Ride the Sky (Runaway Ranch, #4)

by Ava Hunter

I bristle, hackles rising as Pappy Starr slips into my periphery. Everyone in the room tenses. “How’s our girl?” he drawls. This fucker’s dead. My hands pull to fists, but before I can hit him in the fat fucking face, Dakota rushes him. “This is your fault,” she hisses. Her palm connects with his cheek, a sharp slap that echoes around the waiting room. “Oh no,” Ruby whispers. Another slap. Another. Pappy tries to step back, lifting his hands to shield his face, but Dakota has him cornered against the wall. “You bastard. You promised you’d keep her safe. You promised—” Dakota breaks off, fists falling to her side as she chokes on her sobs. Finally, Davis pulls his wife away. She wilts against him, sobbing uncontrollably. “Go,” Davis orders over the top of his wife’s dark head. “Now.” Face lined with shock, Pappy lowers his hands, adjusts his cuffs. I move toward him. “Get the fuck out of here.” Pappy bristles. “She’s my client. I—” Charlie rises. Then Ford. At that, Pappy swallows. “She’s hurt because of you,” I snarl, shoving his chest. “Save your bullshit apologies before I break your fucking face.”

Reese, in the background, hisses, “Stop it. All of you.” After a second look at all of us, Pappy turns and retreats down the hallway. A throat clears behind us. “Is this a good time?” The doctor. Fuck.

“Yes, hi, I’m sorry,” Dakota says, straightening her dusty blouse and wiping her face. “It’s been a long night.” The doctor, a tall man with glasses and a crew cut, nods. “I understand. It’s a stressful time for everyone right now.” Dakota glances at Davis, who takes her hand. “You have news about my sister?” “I do.” He scans us all. “I’m Dr. Joy.”

“That name better be good fucking omen,” Ford mutters beside me. Dr. Joy looks at Dakota. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Dakota’s mouth presses into a firm line. “No. Tell them what you’d tell me.” Tears in her eyes, she looks up at Davis. “Fallon would want that.” Dr. Joy nods. “Fallon’s out of surgery and stable. We managed to stop the internal bleeding.” Charlie sighs to the ceiling. “Thank Christ.” We listen as the doctor goes over a long list of Fallon’s injuries. Cracked ribs. Bruising. Splenectomy because of a ruptured spleen. Through it all, I feel numb, dead inside. I stare at him, my eyes starting to burn again. “What about her leg?” I rasp. “Well, as you know, she broke her femur. That’s the largest bone in the body, and it’s a significant break. We repaired it by inserting a long metal rod through the middle of the bone, otherwise what is known as a surgical fixation.”

“Will she walk again?” “She will.” Sighs of relief around the waiting room. “But…” “But what?” Dakota asks. Dr. Joy shakes his head. “She will walk with assistance. But she won’t ride.”

Oh no!!

“But you don’t understand.” Dakota looks as terrified as I feel. “Fallon has to ride. She has to.” “She’s lucky to be alive,” Dr. Joy says. “It’s a miracle she survived this.” “Oh my god,” Dakota gasps, turning her face into Davis’s chest. “This will kill her.” Davis looks calm, but the strain on his face tells a different story. “Goddamn,” Ford groans, tucking Reese closer to him. “What a mess.”

“She’s out of surgery and recovering in her room. You can see her now.” It’s the selfish asshole, the Fallon-addicted part of me that blurts, “I need to see her.” “I’m sorry, sir. Visiting hours are family only.” My hands pull to fists. “Fuck your visiting hours.” “Shit,” Charlie curses.

“Wyatt.” Davis tries to grab me, but I duck under the barricade that is his arm and past the doctor. “Sir, you need to sit down. Family only.” The doctor snares my arm, stopping me. I whirl around like a goddamn psycho and growl. Bad fucking mistake. “She is family,” I snarl and give the doctor a hard shove and a glare. “She’s my fucking wife.”

OH SHIT!!!! Is she really!? Is that the secret!?

