Every Second Counts (17 page)

“Help me get her in my car, Jo-Jo. She’s going to see a doctor whether she wants to or not.”

Ryder didn’t protest this time as Jo-Jo shouldered under her arm, held her tight around the waist, and shuffled toward the parking lot.

“She okay?” Lou asked.

“I’m going to make sure,” she said, handing her the bloody towels. “Can you get Marc’s keys from Sherry and have someone drive her truck back to Skyler’s place?”

“Sure. Desiree and I’ll take care of it.” Lou wrapped her big hand around Bridgette’s forearm and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t be too hard on her, Bridgette. Showing off and doing crazy things is just Ryder. That’s who she is.”

She nodded, but she didn’t really agree. She was beginning to understand that it was just who Ryder was pretending to be.

Ryder was afraid that if she opened her eyes, the warm fingers gently clasping her cold hand would withdraw.

Her knee was stiff, but a quick X-ray and examination revealed only a little swelling of the soft tissue. The metal plate and pins holding her newly mended shin together were intact. And while her nose was swollen enough that she had to breathe through her mouth, the cartilage was not broken.

The nausea and pounding in her head, however, were keeping her in the emergency room, now going on four hours. She shivered at the caress of Bridgette’s thumb against the back of her hand.

“Are you cold? I can ask for another blanket.”

She tightened her fingers around Bridgette’s to stop her from pulling free.

“This stupid gown doesn’t cover much, but I don’t want to get too comfortable. I’d rather dress and get out of here. What’s taking that doctor so long?”

“He’s waiting on your MRI results.”

“You don’t have to stay. I know you have to get up early.” Even as she said it, she clung to Bridgette’s hand, pathetically unable to let go.

“How do you think you’ll get home?”

“I can call Skyler or Tory.”

“I’m fine. I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

She sighed. She’d always been alone. That’s why she filled her life with distractions—beautiful women, exciting places, and adrenaline-pumping experiences.

Then she met Bridgette. Something about her made Ryder feel the loneliness again. Made her feel everything.

She’d been embarrassed when giving her medical history. She couldn’t answer the routine questions about heart disease or cancer in her family. She had to explain that, yes, her parents were alive, but, no, she didn’t know exactly where they were currently living. They were probably still in South Africa.

She usually told people her parents were dead. But Bridgette already knew about them and she didn’t want to lie in front of her, no matter how ashamed she was that she knew so little about them.

“Maybe it won’t be much longer.” She was torn between guilt and need. She needed, wanted desperately for Bridgette to stay close. But she felt guilty that her antics were responsible for keeping her from going home and getting some sleep.

They had barely made it out of the bar when she’d pushed away from Jo-Jo and stumbled over to empty her stomach in the shrubbery. It wasn’t the alcohol. She’d consumed a lot more tequila before and never lost her dinner.

She didn’t need a doctor to diagnose her, either. The symptoms were familiar—slightly blurred vision, sensitivity to light, nausea, and a pounding headache. She’d had a lot of concussions during her riding career. Enough to know that a couple days of rest and a handful of pain pills were the only cure.

She was about to ask Bridgette to help her put her pants on when the doctor stepped around the curtain.

“Well, Ms. Ryder. Your MRI scan doesn’t show any swelling or lesions, but your symptoms indicate a mild concussion.” He gave Ryder a disapproving look. “We can’t be sure, however, because your blood-alcohol level also could be responsible for your slurred speech when you arrived in the ER and your nausea and your headache now.”

“Fine. Can I go now?”

“I’m not finished. Your medical history indicates you are an athlete and have experienced multiple concussions since you were a teen. Are you aware that new studies indicate cumulative damage from multiple concussions can cause significant neurological and emotional problems?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the publicity about pro football players having brain damage.”

“Then I shouldn’t have to caution you further. You know the risks.”

“Yeah, okay.” The lights were too bright and her head hurt. She just wanted to go home.

“I understand you are recovering from recent orthopedic injury. I would caution you against taking any anti-inflammatory prescriptions you may have over the next couple of days because of the risk of intracranial bleeding. You can, however, take acetaminophen for pain.”

