A Bull Rider's Pride

by Amanda Renee

  She sighed. “I’ve sacrificed a lot to become an orthopedic surgeon—my family, friends, social life, not to mention four hundred thousand dollars in student loans I still have to repay. I was one of the surgeons who put you back together—you were on the operating table for fifteen hours. I tend to get a little frustrated when a patient wants to put himself in the same environment that brought him here in the first place.”

  Well that made him feel like a first-class ass. “Don’t get me wrong, Dr. Lindstrom. I respect your point of view. All I ask is that you respect mine, as well.”

  Dr. Lindstrom’s lips thinned. She opened a large envelope the nurse handed her and crossed the room to the light box on the wall. Turning it on, she held up his films. “These are from your CT scans yesterday. Your hip replacement healed beautifully. You’re lucky you’re in a facility that uses the anterior approach because your recovery would’ve been much longer if it had been performed the traditional way. Your broken clavicle, sternum and left humerus look good. The fact you can wheel yourself all over this hospital proves your shoulder surgeries were a success. I understand from your physical therapist that you’re still feeling tightness in your thighs, left knee and spinal regions.”

  “It’s not so much tightness as it is weakness.” Brady attempted to sit taller in his chair. “I can stand, but I tire quickly.”

  Dr. Lindstrom slid the scans back into the envelope and handed it to the nurse. “Let’s take a look.” She walked to him, checked the brakes on his wheelchair and held out both of her hands for him to hold on to. “Don’t worry, I’m stronger than I look, I won’t let you fall.”

  I won’t let you fall. Brady had said those same words to Gunner when he was learning to walk. Now here he was, a twenty-nine-year-old man learning to walk again.

  “Brady, most of the therapists at Dance of Hope are women. If this is going to be a problem—”

  “No.” Brady met her eyes and reached for her. “It’s not a problem. I just—I needed a second.” Her touch was stronger, more deliberate than when she’d introduced herself earlier. He didn’t doubt her strength or ability to support him. He doubted his resolve to not want more of it.

  Her cheeks darkened to a deep crimson—perhaps she sensed his attraction to her. “Take your time,” she reassured. “I’ve got you.”

  Brady stared at her hospital identification badge as he slowly stood. Her photograph made him momentarily forget the shaking in his legs. She looked different with her dark hair down around her shoulders. Every time he’d seen her, it had always been either in a ponytail or a braid of some sort. Sheila. Her name was Sheila. He’d never known a Sheila before. It suited her.

  She cleared her throat. His gaze immediately flew to hers and then back to her badge, which he realized rested right against her left breast. “I wasn’t looking at your— Your badge... I was looking at your badge.”

  Sheila started to laugh. “It’s all right, Brady.” She took a step closer, offering him more support. “How does that feel?”

  That was a loaded question. It felt amazing standing less than a foot away from her. Feeling her hands in his. She was tall. Taller than he’d thought from the vantage point of his chair. Maybe only four or five inches shorter than his six-foot-two frame. And she didn’t smell as he’d imagined. Whenever he’d seen her, he’d thought of honeysuckle for some reason. Her scent was more of freshly laundered cotton sheets.

  “Brady?”

  That feeling he had forgotten a few seconds ago suddenly came back. “Not as steady as I’d like, but better than yesterday.”

  “Do you feel any pain?”

  Brady shook his head. “I think I stopped noticing pain a month ago.”

  “Okay, you can take a seat.” Sheila waited until he was in his chair before releasing his hands. “Hippotherapy will greatly strengthen your core and leg muscles. I’m going to discharge you today with the understanding that you adhere to the program at Dance of Hope. I will be closely monitoring your progress and I’ll be checking in with you when I make my rounds there. Don’t overdo it, Brady. I don’t want to admit you back into this hospital again.”

  “I’ll be good, Doc.” Brady winked, then instantly regretted it when the nurse giggled. There was nothing like a disabled man flirting with a gorgeous doctor. “You won’t recognize me the next time you see me.”

