it, he’d won the event, and she gave a shriek of approval as the buzzer sounded to signal he’d qualified.
The bull didn’t know the ride was over, though, and was still doing his damnedest to unseat Tanner. She saw Tanner judge his timing, then release the rope and leap to the side. He landed on his hip and rolled to his feet—just as the bull pulled a seemingly impossible midair twist that sent his rear hooves flying toward Tanner’s head.
Evie’s shout of triumph died in her throat as Tanner’s head was flung backward by the blow, the sound audible and sickening. He fell to the dirt as though he’d been shot, and there wasn’t a doubt in Evie’s mind that he was unconscious.
Tears flooded her eyes and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. Her first instinct was to race forward, climb the rail and run to his side. She retained enough common sense to know that was both dumb and impossible—the drop to the arena floor was over twelve feet, and she was a vet, not a doctor.
Both hands pressed to her chest, she watched as a full medical team ran out to surround Tanner. The crowd was quiet, the atmosphere shocked. Everyone knew that something very serious had just happened.
Two runners appeared with a stretcher, and Evie watched as they carefully transferred Tanner’s very still body onto it. They’d put a collar around his neck to support his spine, but even from here she could see that wasn’t the issue—his left eye was a bloody mess, blood pooling in the socket.
When she was in high school, she’d been riding with a friend when they’d come across a snake unexpectedly. Her friend’s horse had panicked, rearing up in fright, and her friend had fallen and hit her head on a fence post. She’d been as still as Tanner was now when they lifted her into the Royal Flying Doctor’s ambulance plane. She’d died that night in hospital from a massive brain bleed.
Please, don’t let Tanner die. Please let him be okay.
The woman next to her was looking at her, and Evie realized she must have said her prayer out loud.
“The doctors they’ve got here are the best,” she said. “They’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry.”
She patted Evie’s arm consolingly, and Evie forced a smile. Now that the first shock had worn off, she could think more clearly. Standing, she made her way to the aisle, excusing her way past half a dozen subdued audience members before racing up the stairs.
She tried to remember where the security guards had taken her to meet Troy. They’d gone down some stairs, and there had been a red door…
She ran down the corridor, her boot heels like gunshots on the concrete floor. Down the stairs, and left along another section of concourse. Finally she spotted a familiar landmark—a concession stand with a massive bucking bull emblazoned on the side. Just behind it was the red door. She hit it running, unable to shake the image of Tanner’s pale and bloodied face.
“Excuse me, Miss. You can’t be back here.”
The voice came from behind Evie. She ignored it, spotting a laminated sign taped to the wall, directing riders to the medical rooms. That’s where they’d take Tanner, right? Or maybe he was already in an ambulance, going to hospital.
“Hey. Stop right there, lady.”
Suddenly there was another security guard in front of her, barring her way.
“I’m with Tanner Harding. I need to see him; he’s been hurt,” she explained, her voice high with urgency.
“Do you have a security pass, ma’am?” the guard asked. He was gray-haired and kind-looking, but she got the sense he wasn’t about to let her go anywhere without some kind of official sanction.
“No. We’re friends. We’re going out for dinner afterward…”
The guard’s expression changed, and Evie could see him mentally filing her under “crazed buckle bunny”.
“Please. I have to see him. They took him out on a stretcher.”
“You really can’t be back here, I’m sorry,” the guard said, taking her by the elbow.
Evie dug her heels in, ready to resist. Then she spotted a familiar figure at the end of the corridor.
“Troy.”
Troy’s head snapped around and he frowned. Then he was striding her way.
“Evie. What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on Tanner. Can you vouch for me, please?”
Troy’s frown deepened but he glanced at the guard. “She’s okay. I know her.”
“Okay, if you say so,” the guard said, shooting Evie a speculative look.
“Where is he? Is he okay? Do they know how badly hurt he is? Please tell me he’s not still unconscious?” she asked.
“I don’t know anything. I just heard he got taken off. I was going to check in with the sports medicine team to see what’s going on.” Troy gave Evie a searching look. “I didn’t know you knew Tanner that well.”
“Can we go to ask them now? Can you make sure he’s okay for me?”
Troy looked as though he wanted to keep interrogating her but seemed to think twice about it.
“It’s just up here,” he said, indicating with a jerk of his chin that she should come with him.
They followed the corridor around a corner and were forced to stop when they found the way blocked by a crowd of people gathered around a closed door.
“Is this where they’d bring him?” Evie asked, standing on her toes and trying to see over people’s heads.
“Yeah. Give me a second.”