She started to nod, which only caused a new wave of nausea. “I know the drill. I’ll pick up some on the way home.”

The doctor handed Bridgette a sheet with instructions. “She shouldn’t drive and someone should keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. There’s a drugstore across town that stays open all night, or you can take a left at the nurses’ desk, go to the end of the hall, and take a right. The hospital pharmacy is open.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Bridgette took the instructions.

“You can dress, but wait here until the nurse comes back. She’ll give you an injection that will help with the nausea.”

Bridgette watched him leave. “Ready to get dressed?”

Ryder moved slowly. She would have given a hundred bucks for a pair of sunglasses to block the light that was piercing her brain, but she was determined not to dry heave again in front of Bridgette. She was sweating and shaking by the time they got her clothes on, and she sat on the bed so Bridgette could gently put her boots on for her.

“Maybe this little accident wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

Ryder lay back and covered her eyes to gather her strength. “You can say that. Your brain isn’t trying to pound its way out of your skull,” she muttered.

“I hope you listen to him and start thinking about a different career.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.” She didn’t want to think about anything while this jackhammer was going off in her head.

“I think your brain is already scrambled. Or maybe you’re just hoping to break your neck and get it over with quickly.”

The venom in Bridgette’s voice startled her.

“I wear safety gear, Bridgette.” She sat up a little too quick and her stomach roiled. When she looked frantically around the room, Bridgette tossed the puke basin into her lap.

“I’ll go get your medicine.”

*

Of all the moronic egomaniacs, why did she get saddled with this one? Bridgette was furious.

She suddenly realized she had always blamed herself in some small way for her brother’s death. She should have guessed what he was up to and insisted that he watch with her from the balcony. But now she knew no amount of logic would have dissuaded him. And that made her furious.

How could Stephan and Ryder be so careless with their lives, with the feelings of the people who cared about them? She stopped in the middle of the hallway. She didn’t care about Ryder. She’d just met her. She was an arrogant, mule-headed, macho prick. Bridgette sighed. She was sexy and charming and sweet and passionate.

A shiver ran through her. Though Ryder was an incredible lover, it was the vulnerable woman she’d only glimpsed that touched her deep inside, made her want to heal and protect. But how could she take on someone else’s baggage when she couldn’t even deal with her own issues? Ryder was just like Stephan. His insane recklessness had both thrilled and terrified her. Still, she’d let herself love him and look how that turned out.

She started walking again, then realized she must have taken a wrong turn. Why did hospitals have to be a maze of hallways? Every hallway looked the same, but nothing looked familiar. There had to be a nurses’ station around here somewhere.

She was about to backtrack when a familiar figure brought her up short.

Skyler was leaning against the wall and talking on her cell phone.

“No, just a false alarm, Laura. She’s fine. The baby’s fine. I’d feel better, though, if you and Kate would fly back to the States pretty soon. Dr. Nichols says it won’t be long.” Skyler looked up at her. “Thanks. Okay, I’ll tell her. We love you guys, too.” She ended the call and smiled at Bridgette.

“Is Jess okay?”

“Yeah. False labor. They’re sending her back home.” Skyler looked harried but happy. She raked her long fingers through her shaggy blond hair. “Damn, I need to get a haircut before the baby comes. What are you doing up here? Did someone get hurt at the game? Did you guys win?”

She had forgotten that she was still dressed for softball, except for the tennis shoes that had replaced her cleats.

“The only thing hurt was the other team’s egos,” she said quickly, then grinned. “I pitched my first real no-hitter tonight.”

“No shit? Congratulations. So, you up here to see a friend?”

She frowned as her earlier irritation resurfaced. “Actually, one of
your
friends had an accident at the R&R and I drove her to the ER.”

Most on Bridgette’s team were women Skyler had grown up with in Cherokee Falls. “Which one?”

“Marc.”

“Ryder? We wondered where she’d gone off to. She okay? Did she hurt her leg?”

“Her leg is fine, but her stupidly hard head was injured.”

Skyler laughed. “Well, if she fell on her head, she should be okay.”