  Sheila’s brows rose. “I don’t know if I should be scared by that statement or not. Just remember, I’ll be watching you.” She made a V with her fingers and waved them between her eyes and his. “Take care, Brady. I’ll see you soon.”

  Brady was torn between wanting to see her right away and wanting to wait until he could do more than stand on wobbly legs. He knew she doubted he’d make a full recovery, but he’d prove her wrong. And then, maybe he’d even ask her out.

  Chapter Two

  Sheila stripped out of her operating-room scrubs and tossed them into the hospital laundry bin. By the time she’d finished with her rotator-cuff reconstruction, Brady had been discharged and was on his way to Dance of Hope. Anyone who had one of the world’s most dangerous jobs definitely had the dedication it took to recover from his injuries. But a full recovery was doubtful. And she didn’t want Brady to become disillusioned if his body didn’t bounce back the way he hoped.

  The thought of Brady being disappointed or giving up because he could not ride a bull bothered her more than it should. She’d learned during her first year internship to compartmentalize her emotions. Regardless of how hard she tried, she couldn’t save all of them and there were lots of Brady Sawyers in the world. Men determined to push their bodies further than they were meant to go.

  Sheila had made a note on his file to discuss readjustment counseling in the upcoming weeks. She preferred to allow a patient to progress further along in their therapy before making the recommendation. Her colleagues didn’t always agree, but she felt mentioning it too soon shattered morale and hindered their improvement.

  “Thanks for letting me take that surgery.” Marissa entered the locker room. “We had a patellar fracture during the tendon harvest.”

  “You tend to see a lot of that in sports medicine,” Sheila said. “I’m heading to the cafeteria. Care to join me?”

  “Sure. How did it go with your cowboy?”

  The question created a slight tingle in her belly. “He’s not my cowboy.” The image of him standing in front of her replayed in her brain. She shook her head in a vain attempt to rid herself of the memory. “After talking with him, I understand Dr. Mangone’s trepidation about sending him to Dance of Hope. Brady’s a bit too gung ho to climb back on a bull and the fact that the hippotherapy center is located next to a rodeo school concerns me.”

  “Brady?” Marissa stopped in the doorway and faced her. “It didn’t take long to progress to first names.”

  Sheila pushed past her. “Don’t even joke about that. He’s a patient, Marissa. You know any romantic relationship is strictly forbidden by the medical board and this hospital. I’m not willing to risk my residency on anyone.”

  “Relax, I’m only teasing.” Marissa held up her hands. “But if he wasn’t your patient you’d be tempted, right?”

  Sheila spun to face her. “Listen to me. I’ve come too far and worked too hard to jeopardize my career over a rumor. If the wrong person hears what you’re saying, you could ruin everything for me. I’m trying to get into the orthopedic trauma fellowship program next year and I don’t need this.”

  “Whoa. For someone with no romantic attachments to a patient you’re certainly doing your damnedest to defend yourself.”

  She had every reason to. She’d almost given up medical school when her boyfriend asked her to move to Arizona. Fate had intervened and she’d caught him in bed with someone else, saving her from walking away from her dreams. Now she realized no amount of love or promise o
f a happily-ever-after was worth it. Relationships didn’t last forever. Being a doctor would.

  Before Sheila had the chance to argue her point further, both of their pagers went off. Trauma Alert ER. “Let’s move!”

  * * *

  THE DANCE OF HOPE transport van pulled in front of the combined hippotherapy center and rodeo school entrance. The July sun warmed Brady’s face as he eased his legs out of the van and stepped onto the ground using the door as support. A woman with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair greeted him with a wheelchair.

  “I’m Kay Langtry.” She helped him into the chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brady.”

  “Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to be here.”

  “We promise to take good care of you during your stay. Since it’s lunchtime, why don’t I start our tour in the common dining area.”