Troy started elbowing and excusing his way through the crowd. A few people threw Evie curious looks but she kept her gaze glued to the back of Troy’s head, her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to contain her growing anxiety. She could tell by the way people had gathered out here and the expressions on their faces that this was not business as usual for the tour.
Evie bit her lip as Troy made his way back to her.
“He’s in an ambulance on the way to St Francis Hospital.”
Evie immediately swiveled on her heel, heading back the way they’d come.
“Evie, wait. Where are you going?”
“To the hospital.” Wasn’t it obvious?
Troy grabbed her arm to stop her. “They won’t tell you anything.”
“I’ll make them tell me.”
“How? You barely know the guy.”
“We’re sharing a room, Troy, okay?”
She could tell by the way Troy flinched that he got what she was saying.
“What the fuck, Evie?” he said, and the look on his face was exactly how she imagined her brother or father would look under similar circumstances.
“Don’t even think of giving me a lecture on morality or being careful or anything deeply hypocritical like that, okay? Tanner has been amazing to me, and I need to know he’s going to be okay.”
A muscle flickered in Troy’s jaw. Evie tilted her head and fixed him with a steady, determined gaze, silently conveying her determination. Finally he shook his head and swore under his breath.
“All right. Fine. You head in to the hospital. I’d come with you but I’ve still got to ride. I’ll call Doc Freeman, see if I can get him to keep you in the loop. He’s probably with Tanner at the hospital, knowing him.”
“Thank you.”
“Call me if you need anything else, okay?” he said.
For a moment she was overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude that someone from home—someone she trusted, someone familiar—was here to keep her grounded. She threw her arms around Troy, giving him a quick hug, then disengaged and started for the exit. She’d seen a taxi rank when she arrived at the stadium earlier. Hopefully there would still be some cabs there, even though the show wasn’t due to finish for another hour.
She got lucky—there was one taxi left in the rank, and she waved to the driver before opening the rear door and sliding inside.
“St Francis Hospital, please,” she said.
Thank God she’d gone to an ATM and taken out more US dollars today. One tiny stroke of luck in what was shaping up to be a horrible night.
Ten minutes later, they were slowing in front of an enormous hospital complex. The driver dropped her near the emergency department and she half-ran, half-walked to the entrance.
A quick scan of the space oriented her—waiting area to the right, reception to the left. Evie made a beeline for the desk and waited for the nurse to finish a phone call.
“I’m here for Tanner Harding. He’s a bull rider; they brought him in not long ago,” Evie said.
“And who are you, ma’am?”
“I’m a friend. Evie Forrester.”
“I’m afraid we can only give patient updates to family members.”
“I’m his girlfriend,” Evie said, not even hesitating over the white lie. “He’s got no family nearby. We’re in town for the Tulsa Invitational. Please, I need to know he’s okay.”
The nurse looked torn, and Evie racked her brain for something else to say.
“Dr. Freeman from the tour knows I’m coming,” she said, praying that Troy had spoken to the man.
“All right, take a seat. I’ll make some enquiries for you.”
The urgent need to have reassurance now made Evie open her mouth to push harder, but then common sense reasserted itself and she simply nodded and backed away. Finding an empty seat, she sat and wrapped her arms around herself.
The image of Tanner’s still body being stretchered off the arena was on a loop in her mind. She reminded herself he’d been wearing a helmet, and that he was incredibly fit and healthy. He’d had medical care almost immediately, and right now he was probably surrounded by a top-notch team of doctors.
None of it stopped reaction from settling in, making her whole body quiver and her teeth chatter. She clenched her jaw and got up to pace, rubbing her arms to try to calm herself.
After fifteen minutes, she felt a little better and resumed her seat. A few minutes after that, a nurse approached the waiting area.
“Evie Forrester?”
Evie sprang to her feet. “Yes?”
“You’re here for Tanner Harding, is that right?”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s doing okay. He’s conscious, but the doctors have sedated him while they investigate his eye injury. We suspect a fracture of the orbit, and they’re also concerned about trauma to the eye itself. And, of course, he’s also sustained a concussion.”
“All right,” Evie said, nodding. Trying to take it all in. “When will you know more?”
“It’s hard to say. But I’ll keep you posted if you want to stick around? Or we can call you?”
“I’ll wait.”
She wasn’t going to go back to Tanner’s hotel room while he was lying in here on his own.
“There’s a coffee machine down the hall,” the nurse said kindly.
“Thanks.”
Evie resumed her seat. Then she pulled out her phone and sent Troy a quick text, conveying what she’d just been told. He’d been worried for Tanner, too, even if he had come over all big brother when he understood Evie was sleeping with the other man.