She snorts. “I’m just a girl, and you worry. Be honest.” “I always worry about you, Fallon.” Ever since she started riding bulls without telling her family or friends, she’s had me in a fucking chokehold. But it’s not because she’s just a girl. It’s because I care about her. Too damn much for my own good. I scoot my stool closer. The heat from her body hits me at the same time as her bourbon and vanilla scent does. “You oughta get some insurance.” “Can’t.” She gulps the rest of her whiskey, lifts her glass to signal for another. “Lovely needs meds, and the purse strings are tight.” That nag’s been on her last legs for too damn long now, but I’d never say that. Not to Fallon. She loves horses more than I do.

“You need to take care of yourself,” I tell her softly. Davis’s words from years ago ring in my head. It’s only a matter of time before she’s hurt. “Yeah. Well.” Her eyes go to that faraway place they’ve been going the last year. “There’s nothing you can do to help me.”

“Let me,” I blurt. That sharp brow of hers arches. “Let you what?” “Help you.” “How?” “Let me marry you.” She physically recoils. “What the fuck, Wyatt?” “For the insurance.” I lean in, sliding a hand up her toned thigh. My heart races. “Listen, Trouble, I don’t want you hurt. Think of Stede. Of Dakota.”

NO WAY!!!!!!!

“Hell, if you had some insurance, at least you’d at least be okay moneywise. A bad injury could knock you out of a run for a season if you can’t pay your bills.” She stiffens. That’s it. What gets her. Rodeo. The love of her fucking life. Her hazel eyes consider me. “For the insurance only?” “Insurance only.” We stare at each other. Finish our drinks at the same time and breathe out the sting. “Marry me,” I repeat. A pink flush stains Fallon’s cheeks. “Yes,” she whispers.

HELL YEA!!!!!!!! I’m obsessed!!

Stunned silence. Big eyes. Everyone’s mouth has dropped to the fucking floor. I’d grin if Davis wasn’t frowning. Footsteps as Dr. Joy walks away. Ford’s the first to speak. “Alright, I’m a little buzzed, but I think I can still break this down.” His finger moves to me then to Fallon’s hospital door. “You and Fallon are married?” “We are.” I exhale, chest tight. “She’s my wife.” I haven’t said that word aloud, but damn if I don’t like the way it sounds.

Fallon will kill me. “Married?” Ruby breathes, her eyes wide. “You ain’t helpin’ me, Fairy Tale,” I tell her. Davis’s lips are flat like he’s going to lose it. It’s the effect I have on my brothers. “When did this happen?” “Vegas. Last year. Right before Reese got to the ranch.” Reese’s hand goes to her mouth. “You married her?” Dakota’s dark eyes burn with betrayal, accusation. Tears. “You married my sister without telling us?” “Why didn’t we know about it?” Charlie demands.

“Look, it just happened.” Davis’s teeth crack together. “Happened. I need you to start talking, Wy. Now.” I tear a hand through my hair, glare at him. “It was for insurance, okay? She was gettin’ hurt too many goddamn times, and I thought…I thought this’d keep her safe.” Dakota stares at me, but she stays quiet. “Goddamn it, Wyatt.” Davis looks like he’s going to bust a gasket. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” I shake my head, my voice deep and low. “Davis, respectfully, you weren’t fuckin’ there.”

“You hid it from us,” Davis growls, stepping toward me. I square up with my big brother, both of us breathing heavily. “Fallon didn’t want to tell anyone. It was her call.” “No one can know,” Fallon says after we exchange vows in a little white chapel off the Strip. She flashes that sharp smile of hers. “It’ll ruin my image.” “Your image?” I deadpan, a little pissed off, though I don’t know why. “Getting married isn’t for a cowboy. And I’m not going the way of Anne Boleyn.” Her lip curls. “Or my mother.” She was adamant we keep it a secret. I respected that. Even if deep down I wanted to scream it to the world.

“What the fuck does it matter anyway?” Davis’s nostrils flare, emotion in his voice. “Matter? Of course, it fucking matters. You two are married.” Through gritted teeth, he says, “She’s like my little sister. I told her father I’d look out for her, and you marry her?”

