Something Reckless (Dirty Southern Secrets Book 3)

by J. L. Leslie

  He uses the tip of his pen to rake over my toes, soles of my feet, and different areas of my legs. Occasionally, I can feel a sensation, and other times, nothing.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It’s not full paralysis, but rather paresis. This means you have some feeling and sensation in your muscles.”

  Frustrated, I ask again. “What does that mean, doc?”

  “As of right now, you are basically paralyzed. You won’t be able to walk, much less get on the back of a bull, but I’m confident full sensation and use of your legs will return with time. I do not, however, make any guarantees.”

  “How much time? How long before I can walk again?”

  “There’s no way to know for sure. Your body requires time to heal, and it doesn’t give us a time frame. You’re lucky these are the extent of your injuries, Mr. Holt. We’ll keep you under observation a couple more hours and then get you moved to a room soon. Your sponsor is already hounding my staff, so I’ll get my report over to them and see about getting you to a room.”

  “Thank you. You can send my family in now.”

  He nods and slips out, giving me only a few moments of silence to let his words sink in. He’s confident the paralysis is only temporary, but what if it isn’t? What if I’m bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life?

  62

  Brynn

  I’m pretty sure the only reason all four of us are allowed inside ICU to visit with Kipton is because Willow has charmed the staff. She caught their attention dancing to music from her iPad and singing the “Happy Birthday” song. Plus, it’s late by the time Kipton woke up from surgery and there’s really no one else waiting.

  “We were so worried, baby!” Angie says, rushing to his bedside.

  His eyes are fixated on me as she hugs him, a defeated look on his face. Despite the dark circles and bruises, he’s as handsome as ever.

  I let go of Willow’s hand, and she walks over, pointing up to Kipton. “Boo-boo?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, sweet girl, Kip’s got a boo-boo.”

  “I kiss it,” she offers, and I smile.

  Neil picks her up and leans her over the bed, and my baby girl kisses Kipton’s bruised temple, causing tears to form in his eyes, before coming to sit with me.

  “Has the doctor been in?” Angie asks. “The nurse said he would come speak to us, but we haven’t seen him. I bet that Laura knows everything already.”

  “He came,” Kipton replies, again, his eyes finding me.

  “Well, what did he say? We’ve been worried sick.”

  “He removed my spleen and stopped some internal bleeding,” Kipton explains. “I have an injury to my spinal cord that’s caused paralysis that he thinks should be temporary.”

  Angie and Neil both nod their heads, taking in his words. Paralysis. Kipton could be paralyzed. I instantly remind myself he said temporary.

  “Everything will be fine, baby,” Angie assures him. “God will take care of you.”

  “I know, Mama.”

  He doesn’t sound so sure, though. He sounds like he’s given up before the fight has even started. That isn’t the Kipton I know.

  “Angie, Neil, do you mind taking Willow down to get a snack? I want to talk to Kipton a minute.”

  “Snack?” Willow asks excitedly.

  Neil picks her up, and Angie glares at me as the three of them walk out of the room. I approach Kipton and sit on the edge of his bed, reaching over to touch his face. It hurts when he turns away.

  “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

  “I heard everything you said. No spleen. Internal bleeding stopped. Temporary paralysis.”

  “Yeah? What if it isn’t temporary, Brynn? You think I would put you through that?”

  “You don’t get to do that,” I say. “You do not get to make assumptions about what I can or cannot handle. You do not get to give up.”

  “I will not put this on you,” he states adamantly.

  “I will not let you take it on alone.”

  His jaw clenches, and I lean over and kiss his cheek, hovering and holding my breath in prayer that he’ll turn and kiss me. That he won’t shut me out.

  I swear it takes him the length of a successful bull ride, a full eight seconds, before he captures my lips. There’s my cowboy.

  63

  Kipton

  I’m stirred awake by a nurse coming into my room. The sun is shining through my window, so I know it’s morning, and when I glance up at the clock on the wall, I squint and see that it’s half-past nine. Any other morning, I wouldn’t have slept this late. I suppose when your legs don’t work, you have no need to get up and hit the gym.

  “Morning, Mr. Holt,” she greets me. “My name is Giada. I’m a physical therapist, and I’m here for your physical therapy. We’re going to see if we can get those muscles firing.”

  I give her a nod and make a move to get off the bed, nearly falling flat on my fucking face. Luckily, she’s there to keep that from happening, steadying me by placing her hands at my shoulders and pushing me back.

  “We’re going to take this slow. I know you’re a rough and tumble cowboy, but I’ll be doing most of the work to start with. Try to remember you’re still recovering from surgery.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She uncovers my legs, and without blushing, pulls my hospital gown down to cover my exposed muscular thighs. I make a mental note to ask Mama to send me some joggers and jersey shorts.

  “Sorry,” I mumble an apology.

  “Nothing I haven’t seen, Mr. Holt,” she replies, and I assume she’s referring to the fact that she works at a hospital. Then, she adds, “You did do an underwear ad.”

