“Worst Monday ever.” Dax sighed, hugging me with one arm. I nodded.
“Can’t argue that one,” Wyatt agreed, blinking as the medic used a flashlight on his eyes.
“I think it’s safe to say you’ll be excused from school today,” the fireman teased, standing upright. “Well, hell, Wyatt, you got a bump on your head and, from what I hear, sounds like you need a chest x-ray—make sure you didn’t damage your lungs. You went in there, didn’t you?” He nodded in the direction of the barn…what had been the barn.
“Had to make sure he wasn’t here,” Wyatt answered.
He? Of course. His father…I froze.
I hadn’t thought of him. It wasn’t just the horses…of course it wasn’t. I hadn’t given a second’s thought to Travis Holcomb because he was an ass who didn’t deserve his son. The son who’d braved fire to make sure his dad was safe. I glanced at my father, swallowing back raw emotion, and moved closer to Wyatt. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him as close as I could. He turned into my chest, drawing in a deep, slow breath. His hold was fierce, easing after a few seconds.
My question was soft. “He wasn’t in there?”
“No,” he answered. “He wasn’t.”
I blew out a slow breath. “You hit your head?”
“I’m fine.” He sat back, his hand gripping mine as I stepped out of his embrace. “Dirty, but fine.”
I looked at Dad. Help me, I pleaded silently.
Dad looked at me, nodding once. “Wyatt, I know you’re not a fan of hospitals and I can’t make you go. But you should get your lungs checked out.” It was hard to miss the meaningful look he shot me.
Wyatt didn’t miss it. He sighed and nodded. I squeezed his hand.
“Oh, he’s going,” the medic said. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like he had a choice. Concussion and smoke inhalation means monitoring him. And you’re riding with us.”
Wyatt arched a brow. “I don’t need—”
“Boy, don’t be stupid.” The medic put both hands on his hips as he spoke. He looked at me, then stood as straight and tall as his five-foot-two frame would let him. “You want to start coughing up a lung in front of her? Or pass out? Get your ass in the ambulance and close your mouth.”
I blinked.
“George Montgomery.” The medic shook hands with my father. “My wife and Wyatt’s momma, Joanna, were good friends.”
Joanna. Joanna Holcomb. It was a good name.
“Come on now,” Mr. Montgomery nudged Wyatt. He sighed when he saw how tightly our hands were linked. “She can come too.”
I glanced at my father.
“Go with him, Allie.” Dad helped me into the back of the ambulance. “Where are the horses? June and I will come back with the trailer from the clinic for them.”
“In the south pasture.” Wyatt’s voice was hoarse. He coughed. “They’ll probably be a bit jumpy. Might call Hank, see if he can lend a hand.”
“Don’t worry.” Dad’s voice was low and calming. “We’ll be up at the hospital soon.”
“What about me?” I heard Dax ask as the doors closed.
I watched them clip the oxygen thingy on Wyatt’s fingertip. When Mr. Montgomery saw the number, he put an oxygen mask on Wyatt. Mr. Montgomery sat back and I leaned against Wyatt, sliding my arm around his waist and resting my head on his shoulder. Wyatt leaned into me, his cheek pressed against the top of my head.
“Feeling okay? Light-headed?” Mr. Montgomery asked.
“My head hurts, but that’s about it,” Wyatt answered roughly. He coughed again.
Mr. Montgomery asked, “Hard to breathe? Or talk?”
Wyatt shrugged.
“Don’t shrug.” Mr. Montgomery sighed loudly. “Yes or no.”
“No,” Wyatt said firmly, shaking his head.
Mr. Montgomery laughed. “Good.”
By the time we made it to the small hospital, Wyatt was restless. He wanted to take off the oxygen mask. He wanted to walk inside, not sit in the wheelchair. He didn’t see the point of an x-ray or getting any blood work done—he wanted to leave.
George Montgomery was smart. He found an older motherly-type nurse to hand Wyatt over to. Wyatt’s philosophy of respecting his elders ensured he would do exactly as Nurse Lorene asked, even if he wasn’t exactly happy about it.