“Davis, cool it.” Ford’s tone is edged. Guilt ripples through me. Davis is pissed for good reason. We’re cowboys. Loyal. We follow a code. I promised Stede I wouldn’t touch his daughter, and I broke that promise. Jaw clenching tightly, D...

Davis points at me. “I told you if you were lookin’ for a one-night rodeo, don’t do it with Fallon McGraw.” “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” I snap, irritated he thinks I’ve been playing games all this time. What we did, said, in cheap motel rooms mattered more to me than any fucking medal I could get on the rodeo. Her walls came down in those motel rooms. Whatever it was, the whiskey, the weed, Fallon was an open book. She let me see her. Secrets, confessions, scars. And then it was back to hating my guts in the morning. Hell, I know more about Fallon than anyone.

The only thing that’s still a mystery is what I did to make her hate me so damn much. Davis and I stare at each other, gazes clashing. I could say it. Say everything to get my brother off my back. That I love her. That I’m a love-sick bastard for the vicious, terrible, amazing Fallon McGraw. That the last year has been hell on Earth without her. That every part of me belongs to Fallon, and she doesn’t know it.

Tell Fallon then them!

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I knew I loved her. It was like the slow crash of a wave. The erosion of an iron mountain. It just happened. All I know is that when she said yes in Vegas, it felt right. She felt like mine. “Hey, leave him alone,” Charlie growls, causing Davis to take a step back. My eyes soften in thanks. “So, he’s married,” Charlie continues. “Who fucking cares. It’s business. It’s between them.”

Fallon’s the woman I want to kill and fuck on a daily basis. She’s anything but business. “We got bigger things to worry about.” Charlie dips his bearded chin in the direction of Fallon’s hospital room. Everyone sobers. Guilt flickers in the shadows of Davis’s eyes. My jaw locks. I look Davis in the eye. “You done? Good.” Taking a deep breath, I turn on my heel and head straight for that place in my heart that’s always been my light. Fallon.

Slowly, so slowly, I blink open my eyes and look around. An unfamiliar dim space. A figure rises from a chair. Aiden. I squirm, panicked, desperate for an escape. A cool hand on my brow. “Fallon? Can you hear me?” I calm. I know that voice. Deep. Rough. Infuriatingly familiar. “Fallon? Can you wake up for me, baby?” Baby? I moan, uncertain if this is another dream. If I’m in hell and my sole tormentor is Wyatt Montgomery.

“Wyatt?” I rasp. “What happened? Are you hurt?” “No, I’m not hurt.”

“Then who is?” I lift a hand to his face, gesturing at his silver-lined eyes, but he clasps it, stilling me. My brain is foggy, but even I know a cowboy crying when I see one. “Fallon.” He bows his head, grips my fingers with his own calloused fingertips. “You are.” His throat works over the words. “You’re hurt.” “Liar.” I try to remember what happened before this—just before these strange shadows—but can’t. His throat works. “You’re in the hospital.” “What happened?” My words are garbled, thick. His face falls, full of raw emotion. “You don’t remember?” Fear buzzes through my body, but I quip, “I’m asking, aren’t I?” It feels like a thousand years before he says, “You fell off your bull.” “Bullshit.”

“Fallon,” Wyatt says with force. His large hands come out to lean me back against the pillow. I thrash, but I’m weak at the moment, and he’s too strong. “Listen to me. You did.”

His haunted eyes, the look on his face, scare me worse than the night he found me in the cabin at the Edens. Memory zips through me, screaming, tearing down the walls of my brain. The thunder of the arena. The snort of the bull. The dizzying of my mind. That rope, that tether, loose in my hands, and then I— “I fell,” I whisper.