  Brady hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

  Kay nodded, silently acknowledging that he didn’t need any assistance. He was sweating by the time they reached the center’s entrance. It was the first time he’d used a wheelchair outside. The experience left him craving a cold shower rather than lunch. Brady paused in the entryway. He could hear the whoops and shouts coming from the rodeo school through massive oak doors to the right. He knew those sounds well and he missed them more than anything. The rodeo was his life—his past and his future.

  “Do you need a moment?” Kay crouched down beside him so they were at eye level with one another. A gesture he appreciated. He got tired of always looking up at everyone, especially when he was used to towering over most people.

  “I’m good. I’m anxious to get started.” When Dr. Mangone had told him about the hippotherapy center, he’d hopped online to research it. He’d been relieved to discover it was less than an hour away from his father, son and Alice. “Visitors are allowed, right?”

  “Yes, they are.” Kay stood. “As often as you’d like. Let’s grab a bite to eat and settle you in. Feel free to invite your family to join us for dinner tonight. We always have enough food around here.”

  “Thank you, I think I will.”

  The common dining area took Brady off guard. He’d seen photos of it online, but it had been empty then. He hadn’t been prepared for the number of children in wheelchairs or on crutches. There were some military personnel—both men and women. That he’d expected. But the children broke his heart. Children Gunner’s age.

  “I know this can be unsettling at first.” Kay placed a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t ever tell anyone here that you feel sorry for them or show them any pity. You will find this to be a very grateful and determined group. Everyone has the same goal—to get out of here one day. Some will walk out, others won’t. But it’s a team effort and everybody is rooting for you.”

  Brady felt his heart pound in his chest. He was used to people rooting for him...in a different arena. He’d root for every child, every person here. As much as he wanted to be in his own home, he knew this was the best place for him. He would walk and compete again.

  * * *

  SHEILA SLAMMED HER front door. She’d lost a patient on the operating table. It happened often in trauma surgeries. She should be used to it by now. But how did someone get used to having a person with a family and a future breathing beneath their fingertips one minute and then gone the next along with all their hopes, all their dreams?

  Sheila ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. It never got easier—you just grew more desensitized to it. Today had been particularly difficult—a ten-year-old girl with her whole future ahead of her. Dead thanks to her sister who had been texting and driving. The sister had survived, but would live with the consequences for the rest of her life.

  This was why Sheila was so infuriated with Brady Sawyer. Most of her patients learned something from their experience. The overweight person with two knee replacements learned they had to move and exercise more. The kid with a fractured tibia learned not to attempt a flip-over-willy-grind skateboard trick down the school handrail. What did Brady Sawyer learn? Nothing.

  And yes, there was a chance he’d fully recover. A very slim one, but with the proper therapy, the chance was real. Sheila had been a longtime proponent of hippotherapy and its benefits. Growing up in Colorado, she’d lived near a facility much like Dance of Hope. Few people had known much about hippotherapy and its benefits back then. When she turned fourteen, her parents had allowed her to volunteer there. There was an orthopedic surgeon who visited the facility every week and for four years she’d watched him restore quality of life back to people who’d felt as if their world had ended. He’d inspired her to go into medicine, particularly orthopedic trauma. Now she helped save lives like Brady’s and he was all too willing to throw it away.

  His attitude shouldn’t bother her, but it did. And it would continue to bother her until he was no longer her patient, and then every time she saw a bull riding event on television she’d still wonder. Sheila laughed to herself. He wasn’t her first bull rider and probably wouldn’t be her last. She lived in the heart of Hill Country where rodeos were as common as apple pie. The suburban town she’d grown up in had been a stark contrast. She’d known many equestrians, but not bull riders.

  Thinking of home reminded her it had been over a week since she’d last phoned her parents. Every night there was a message from them on her voice mail. Today she’d actually gotten off early enough to return the call.

  “Hello, honey,” her mom answered on the first ring. “How’s our favorite surgeon?”

