Cowboys & Kisses (15 page)

“You’d have told me?”

I shrugged. “What did Dax tell you?”

“You were in a car crash. Lindie and another boy were killed. You survived.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound like such a big deal.”

“But it was,” he said.

I fixed the couch, putting things back together to give myself something to do.

“You think it was your fault?” he asked.

All the air went out of my lungs, so I sat, hard, on the edge of the couch. He sat beside me, his gaze unrelenting. “I
know
it was my fault.”

He shook his head. His brows creased and he started to say something so I cut him off.

“It’s easier this way.” I shrugged, my throat constricting. “I can’t lose anyone else, Wyatt. I
can’t
do it.”

His hand cupped my cheek. “Oh, Allie—” His voice broke. “Losing people…
sucks
.” His voice was hard and fierce, his forehead resting against mine. “But not having anyone to lose—being alone—is worse.”

There was pain in his voice. Anguish, real and raw. He was alone. All alone. His dad was gone. His mother was God only knew where. And, somehow, the first thing he thought of when the storm started was me—being here for me.

My heart twisted. He was offering me everything I wanted but didn’t deserve.

His other hand came up, cradling my face, tilting my face to his. His breath was warm on my cheek, my lips.

“Wyatt… I can’t, Wyatt.” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and yanked out of his hold. I stood up, gasping for air, trying to break the connection that we had. “I’m going to bed. You can stay. Or you can go home. I’m f-fine. I am.”

I ran up the stairs to my room, and didn’t look back.

***

He was sound asleep on the couch when I snuck from the house for my morning run. It was wet and the ground was slick, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me. I needed to run.

I went down twice in the clay-like mud sucking at my running shoes, but got back up and kept going. The last time I fell, I hit hard, landing on a bed of rocks. A few rocks shifted, rolling under my chin.

The white-hot needle of pain was instantaneous, catching me by surprise. My neck was on fire. Then my cheek. I reached up, pressing my hand over my neck, then my cheek. A scorpion fell onto my hand, stinging my hand and wrist before I managed to fling it to the ground.

I stood up quickly. “Shit!” I slipped but kept going, too terrified I’d find that nasty little rat-bastard again. And, seriously, I was starting to hurt.

By the time I got back to the house I wasn’t feeling very well. The stings were throbbing. My head felt like it was being squeezed. I sat on the front porch steps, gasping for air. I tugged off my shoes and shirt, hoping air would make me feel cooler or at least less constricted. Didn’t work. My tongue was feeling thick.

“Shit.” I stood, leaning against the porch railing to get my bearings. The door seemed very far away… I started walking, getting heavier and hotter and more breathless with each step.

Wyatt’s truck was still here. I pushed open the door. “Wyatt,” I wheezed. “Wyatt!”

Wyatt popped up from the couch, bleary-eyed. “Allie?”

I slid down the door frame. “Scorpion. Think I’m allergic.”

He jumped over the back of the couch, picked me up, and headed toward his truck.

“Shoes? Sh-sh-shirt?” My tongue was swelling.

“Don’t need ’em,” he said, opening the door while balancing me.

“Need…” I shook my head. “Benadryl.”

“I’ll get it.” He ran back inside and came back—with Benadryl and boots but no shirt.

Five minutes later we were on the road to the nearest emergency clinic…ten miles to go.

“You sure you took two of them?” Wyatt asked for the fourth time.

I nodded, my breathing loud in the cab.

“How do you feel? What can I do?” he asked.

I listed into him, shivering a little. He pulled me close, making me warmer in an instant.

My phone rang but I let Wyatt answer. “Dax? Wyatt. Call your folks. Allie got stung by a scorpion…a few times. Allergic…headed to the ER… Molly can tell you.”

I must have fallen asleep against his shoulder. Next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed feeling fine. Well, almost fine. I definitely felt like I’d been stung by a scorpion on the neck, cheek, and arm.

“Hey,” I said to Dax and Wyatt.

Wyatt had his hands covering his face. When I spoke, he looked up. He was so freaking happy and reassured, I smiled, forcing my attention to Dax, who was watching the two of us with a self-satisfied grin.

“You just
have
to be the center of attention,” he said.

“Screw you,” I said, and sucked in a deep breath. “I can breathe.”

Wyatt’s voice was amused. “That’s a good thing.”

