“Not just bruised,” she gritted. “Broken bones everywhere.”
“They’ll mend. I’ll be good as new in just a couple weeks.”
She stared at him, stunned by his casual dismissal of what had happened in the ring yesterday. “What you do for a living… it’s insane. You have to be insane to think it’s okay.”
“I don’t get hurt often.”
“That doesn’t justify the danger.”
“There’s danger everywhere. The world is filled with risk—”
“But why invite risk in? Why say, hey risk, come sit at my table?” Her gaze searched his. He didn’t seem troubled. Or worried. “Billy, Beck doesn’t need you in a wheelchair, or worse.”
“I have no intention of being in a wheelchair. Or worse. So please don’t put that out there. I don’t need the negativity.”
The negativity.
As if his life depended on sage and crystals.
She ground her jaw together, molars gritted tight. He either didn’t understand his value or didn’t care. But the world wouldn’t be the same without him. Not for Beck.
And not for her.
*
The nurse entered the room to take his vitals and change his urine bag and Erika took advantage of the interruption to make her escape.
“You have a very pretty girlfriend,” the nurse said, smiling, as she checked Billy’s pulse.
Billy was about to reply that Erika wasn’t his girlfriend and then closed his mouth. Because Erika was gorgeous, and he’d been looking forward to her coming this morning and he was sorry she’d left. “Yes, she is.”
“That baby’s adorable, too. You’re a lucky man.”
Warmth filled Billy’s chest and he nodded. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. “I feel lucky.” And not just because he’d survived yesterday, but because he had people who cared. His family. Friends. Erika.
He knew Erika cared. He knew she wasn’t giving him grief just because she could. She was genuinely concerned, and her concern mattered. The last thing he wanted to do was worry her, but at the same time, he was a professional cowboy, and there were hazards to his occupation, and as much as he didn’t want to stress her, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who he was.
The doctor arrived late in the day, and Billy asked all the questions he wanted to know, questions regarding recovery because riding, roping, and competing were central to him. His identity was that of a cowboy. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t competing. He’d learned back in high school if he competed well, he walked away with trophies, saddles, and belt buckles. As an established name in the PRCA, he earned big money, and now that he was a dad, he needed to provide for his boy. His earnings would give Beck a home.
*
Every day Erika took Beck to see Billy at the hospital. Billy had his own room which made it easier for visits. Some days she’d have to wait in the hall while nurses did whatever they did in Billy’s room, and other times he was alone when she arrived, and he’d reach for Beck, which made her happy.
While Billy held Beck, she’d settle into a chair and chat about whatever Billy wanted to discuss. Sometimes they’d just watch the news on TV, and other times he’d ask her to read something to him on her phone. “Do you need reading glasses?” she asked him the second time he’d requested she look something up for him.
He adjusted Beck in the crook of his arm, so that Beck could sit up properly. “No. I just… don’t read well.”
She frowned. “But you can read.”
“I can. I don’t find it easy, though.” He paused a beat. “I’m dyslexic. It’s not a big thing, just something I deal with.”
“I had no idea.”
“It’s not something I brag about.”
“Not something to be ashamed of, either.”
“Maybe if I’d been diagnosed younger, there would have been less shame. But I was eleven when I was diagnosed, the end of fifth grade, and by then, I hated school. I’d been labeled lazy and troubled for so many years that school felt like prison. I just didn’t want to be there.”
She’d studied dyslexia and learning disabilities extensively as part of her program. “How did they finally figure it out?”
“Sam did.”
“Your brother Sam?”
“Sam was really good in school, especially with reading and writing. One night after Mom had gotten really mad at me for bad grades, Sam offered to tutor me. It took him about a week to understand what was going on, and he was the first person to figure out that my trouble was seeing the letters. I had a difficult time decoding them. My brain didn’t ‘see’ the whole picture, and then I had trouble remembering what I did read.”
“Visual dyslexia.”
He nodded. “Once Sam figured it out, the school’s special education program was able to confirm it.”
“Don’t tell me you were put in special ed.”
“They didn’t think I was very smart.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
He smiled at her vehement tone. “I’m just glad Sam was able to help me. Sam’s smart that way. He’s always been focused. Strategic. He’d make a great general.”
“And you’d be his foot soldier?”
“I’d follow Sam anywhere.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “And I have.”
“Do you like his wife?”
“Ivy? She’s amazing. She and Sam belong together.”
“You like Joe’s wife, too.”
“Sophie is perfect for Joe.”
“Does Tommy have anyone special?”
Billy shook his head. “No. He and I are confirmed bachelors.”
Erika was silent a moment processing everything, before asking, “Have you told your family about Beck? That he is your son?”
“I sent a text to everyone. No one was surprised.”
“Not even your mom?”
He laughed. “Least of all her. She said she knew it all along.”
Erika smiled. “I like her.”
“She’s a good woman. She put up with all of us.” Billy shifted and his hospital gown dipped low on his chest, and peeled up on his arm, revealing more bronzed skin, and hard honed muscles, than she’d ever seen on any man. His jaw was bristled, and his hair shaggy and she looked away every time the covers came up, exposing his knee or thigh, aware that there was nothing on under his cotton gown than bandages and… skin.
“Do you want me to take Beck back?” she asked, her pulse racing a little too fast, her voice sounding a little too breathy.
“No, I’m good. Do I look uncomfortable?”
She glanced back at him, the exposed collarbone on one side, and thick white bandages on the other. Even with cast and sling he looked amazing. Physical, virile, male. Incredibly male. Incredibly sexy. “I just don’t want to tire you out.”
“You haven’t even been here a half hour.”
“I’ve been warned not to stay too long.”
“By whom? I’ll have a word with that person.”
“That’s not necessary. Everyone is just trying to take good care of you.”