Damn it. Was she the only one who recognized how dangerous this could be? “Have you ever had a concussion?” Her scowl must have clued Skyler that she wasn’t amused, because she stopped laughing.

“Yeah, a couple of times when I was working as a professional rider. Sometimes you were hired to ride a horse only once or twice, so you didn’t get a chance to know it. That always increases the possibility of misreading the cues and taking a tumble.”

“You still jump horses.” Bridgette’s tone was accusing, but Skyler didn’t take the bait.

“I do, but I spend most of my time giving lessons and working with the kids now. When I do jump horses, as a trainer, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to get to know the horse before I take it over the jumps.” Skyler glanced toward the hospital-room door next to them. “I have to be more careful now that I’ve got other people depending on me.”

“So, I guess if you’re single, it’s okay to act like a twenty-eight-year-old juvenile, foolishly taking idiotic chances with your life. What if Marc broke her neck riding those bulls and was paralyzed? Or worse, killed? Does she think nobody would care?”

“Uh—”

A nurse rolled a wheelchair up to Skyler, oblivious to the argument she was interrupting. “I’m sure we’ll see you soon, but you can go ahead and take her home tonight.”

“Thanks,” Skyler said, taking charge of the chair and looking relieved. “Jess is ready. She’s really disappointed it’s not happening tonight, though.” She turned back to Bridgette. “You want to come in and say hey?”

She looked at her watch. “No. Marc’s waiting for me to give her a ride home. I was just looking for the pharmacy to pick up some acetaminophen for her.”

“We’ve got plenty at home. If you like, she can go with us since we’re on our way out.”

“I do have to get up early. That would be great.”

“No problem.”

“I didn’t mean to go off on you.” She let out a frustrated breath. “I just get so aggravated with her.” She gave Skyler’s hand a squeeze. “Take care of Jess. Hopefully, I’ll see you two at the auction, if not before.” She started to walk away but turned back. “Oh. They were supposed to give her a shot for nausea while I went to the pharmacy. But she’s been throwing up a lot, so you may want to leave the window down, too, when you drive her home.”

Bridgette walked briskly to the parking lot without stopping in the ER, where Ryder lay wounded and hurting. Part of her wanted to take Ryder to her loft, to watch over her, to wipe her brow and rub her back while she threw up. A bigger part wanted to run far enough away that she could forget those dark eyes and that dangerous grin.

*

Retching over the puke basin had pushed her headache from bad to worse, so Ryder paid little attention when the attractive nurse exposed a lot more of her butt than necessary, took a lot longer than usual to administer the injection, and then slipped her phone number into Ryder’s pocket before she left. Instead, she closed her eyes and sank into the blissful drowsiness the medicine induced.

Her last thought was of Bridgette as the sounds of the hospital receded.

She couldn’t really recall what she’d said to make her so mad, but when Bridgette returned, she planned to beg to spend the night at the loft, and hopefully she’d feel well enough to talk it out in the morning. It wasn’t a surefire plan, but it was the best her muddled brain could come up with and she felt reasonably hopeful, right up until the moment Skyler shook her awake.

“Damn, what happened to your nose? No wonder you were snoring like a freight train.”

“What? What are you doing here? Where’s Bridgette?”

“Gone home. She said she has to get up early.”

Ryder sat up carefully. Her head was fuzzy, but the pounding was only a dull ache and her stomach had settled. “Did she call you?”

“No. I ran into her down the hall. I told her you could ride with us since we were already here.”

Everything jumped into sharp focus as she recalled Jessica feeling sick at dinner. “Jess, the baby. Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. Just false labor pains.” Jessica was sitting in a wheelchair slightly behind Skyler, looking up at her with concern. “What happened to you?”

She gingerly felt her nose and wondered how bad it looked. Why did things always go haywire when Bridgette was around? “I was standing on the mechanical bull at R&R and Jo-Jo accidently elbowed the controls.”

“What the hell were you doing standing on it?”

Ryder blinked at Skyler, realizing how stupid she sounded. “Don’t remember, exactly,” she lied.