  Despite her comment, she isn’t being flirty. I think she’s simply trying to make me feel comfortable. She takes off the fuzzy socks I didn’t even realize I was wearing and places them at the foot of the bed. She massages my feet, working my toes and soles. I stare at her hands, willing more than a tingling sensation to come, but nothing happens.

  My feet are generally pretty ticklish, a fact my brothers harp on me about, so this would typically be excruciating. Now, it only feels like air is being blown on them, if even that.

  She moves her way up, massaging my ankles and calves. Some areas have more sensation than others, just as when the doctor was here yesterday. She goes all the way up my thighs and stops.

  “Now that we have some blood flowing, I want you to try to wiggle your toes. If it doesn’t happen, that’s okay. Just concentrate on that simple movement.”

  I do as she says, glaring down at my toes and telling them to move. I almost give the command out loud, but the fuckers stay still.

  “No worries. I’m going to lower your bed down and move your legs to the side into a seated position. Don’t worry; I won’t let you fall off the bed.”

  She presses her foot to the control on the floor, and the bed lowers. She instructs me to wrap one arm around her shoulders and to hold on while she places her arms beneath my knees. Although she’s tall for a woman, she’s still small, but she lifts my legs and swivels my body to the side of the bed without much effort. Knowing my legs are dangling but not feeling them is strange. I swallow at the uneasy feeling.

  Still holding me, she reaches back and pulls up a chair. The exercises we do are simple. I sit with one leg crossed and use my hand to rotate my ankle and move my toes before switching legs. She makes me move my own legs.

  Then, she stands from the stool and assists me in raising one leg at a time to rest on the stool. She calls these seated hamstring stretches. It feels like I’m stretching nothing. Doing nothing. She assures me these simple exercises matter.

  When I’m done with those, she helps me back into the bed like I’m a fucking invalid. I suppose I am. I went from being one of the highest-ranking bull riders in the world. An athlete. Untouchable.

  To a poor excuse for a man.

  64

  Brynn

  I hold Willow’s ha
nd, and she carries her Happy Meal in the other as we walk through the hospital toward Kipton’s room. He texted me late last night to let me know he was being moved to a private room.

  Before heading over, I stopped in to see Angie and Neil. They packed all of Kipton’s things from his hotel and were getting ready to go back to Chapelwood. If I know Angie, she’ll be camped out in that hospital until Kipton is discharged. I wish I could do the same, but Willow and I have to get back home.

  I reach his door and knock lightly before pushing it open. Kipton is sprawled across the side of the bed, his face blood-red from exertion as he strains to lift himself back up. I quickly put the food on the bedside tray and rush around to help him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I yell, lifting one leg and then the other until he rolls onto the bed.

  He huffs as I help him shift into position onto his back, snatching away from me and shoving the bedside tray across the room. The Styrofoam cupholder with our drinks tips and the cups fall to the floor, spilling a mixture of Coca-Cola and Sprite.

  Willow gasps, looking down at her drink. “That ugly, Kip!”

  He groans and runs a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry, Willow.”

  I go to the bathroom and get some paper towels, and when I come out, a nurse is in the room. She no doubt heard the commotion and came to see what was going on.

  “I’ll get someone here to clean that up,” she says and winks at Willow. “And I’ll get you another drink.”

  “Tell me what you were thinking,” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He glances over at Willow. “Not right now.”

  I sigh, lowering my arms, and then I notice his side. “Kipton, you’re bleeding.”

  Blood is soaking through his hospital gown and is on his bedsheets. He looks down, and I see his jaw clench before his head falls back on the bed, defeated.

  “Probably pulled my stitches.”

  “Willow stay here with Kip while I go get his nurse,” I instruct, and she nods, munching on a French fry.

  I close the door behind me, making sure it clicks so that Willow can’t get out, and walk down to the nurses’ station. I tell them what’s happened, leaving out that he tried to get out of bed in case he doesn’t want them to know that, and go back to the room. It won’t be difficult for them to figure that out anyway.

  Willow has moved on to her nuggets, eating the edges and tossing the middle back into the box. Kipton lies there; his head turned toward the window.

  “I brought you some food in case you didn’t want hospital food.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You might want it later,” I offer.

  “I won’t.”

  I stand there a moment, looking around his room. His curtains are drawn shut, no light coming in. There are pamphlets for support groups tossed in his trash. He no doubt sent that therapist away with his poor attitude. I walk around his bed and stand near him, his stubborn gaze still focused at the muted television.

  “Will you look at me?”

  He does, and I thought I’d seen him in pain before when I walked away from him. Thought I’d seen him at his worse. That look was nothing compared to this one. This man doesn’t have any fight in him. This man is defeated. This man is lost.

  “I love you.”

  The nurse walks in with supplies to check his stitches and clean him up. I look at him expectantly, hopefully.

  He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t say those three words back to me. Refuses to acknowledge I said them to him.

  Damn it.

  65

  Kipton

  I should have said it back. Should have affirmed my feelings for her. But that would really make me a poor excuse of a man if I added my problems on her shoulders. She already has a special needs child to take care of. She doesn’t need a crippled man in her life.