“Wyatt. What’s wrong with my leg?” He swallows, his rugged features cut with worry. Fear. “Wyatt,” I say again. Louder this time. He touches my face. Cups it in those big rough hands. Forces my gaze to his. “Fallon. Baby. Listen to me.” The seriousness of his tone makes my heart speed up. Panic rises in me. I squeeze my eyes shut, shake my head. “No. No. I don’t want to hear it. Unless you have something good to say, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“No, no, no…” I thrash my head, I feel wild, out of control. A heavy pressure rises behind my eyes. I can’t cry, though. Instead I gasp for air, for a way to go back in time, to change everything. “Breathe.” His hands are in mine now, squeezing. “Fucking breathe.” “I can’t,” I gasp. “I can’t.” My hands shoot out and twist in the hem of his white T-shirt. His muscles stiffen, but he grips my shoulders and pulls me into his arms. The weight in my chest vanishes when I’m against his. “I’ve got you, okay?” he says, his voice hoarse and broken. “I’ve got you, and I won’t let go.” Cool lips sweep over my brow. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

“You want water?” “Stop fussing, Koty.” A tremulous smile spreads across Dakota’s face. “I am going to fuss until the cows come home. It’s your punishment for scaring us to death.” My sister, in a seat next to my bed, looks tired and sad, which makes me feel like I’m a harbinger of doom. Hell, maybe I am. Davis paces back and forth in front of the door, arms crossed. A bossy bodyguard until the end. And Wyatt—he looks exhausted, leaning back against the window. He hasn’t left the room, my side, since he arrived. Probably because he’s waiting to say I told you so.

“But the worst of it is your leg,” Dr. Joy says. “You landed hard, awkward, and the femur snapped. We performed a femur fracture open reduction and internal fixation.”

My eyes drift to the bandage on my leg. “Which means?” “Which means no cast. Which means we’ll get you up and walking by tomorrow.” Davis runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “That soon?” Dr. Joy nods. “These days, moving as soon as possible is crucial. Once you master your walker and pain levels, we’ll send you home. However, you’ll need extensive physical and occupational therapy. Help with the normal activities of daily living. Someone needs to be there to monitor your medication and any post-surgery complications.” “She’ll have all the help she needs,” Dakota says. “You’ll need to use a walker and attend outpatient PT for about twelve weeks,” the doctor advises. “We want that fracture to heal properly so you don’t need a repeat surgery.”

I steel myself, shaking off my panic. “When can I get back to riding?” Dr. Joy quiets. I don’t miss the way Dakota and Davis’s eyes lock. I suck in air through my teeth. “Someone tell me what’s going on.” “You misunderstand, Fallon.” Dr. Joy sounds apologetic. “I’ll be blunt. Because of the way the femur fracture affects your hip joint, you likely won’t be able to ride at all.” What? I turn to Wyatt with wide eyes, but he’s already looking at me. I can’t breathe. “Can’t ride bulls, right?” “Can’t ride anything. Bulls, horses. Ever.”

🥺

I let out a low laugh. “I’m gonna ride again.” A sob erupts from Dakota. “It’s the pain meds talking,” Davis says, resting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “No, it’s not the pain meds.” My voice trembles even as I will it to be steel. I look up at Wyatt and his clenched jaw. “Tell them. Tell them, Wyatt.”

Wyatt’s pause is long, then he says, his words like hope filling me up, “You’ll ride again.”

“Wyatt,” Dakota says sharply as she takes my other hand. I watch them glare at each other, a strange development, since they usually get along. She looks at me. “That fact that you’re alive is a miracle, Fallon. Let’s try to keep the recklessness to a minimum the next few weeks, okay?”

Petulance and pity take over. “I shouldn’t have fallen. Nothing makes sense. I know how to ride a fucking bull.” Dr. Joy looks down at me. “The symptoms you describe just before your fall—dizziness, blurred vision—you had a migraine.” Davis pushes off the wall, crossing his arms. “It was too soon for you to ride.” I glare at him and his asshole words. “I already hate almost all men. Don’t make me add you to the list, Davis.” “For fuck’s sake,” Wyatt snarls. “You ain’t helpin’, D.” “I’ve been fine at El Toro,” I insist to the entire room. “I haven’t had a migraine in…in almost a year. My hand wouldn’t just slip on the rope.” Desperately, I look at Wyatt. “You believe me, don’t you? I had that bull.” “Yeah.” His eyes are sad. “I believe you.” I sit there, gasping for air, thinking it can’t get worse, when Dr. Joy looks at Wyatt. “I’ll let you and your wife talk.”