I paced back and forth in the lobby while he was getting his chest x-rays.
“Anything?” Mom asked when they arrived.
“X-rays,” I answered, relaxing into her embrace.
“Good. Want to be sure his lungs are free and clear.” She used her most doctor-ly voice.
I nodded. “He wants to go home.”
“If his x-rays are clear, we can take care of him at home,” she agreed.
“And if they’re not?” I dared to ask.
She shook her head. “One thing at a time, Allie. Right now, you need to be all smiles and reassurance for him.”
I glanced at her. “I can do that.”
“I know.” She laughed. “I checked on the horses. They’ll be fine. Daisy might have a little bit of a bald spot, but it’s not too bad. Dad and Hank are getting them to the house.”
“Dax?”
“School.”
“Mom…” I couldn’t imagine going to school after this morning.
“He wanted to go, Allie. Your dad and I didn’t make him,” she offered.
I didn’t say anything. Why the hell would Dax want to go to school? Maybe he needed to avoid the drama? God knew we’d had more than our fair share recently. Not like there was much he could do now anyway.
“Could they save anything?” I asked her.
“I don’t know, sweetie.” She led us to some chairs. “Your dad wasn’t optimistic about it. I think they were hoping to contain it more than stop it, since it was such a big fire.”
Which made sense, considering how dry everything was. “Guess it’s a good thing it rained last night.” But it had rained last night and it hadn’t stopped the fire from taking Wyatt’s home.
Wyatt and a doctor walked into the lobby. His face was clean, a white bandage taped over his temple. With his almost healed multi-colored eye, he looked more like a bad boy than the cowboy he was. When he smiled at me, reached out for me, I was there, grasping his hand in both of mine. Apparently that wasn’t good enough for him, because he pulled me in to his side.
The doctor smiled at me, then my mother. “Mrs. Cooper?”
“Dr. Cooper,” Wyatt corrected.
“Ah, yes.” The doctor nodded. “Sorry about that.”
My mother smiled and shook her head. “No, no problem. So what’s the news?”
“Wyatt’s lungs look good. I’ve told him to take it easy for the next couple of days—which I know won’t be easy for him.”
I laughed, the worry I’d been holding at bay easing a little. I’d sit on him if I had to. I smiled up at him, studying his face. His arms tightened around me and I loved it. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.
“He’s going to be short of breath, especially if he pushes too hard too fast. He has an inhaler, in case he needs it. He does have a concussion, so he needs to be watched for the day. Ice every twenty to thirty minutes every couple of hours until he goes to bed tonight.”
“Anything else?” my mother asked.
“I’ve patched this boy up a time or two. He’s a tough one.” The doctor clapped Wyatt on the shoulder and added, “But some pain reliever might be in order.”
Wyatt caught me staring up at him, his slow, easy smile chasing the last of my fears. I stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” I said, meaning it.
“I love you, Allie.” His eyes swept over my face slowly.
“Well…on that note,” my mother interrupted, “let’s get you home.”
The doctor grinned. “Here’s my number—in case something comes up.”
Wyatt held the door open for me and Mom as we left, which made me laugh. “W
hat?” he asked as we walked out into the sweltering heat.
“You. Ever the gentleman.”
“That’s a bad thing?” he said, capturing my hand in his.
“Nope.” I squeezed his hand. “Ironic, considering you’re the one that’s bruised and battered.” My gaze wandered to the stark white bandage against his forehead.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked, opening the car door.
I pushed Wyatt to the front passenger door, but he shook his head and climbed into the back seat with me. I saw my mom smile in the rearview mirror.
“Honestly?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” She backed up and pulled out of the parking lot. “Please.”
He rested his head back. “I’m hungry.”
She laughed, and so did I.
I twined his fingers through mine. “You did sort of miss breakfast.”
“Let’s get you something to eat,” Mom agreed.
We drove on in silence. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at him, watching him…
“Horses okay?” he suddenly asked, his forehead creasing.