  Still, when she left, she said those words again. She hugged me and pressed her lips to mine, and my mouth returned her kiss of its own free will.

  I held Willow in my arms and told her to be good for her mama and at school as though she were my own daughter. I missed them the moment they walked out the door.

  I only get an hour of silence before my parents come in. They’re getting ready to travel back to Chapelwood and wanted to check in before leaving.

  “I’ll be back tonight,” Mama assures me. “I’ll get your things packed and bring whatever you need. I have the hotel booked indefinitely.”

  “Mama, you don’t have to stay.” She gives me a look that it’s not up for discussion. “I’ll probably be discharged soon.”

  The doctor hasn’t mentioned anything regarding my discharge or when that might happen. I assume it’ll be once I’m deemed safe to travel after recovering from surgery. People go home with paralysis all the time, right?

  “Why would you think that?” Mama asks. “The doctor said you have a spinal cord injury. You could be here for weeks.”

  I frown. I’ll go fucking stir crazy in this hospital if I stay here that long. “I don’t know. I hoped to be out sooner.”

  “Son, we know you want to be out sooner,” Daddy says. “Do the therapy. Follow the doctor’s orders. Everything will work out as it should.”

  “Where did you get McDonald’s?” Mama questions, spotting the fast food bag.

  “Brynn stopped by with Willow on their way out.”

  Mama crosses her arms over her chest. “Now, Angie,” Daddy scolds, but it doesn’t stop my mama from speaking her mind.

  “I don’t approve of the two of you. It ain’t right her being with your brother, being his wife, and now fooling around with you. It just ain’t right, Kipton.”

  “Mama ‒”

  “Who’s to say she won’t do the same thing to you that she did to him? Huh? She’s not the type of woman to stick around.”

  “She’s changed.”

  “She couldn’t handle Willow having Down Syndrome. Let Kaler take care of her the really hard years. You really think she can handle this if you…” her voice trails when she realizes what she was about to say.

  “Go ahead and say it, Mama!” I say, slightly raising my voice. “If I never walk again!”

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “I pray that isn’t God’s plan for you.”

  “Fuck my life if it is.” I let out a laugh. “Guess God isn’t a fan of bull riders, and it’s finally caught up with me. Or maybe he’s not a fan of men who fuck their brother’s ex-wives.”

  “Kipton!” Daddy admonishes. “Good grief, son.”

  Laura chooses that moment to peek her head inside the door. She gives me a tight smile and apologizes for interrupting.

  “Your timing is perfect, actually. Come on in.”

  She speaks to my parents, telling them it’s good to see them again. Once the pleasantries are over, she gets right to the point.

  “Wrangler is giving you twelve weeks to recover and begin competing again.”

  “Twelve weeks? Fuck.”

  “That’s not possible,” Mama speaks up. “Are you aware of the extent of his injuries?”

  Laura nods. “We are actually. As his sponsor, we’re privy to his medical records when his injuries are related to the rodeo. I pushed for more recovery time, but twelve weeks is standard medical leave time for most jobs, so they’re following the norm. We’ll re-evaluate every four weeks to see how you’re progressing.”

  “Thanks,” I reply dryly.

  “I have confidence in you, Kipton.”

  Confidence doesn’t make your legs work. I had confidence when I moved my legs to the side of the bed and pushed off. I had confidence when I told myself they would work because I wanted them to. I had confidence…until I fell to the damn floor.

  Fuck confidence. I need a miracle.

  66

  Brynn

  I knew when he didn’t say the words back to me that in his own way, he was protecting me, much the same way I thought I was protecting him. He’s
afraid he’ll never walk again, never be the same Kipton again, and he doesn’t want to put me through that.

  But I didn’t expect him to ignore my calls for two weeks. Didn’t expect not to hear his voice. Not to even get a text.

  Life has gone back to normal, or as normal as it can possibly get. I covered the story of his injury for the paper, releasing minimal details about his paralysis so that the town won’t go too crazy.

  I’ve been to my yoga class and enjoyed dinner at Sally Sue’s with Shannon and the girls afterward. They were all concerned about Kipton.

  Kaler and Jenna returned from their honeymoon, happy as ever. I’ve postponed having a conversation with them about my relationship with Kipton because I have no idea if I’m still in a relationship with Kipton. I don’t know what we are right now.

  Everything is back to normal. Only nothing is normal. I miss Kipton, and I’m in limbo wondering what the hell is going on between us. Wondering how his recovery is coming along. Wondering what kind of life we’re going to have together. If we’re going to have a life together.

  Angie is still in Georgia with Kipton, and I don’t dare call her. Besides, I don’t want her to know he isn’t speaking to me. She might be happy about that. Neil is back in Chapelwood running his shop with Kaler, and since I haven’t talk with Kaler, I don’t want to call him either.

  I could ask Tauren, but knowing him, he’d only give Kipton hell for not speaking to me, and he has enough on his plate. Since he and Helene lost their first child, they’re ecstatic to be pregnant again but also worried about another miscarriage. The last thing they need is to deal with my problems, and the last thing Kipton needs is for his brother to be annoyed with him.