“A definite improvement. Nothing like seeing your sister passed out, put on oxygen, and getting some big-ass shot to liven things up.”

I smiled. “I try.”

“Folks are on the way,” Dax said. “Heads up.”

“Great.” I frowned.

“Allie, it’ll be okay,” Dax assured me.

“Says the golden child,” I replied, without bite.

“They’ll be relieved.” Wyatt’s voice was troubled.

“Maybe,” I mumbled.

“Allie…” Dax shook his head. “Come on.”

I held up my hand. “Okay, that was a low blow, but—”

“I know they’re hard on you,” Dax admitted. “Dad’s hard on you.”

It took everything I had not to cry. I wanted to cry. I nodded, but decided changing the subject might be the best thing to do at this point. “So how long have we been here?” I asked.

“Half an hour maybe.” Wyatt shrugged. “We walked in, they gave you a shot, you started breathing. Once you were breathing, everyone calmed down. I know I did.” He stood up, pacing the room.

“I stopped breathing?” I asked.

“Yeah. Almost. You were pretty grey…” His voice was rough.

“Man.” Dax stood up. “Thank you. Seriously. You saved her life.”

Wyatt’s eyes fixed on my feet, his face hard, the muscle in his jaw flexing and unflexing. I remembered his face, the unfiltered fear, when he’d picked me up. I thought he’d talked to me, saying my name over and over, on the way here, but that was a little foggy. I thought he might have said a few things a boy had never said to me before, but there was no way I could be sure of it. I knew he cared about me, he’d told me as much. He cared about me and he’d cared for me—over and over again.

“Yes. Thank you,” I said, aware that my voice was soft and wobbly and not caring in the least.

“Allie…” Wyatt shook his head, running a hand over his face. He paused, then reached out and held my toes through the sheet. He was warm, but his fingers were shaking.

“Be right back.” Dax all but ran out of the partitioned room.

“Wyatt?” I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted him to hold me close. His eyes bore into mine, haunted and exhausted and so damn gorgeous. What could I say to make him feel better? To thank him. “I’m sorry—”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to own a scorpion bite. Or an allergic reaction. This could have happened to anyone, so you can’t blame yourself. Got it?”

How did he know? “But—”

“But nothing. I’ve lived here my whole life, been stung more times that I can remember. Hell yes, it hurt more than a fire ant, but I didn’t stop breathing.” The last few words were so anguished I held my hand out.

“I’m breathing,” I murmured.

He took my hand, holding it in both of his. His warm brown gaze never left my face.

“Because of you.”

He didn’t say anything, but his face…his eyes…his posture said a lot. He was holding back, everything about him was rigid—on edge. The crease on his forehead deepened, killing me. Finally, he reached down, to touch me, but stopped.

My heart lodged itself in my throat. I don’t know what I wanted, but not this—not Wyatt all stressed out and tense and worried. “Wyatt…”

He blinked, releasing my hand and stepping back. He looked…uncertain, guilty.
Dammit
. He…he was amazing.

“The doc is talking to your parents on the phone now. I think you’ll be going home soon,” he said.

“And you can get some sleep. And find some clothes,” I said, trying to tease, to ease the tension hanging between us.

“I don’t look good?” he asked, staring down at the blue hospital scrub top.

“Um…” I shrugged.
You’d look good in anything.
“Not the way I’m used to seeing you, I guess.”
I prefer you all virile cowboy, shirtless and a little bit sweaty.

Dax came in, eyeing the two of us. He sighed and handed me a cup. “Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Just water,” he said with a laugh. “You’re supposed to be drinking lots of water.”

I emptied the cup, loving the cold all the way down. “Oh, thank you.” I finished, handing him the cup.

“More?” he asked.

“Allie?” My mother was crying as she joined us behind the fabric partition in the ER.

“Mom, I’m okay,” I assured her, even as she wrapped me in a tight embrace and sobbed. “I’m not a fan of scorpions, but I’m fine.”

She laughed. “We’ll have pest control come out.”

“I was out running. I don’t think it’s economical to have all…how many acres is it, Dad?” I asked.

“A lot,” my father answered.

“Right. It happens. Wyatt said he’s been tagged lots of times.”

“Too many to count,” Wyatt agreed.

“They’re everywhere, June,” Dad said to my mother. “Now we know she’s allergic, we can be prepared if she gets stung again.”