I wait for the doctor to exit, and then I turn to Wyatt and glare. “Wife?” Wyatt runs his free hand through his hair then down his jaw. “I told them,” he says. He doesn’t look apologetic, the bastard. Dakota’s lips thin. “I’m upset you didn’t tell anyone, but considering the circumstances, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.”

I push myself up, wanting to say something to intercept their pissy macho stare-down. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, it was a mistake.” Wyatt flinches. Dakota arches a brow. “I am curious. What did you plan to do? Go your entire life without anyone knowing?” “No one needed to know.” I look up at Wyatt, at the way he has my hand cradled to his chest. “I figured we’d just play along until one of us wanted a divorce.”

Davis snorts softly. “What about your father?” “What about him?” I ask casually, even as regret curdles my stomach. Because Stede, a by-the-book, old school cowboy, will be furious. “That’s enough,” Wyatt barks at Davis. “She doesn’t need this right now.” At the hard, protective tone in his voice, warmth spreads through me. A knock rattles the hospital room door. “Hey,” Reese says, her eyes filling the instant she sees me. “Can we say hi?” Wyatt looks unhappy, but he nods and lets loose of my hand.

“We were so worried,” Ruby whispers, setting no less than four bouquets of flowers on the windowsill. Charlie leans down to kiss my brow. “Sure gave us a scare,” he gruffs. Ford squeezes my hand. “Gotta throw a couple prayers up to the man upstairs, cowgirl.”

Eyes bright with tears, Reese asks, “How do you feel?” I shift, mustering a smile. “Like my spinal cord’s draining out of my asshole.” Boots scuff over the tile. My stomach turns over when I see Vic. I raise a brow at his approach. “Come to gloat?” “Nah.” He offers a tight smile. “You rode it to the end. I respect that.”

“You hurtin’?” Wyatt’s deep drawl in my ear. I grit my teeth and give a curt nod. I’ve been through a lot of painful things. Anesthesia wearing off too soon, losing fingernails in accidents, broken bones. But the pain radiating through my leg and hip is the only one that makes me feel like my soul is leaving my body. “She’s tired. Everyone out,” Wyatt orders, and I feel warmth on my brow before the world goes dark again.

I roll my head across the pillow. “I thought you said everyone out.” “Yeah, well…” A muscle works in that sharp jaw as he rises to stand. “I’m not everyone.” A scoff pops out of my mouth. “Husband privileges?” Husband. The word is as annoying as Wyatt. He smiles and turns on the bedside lamp. “Something like that.” “Think we pissed off our entire family.” “They’ll get over it. I’m not worried about them.”

“Do you need anything?” Wyatt asks. “Water? Food?” Emotions rising in my chest, I turn my face away, breaking our connection. “You’re being too nice to me. Like one of your hurt horses.” He pauses. “How do you want me to be?” “Mean. How we used to be. Honest.” “I’m always honest with you, Fallon.” “Then how’d I look? Up there on that bull?”

“Fine. Fuck. Don’t tell me.” I grit my teeth in frustration and cover my face in the crook of my elbow.

“You stayed on that bull for seven seconds.” Wyatt’s soft, soothing drawl rolls through me better than any pain pill. “Nobody could believe it. They couldn’t breathe. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. You were the wind. You rode the fucking sky.” I lower my arm to look at him. “I did?” He smiles. “Yeah, Trouble. You did.”

TITLE!!!!!

She licks her lips. “Wyatt?” “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” I smooth her hair back as she leans her face into my palm. “You were shoutin’ and hollerin’.” She smirks. “Probably yelling at you.” I grin. “You were dreaming.” “Not dreaming.” Her face clouds. “A nightmare. Aiden.” I flinch. Thinking of Fallon with that motherfucker will never not sting.

“When did those start?” “Ever…” Her throat works. “Ever since the Edens. He’s always there, waiting. Sometimes he hurts me. Sometimes Dakota. I always fight…but…” I wonder if she realizes it or not, but her hand’s gone to her stomach, rubbing at where she was stabbed. Exhaling, she squares her shoulders, shakes her head. “I can’t escape that night. It’s always in me. And I fucking hate it.”