She lost track of time after that. At some point she went to get a coffee. Around her, the emergency department ebbed and flowed, patients coming in, patients going out. She was dozing, her chin on her chest, when a light touch on her shoulder woke her.
“Evie Forrester? I’m Travis Freeman, the tour doctor.”
He looked to be in his mid-forties, with glasses and thick, dark eyebrows.
“Is he okay?” she asked instantly. Then she realized how rude she sounded and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Nice to meet you. Is Tanner okay?”
He smiled faintly. “He’s doing pretty good, considering. Resting comfortably at the moment. I’m not sure what you’ve been told—”
“Suspected fracture of the orbit, concussion, query eye trauma,” she reeled off.
“Okay. The fracture of the orbit is confirmed, but it’s a hairline crack and won’t need surgery. Best we can tell, the concussion is mild, and there is no bleeding or anything else we need to be concerned about. The eye itself is more complicated.”
He gestured toward the seat she’d just vacated and waited until she was sitting before taking the seat beside her. “The blow to his eye has detached his retina. We suspect it’s a big tear, and I’ve already called an ophthalmologist colleague of mine in Houston who owes me a favor or two. He’s one of the best in the country, and he’ll be here first thing tomorrow to operate.”
Evie blinked, processing everything he’d told her.
“So, what’s the prognosis? Will he make a full recovery? Will there be permanent damage to his eyesight?”
“We won’t know until afterward. The success rate for surgery is strong, and there’s a good chance he’ll get some sight back, even if it isn’t twenty-twenty.” He hesitated. “The major thing with this sort of injury, regardless of outcome, is the risk of recurrence. He’s going to have to be careful in the future. No blows to the head, regular eye tests. That sort of thing.”
He was watching her carefully, and for a moment she didn’t understand why. And then it hit her.
“He won’t be able to ride again,” she said.
“No, he won’t. Not without risking permanent blindness,” Dr. Freeman said.
His expression was sympathetic, and she knew he understood what this would do to Tanner. Because bull riding wasn’t just Tanner’s job, it was his life. It was how he defined himself; it was who he was. Living on the road, staring death in the face every weekend… It was his lifeblood.
How did a guy ever move on from that kind of high-octane living? There was no way “normal” was ever going cut it for someone like Tanner.
“He’s going to be out for a while, so if you want to go back to the hotel, get some rest, now’s the time,” the doctor said.
“Can I see him?” Evie asked.
“He’s sedated. He won’t be lucid for hours.”
“I just want to see him,” Evie said.
She needed to see for herself that he was whole and not in any pain or discomfort.
Dr. Freeman gave a small nod and stood, and Evie followed him along a corridor to the elevators. They went up two floors, then wound their way through a series of wards until he stopped outside a private room.
“I’m heading back to try to grab some sleep now. But the nurses have my number. If you need anything, if Tanner has any questions, you call me, okay? Don’t worry about the time.”
Evie smiled her thanks. This man obviously had personal relationships with the riders he cared for and took his responsibilities as their physician very seriously.
“Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me,” she said.
He rested a hand on her shoulder before turning away. Evie faced the door, took a deep breath, then pushed it open.
She took a step into the room and then stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the hospital bed. Tanner lay flat on the mattress, no pillows, his chest bare except for a couple of heart rate monitors that had been stuck to his chest. His arms lay loose and still on the bed linen, an IV snaking into one arm on the inside of his elbow. Layers of gauze wrapped his head, the padding over his left eye marking the site of his injury.
He looked pale and utterly unlike the vital, confident man she’d gotten to know over the past few days. A lump of pure emotion got caught in her throat and she tilted her head back and blinked rapidly, denying herself the indulgence of tears.
Her getting all weepy over Tanner’s injuries wasn’t going to help anyone or change anything. What he needed right now was a friend, someone to help him navigate the next few days while he came to terms with what had happened to him.
He’d mentioned a mother and a sister, but her best guess was that it would take them at least twenty-four hours to get here, and his bull-riding buddies no doubt had travel arrangements for tomorrow, since it was the start of a rare hiatus in the tour schedule. They’d all be heading home to visit wives, children and families.
Which meant it was up to her to be here for Tanner, the way he’d stepped up for her when she’d needed someone to look out for her. Knowing him, he wouldn’t like it much. In fact, she could almost see the expression on his face as he told her not to worry about him.
Well, tough. He’d rescued her, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Quid pro quo. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Sitting in the chair beside the bed, she shuffled it a little closer, then reached out and took his hand. It was reassuringly warm, and she wove her fingers with his and took a deep, calming breath.
Then she settled in to wait.