“Fine. You don’t need to worry, I promise, Wyatt. We took care of them,” Mom assured him. “Pickett’s going to be very happy to see you. Davis said he’s looking for you everywhere.”
“Poor Pickett.” I saw him relax. “I couldn’t do much for the horses, just penned them so they wouldn’t run off. Animals are smart—have a strong sense of self-preservation.”
Mom nodded. “That they do.”
We pulled into the parking lot at Peggy’s. Mom left the car running and went inside, leaving us—finally—alone.
He turned, instantly pulling me closer to him. “I’m sorry.” His head rested on my shoulder, his nose brushing against my throat.
My arms wrapped around him. “For what? For worrying about your family?” I ran my hand over his head. “I’m just sorry I…I freaked the way I did.”
He looked at me, his hands resting on either side of my face. Something in his expression made me pause.
“Talk to me,” I whispered. “Please.”
His eyes bore into mine.
“You’ll feel better once you tell me.”
His voice was low, gruff. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Try me.”
His eyes searched mine for a minute. “My dad started the fire.”
Speechless.
“The hay. The house.” He shook his head, his hands slipping from my face.
“You…are you sure?” I asked.
“No. Yes.” He paused. “The barn was mine. I kept it up.”
I nodded. I remembered.
“A can of kerosene was missing.” He ran a hand over his face.
“You think…”
“He doused the hay with it. He had to, with all the rain.” His anguish almost made me lose it. I hurt, ached, for him. He was only eighteen, too young to be dealing with the piles of crap he kept getting.
“But your dad?” I couldn’t believe it. Maybe I just didn’t want to.
“He had the only other key to the barn.”
My heart twisted. “What are you going to do?”
He looked at me. “I don’t know if I can do anything. He’s my dad.”
I nodded, reining in the anger that washed over me. Travis Holcomb might be Wyatt’s father, but he’d endangered his son. Or had he? Had he known Wyatt wasn’t there? I almost didn’t ask, fearing the answer. “Did he…did he know you were staying with us?”
Wyatt’s eyes shut and I had my answer.
I rested my head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
His arm captured me, his hand rubbing up and down my back. “I know.”
“I love you. I haven’t said it in five minutes so I thought I’d remind you.” It was a lame attempt at humor, but I didn’t know what else to do.
Mom hurried out of Peggy’s, a brown paper bag in her hand. “I think I could have cooked your burgers on the concrete,” she said as she climbed into the car. She glanced into the backseat. “Wyatt, honey, you can’t sleep for a while. Let’s get you home, get some food in your stomach and some ice on that knot. Then we’ll decide what’s next.”
I squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze my way. “Sounds like a good plan,” I murmured.
He nodded, but turned to look out the window as we headed out of town.
19 CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wyatt read for the rest of the day. From what I could tell, he stared at the same four pages over and over again. I knew he had a lot to think about, so I didn’t push him. I did drop an occasional kiss on his temple, stroke his arm, or cuddle him whenever I had the chance. Pickett was glued to his side, following him from the couch to the bathroom and back again.
“Sit on the front porch with me?” I asked when he set the book down. He nodded.
“Take this.” Mom handed Wyatt a bag of ice wrapped in a clean dishtowel and waved us outside.
Wyatt sat and I held the ice on his head while he leaned against me. The sun started to drop and a cool evening breeze blew in. If I hadn’t known Wyatt was dealing with such a horrible life-changing debacle, I might have been blissfully happy. I wanted to do something—anything—to make this better. I just didn’t know what to do. I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Need anything?” I asked.
“I’m good.” His voice was soft.
“Are you?” I leaned back, looking at him—our gazes locking. “Honest?”
His smile was a little sad. “Right now? I’m great.”
I smiled back, happiness bubbling up. “Even bruised and sore and exhausted?”
“Even so.” His eyes searched mine. “You’re here.”
I swallowed. “Wyatt,” I whispered, “I want to tell you something.”