My mother’s grip relaxed a little. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here.”

“Mom.” I pulled back. “Chill. You and Dad should do…what married people do. Being here wouldn’t have changed what happened.”

She smiled, touching my cheek. “When did you get so smart?”

“She got it from me,” Dax answered. “It’s been a slow learning process, let me tell you.”

I ignored my brother. “Wyatt’s the hero. He got me here.”

I saw his face turn red, then a pale white, staring hard at the floor.

“Sounds like a rough time.” My father looked at Wyatt. “You okay, son?”

It didn’t bother me when Dad called him “son.” I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I knew Wyatt was on his own. Or that it was obvious Dad truly liked Wyatt. Or that I cared for Wyatt. A lot. Too much. But I wanted him to have…affection. And attention. He deserved it.

“Not gonna lie, sir.” Wyatt smiled a little. “It shook me up.”

My mom stood up, hugging Wyatt tightly. He hugged her back. I saw the way his hands fisted against her back, saw the way he hid his face against her shoulder. And felt my heart swell.

I love you, Wyatt.

Oh God. I do. I love him. Dammit.
I love you.

“Can we get out of here?” Dax asked. “I know Wyatt’s not a fan of hospitals either.”

Wyatt straightened, looking a little less anguished, but my mom hooked her arm with his as she spoke. “Yes. Allie needs to eat something. Peggy’s?”

Dad nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Sorry I’m not up for cooking right now,” I said, sitting up and swinging my legs out of the bed. Wyatt’s grin made my pulse pick up. Without thinking, I smiled right back.

I love you.

This could be a problem.

“Need help?” my dad asked, turning to me.

Wait. He was looking at me. Really looking at me—making actual eye contact.

“I’m…I’m good,” I managed. “Thanks.”

He smiled a little, and nodded. “You’re tough stuff, kid.”

I’ve had to be.

I tried to muster up attitude and anger, but I was too tired. I was just happy to be here, breathing, with my family. And Wyatt…who was, really, part of the family at this point. To me, he was definitely someone special.

“I don’t have shoes.” I noticed my feet were bare, mud still covering my ankles.

“I have some flip-flops in the car,” Mom said.

I nodded. “Give me a sec to clean up a little.”

Mom coerced a few towels out of one of the orderlies and I spent a good ten minutes scrubbing as much mud off of my legs and neck and face as possible. It had dried but it stuck like glue, grey and tacky.

“This is really gross.”

Mom handed me a bag. “My workout clothes. They’ll be too big for you, but at least they’re clean and dry.”

“Thanks.” I tossed the towel in the sink and opened the bag. “I’m still all crunchy.”

Once I was dressed, Mom leaned closer. “Hurt?” she asked, eyeing the bites on my neck and cheek.

I nodded. “They each have a heartbeat. And they feel hot.”

She winced. “Food. Then bed.”

“I’m fine,” I argued. “I actually feel pretty good.”

“Because you’re pumped up on epinephrine. I’m kind of expecting you to crash and feel sick within an hour.”

“Great.” I sighed, shoving my dirty clothes into the bag. “Can’t wait.” She laughed, holding the door open for me.

Dad was on his phone when we came out. So was Dax. Wyatt was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. And my heart picked up.

“Mom,” I whispered softly, “Wyatt needs sleep. He drove in late last night—”

“Drove in where?” She tried to act casual but I knew what she was asking.

“To our place. It was storming. Dax was stuck at Molly’s house so Wyatt came straight over because—”

“Because he knows you’re not a fan of storms?”

I nodded. “He’s exhausted.”

She paused, whispering, “He won’t go. Your dad already tried. But I don’t feel good about him driving.”

He won’t go? Because of me. I was so…confused.

She spoke up. “Dax, will you drive Wyatt and Allie to the house? Dad and I will pick up some food and follow you.”

“I’m fine, Dr. Cooper—”

“Wyatt, please do this for me. I don’t want your falling asleep at the wheel on my conscience, please. Once you have some food in your belly and a nice, long nap, Dax can bring you back here for your truck.”

“Unless we’re interrupting your plans?” I asked Dax, thinking of Molly.

“Cut me some slack, Al. I did get here in time to see you, blue and unresponsive. I kind of want to hang out, you know, watch you breathe and stuff for a while. Okay?”