  “It was a rough day. I lost a patient.” No matter how difficult her residency was, she knew she could always turn to her mother for comfort.

  “Oh honey, do you want to talk about it?” Sheila heard a muffled sound and assumed her mother had covered the receiver.

  “Mom, tell Daddy later, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather hear about your day.”

  “Your sister had an ultrasound today—a three-dimensional one. You won’t believe how much Sophia resembles you as a baby—that’s the name they’ve chosen—did I tell you that already? Anyway, she posted the photos online. Look at them later if you get the chance. We’ll be so glad when your residency is over next summer and you move home. You’re missing your nieces and nephews growing up.”

  Sheila released her ponytail and flopped onto the couch. “About that. I’ve decided to pursue the two-year orthopedic trauma fellowship at Grace General.”

  “I thought you were looking into fellowships here.” Disappointment was evident in her mother’s tone.

  “I know that was the plan, Mom, but this fellowship wasn’t available until recently. I like Grace General and my work here. I’m looking to make this permanent. My landlord gave me the option to apply my rent toward a down payment on this house. It’s not much but it’s more than I can afford in Colorado. Once I weed through these student loans, then maybe, but I’ve given this a lot of thought and this is what’s best for me.”

  “What about settling down and starting a family? You’re not getting any younger.”

  Any comfort she’d hoped for had just flown out the window. “My social life consists of my colleagues. It’s not as if I have much time or energy to go out and meet people. Besides children require much more than I’m able to give. Maybe in a few years I’ll feel differently. I don’t need a husband and kids to make me happy. I’m content with my life right now.”

  At least that was the lie she told herself every night before she went to bed. Sometimes she’d roll over in the middle of the night and reach out for someone who wasn’t there. Her life severely lacked intimacy. The last hug she’d received had been from a patient after Sheila had given her good news. The last time someone other than a family member had said I love you had been her college boyfriend. And sex? She didn’t want to think about how long that
had been. Okay, so it bothered her, but she’d known this career path came with sacrifices. She’d accepted it. She just didn’t exactly care for it.

  “I want you to be happy, Sheila.” Her mom’s voice softened. “You need to call more often. We miss you.”

  “I miss you more.”

  After hearing about her father’s new car, her mother’s bridge-game gossip and more about her sister’s third pregnancy, she poured herself a glass of wine and eased into a bubble bath. She closed her eyes and Brady Sawyer immediately came to mind.

  “Dammit!” She sat up so quickly she knocked her wine into the tub. “That’s lovely.” She’d touched him twice and she couldn’t erase the feeling of his hands in hers. She turned her glass upright and set it on the floor. Grabbing a pumice stone, she ran it over her palms. Why was he haunting her? That was exactly how she felt. Haunted. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And it wasn’t just today. He’d been a daily thought for two and a half months. She constantly told herself she wasn’t attracted to him. She couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t allowed and she chalked it up to curiosity about the man. But if Marissa had detected it so easily, she wondered who else had.

  Brady Sawyer had left the building. With his drive and determination, he’d progress quickly at Dance of Hope and be out of her life for good. Which was for the best. So why did the thought of never seeing him again bother her?

  * * *

  “DON’T WORRY ABOUT the child-support payments. Focus on getting better.” Alice sat on the bed across from Brady in his Dance of Hope cottage while Gunner played with his See & Spell at the table. “You’re an amazing father and I know you want to do everything possible to make sure Gunner is provided for, and I promise you, if things get really bad I’ll let you know. We’re okay. It’s tight, but we’re managing. Your father checks in on us all the time.”

  “You shouldn’t have to manage and my father shouldn’t be the one providing for you.” Brady gripped the arms of his wheelchair. He and Alice had never been a couple. They’d been best friends since childhood who happened to have spent one lonely night together that resulted in the most precious gift he could have ever received. Unfortunately, they hadn’t any romantic feelings toward each other. So far, they’d successfully raised Gunner together, yet separately. “Why do you do this to me?”