He tilted his head, tensing a little. I didn’t like the way his jaw locked, like he was preparing himself for bad news. “Tell me.”
I trailed my finger along his jaw. “Coming here—to Black Falls, I mean—was hard. It wasn’t what I wanted. But now I see that the move…everything…brought me to you. Or brought you to me.” I felt a little flustered by the sudden intensity on his face. “It’s just…” His fingers threaded through mine, giving me the courage to go on. “I might not deserve you, but I’m so glad you’re mine.” Mine? Way to freak him out. “I mean—”
“You had it right, Allie.” He swallowed, his fingers brushing along my cheek. “Yours.”
I leaned into his touch, soaking up his warmth.
We were a little too caught up in each other to notice the trucks headed up the drive. But then Dad came out on the front porch, effectively severing the building awareness crackling between the two of us.
“Guess school’s out.” Dad wiped his sweat-drenched forehead with a blue bandana. He’d been working on the barn since we got back from the hospital. Once he’d checked on Wyatt and eaten some lunch, he’d been back at it.
Levi was the first one out, running up the steps two at a time. “You look like sh—” He eyed my father. “Er…rough around the edges.”
My father shook his head and walked back inside.
“Are you seriously here to pick on him?” I asked testily.
“Hell no, Miss Allie. We’re here to finish that damn barn.”
I saw the torn expression on Wyatt’s face, how fidgety he became as more trucks arrived. I knew some of the people, and some I didn’t. A Furman’s Hardware truck pulled in, loaded down with lumber, metal roofing, and bags of other equipment. Levi winked and ran out to meet the truck, calling over some of the boys to help him unload.
“Wyatt,” I murmured, feeling him tense to stand, “sit still.” He looked so frustrated. “They want to do this for you. Let them.”
Dax’s truck pulled in, parking closest to the house. He winked in our direction and headed straight to the barn. Hank and Molly and some guy I didn’t know drove up next, pulling a beaten-up horse trailer. I tried not to shoot Molly the evil eye as she walked up the steps of the p
orch.
“Hey.” She smiled at Wyatt, barely glancing my way. “Hank and Cannon pulled some gear together. More’s coming,” she offered, glancing at me again. “Might take a few days, but I’m guessing you’re not supposed to be doing much until then anyway.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Y’all don’t need to do this.”
Molly shrugged. “Well, it’s done.” She glanced at me—nervous. “I’m not much use with a hammer. Anything I can help your mom with?” She tried to smile but her eyes shifted from mine, rather guiltily I thought.
“I don’t know,” I said, wishing I could like her. I wanted to, I really did. But you messed with my brother, so you messed with me.
Speaking of Dax… My poor brother was frozen at the bottom of the steps, his gaze pinned on Molly. He recovered pretty quickly, hopping up the steps. “How’s it going?” he asked Wyatt. “Allie bossing you around yet?”
The look on Molly’s face threw me. If she was with this Cannon guy, why was she looking at Dax like he was the most amazing person she’d ever seen?
Wyatt’s arms slipped around me, pulling me close. “I don’t think I’d mind if she did.”
I smiled up at him. “You say that now.”
He laughed. Dax did too, but it sounded forced.
“Gonna go check in with Mom,” Dax murmured.
“I’ll go with you.” Molly sounded breathless. “See if I can help out.”
I saw my brother’s face, saw the hurt, and wanted to tell Molly to get the hell off my porch. But Wyatt’s hold tightened on my hand. Looking at him I knew what he was trying to tell me. They need to work this out. I sighed and nodded.
Dax and Molly disappeared into the house, and I forced myself to relax. “Sorry,” I murmured.
“Don’t be. He’s your brother.”
I nodded. “And he’s never been in love before.”
“I know how he feels.” Wyatt’s hand slipped beneath my hair, his fingers slipping through my hair.
A new, wonderful warmth ran from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Who knew you could actually feel this way? How did I get so lucky? “But you’ve got me.” I rested my head on his shoulder, savoring this strange bond we now—irrevocably, I knew—shared.
Cowboys & Kisses Page 25
