Page 22 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

“ W hy—why are you here?” My eyelashes flutter, and fog still addles my senses. I can’t remember shit from today, between the knock to my head and the unknown concoction occupying my veins.

Raine’s harsh glare swims into focus.

He’s here.

Why the fuck is he here?

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact. Even after I told you to delete me outta your phone.”

This is confusing as fuck. Why is my stepbrother—who I don’t have any connection with, who I don’t even goddamn well know—standing in this hospital?

Our lives have been completely and utterly separate for years.

Before he turned up in Crimson Ridge, I can’t remember the last time I saw the guy, or had any interaction with him, that fact is telling enough.

We aren’t anything to each other.

“I don’t fucking know, man.” The effort to talk and sit up leaves me coughing. “I’m on whatever they dish out as pain meds around here. Pretty sure that doctor just looked at me like every bone in my body was shattered. You tell me? I have no goddamn clue why they contacted you.”

Raine pinches his brow and takes in the sight of me. His dark eyes narrow as he looks up and down the bed, assessing all that he finds there. Probably cataloging every single one of my failings in this spectacular example of how I’m never good enough.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“Dunno.” I shrug, giving up on trying to sit, and let my head sink deeper into the thin pillow instead. “Memory is fucked.”

He takes a deep inhale through his nose. Then digs in his jacket pocket for his phone. “Gotta make a call.” And, of course, Raine being Raine, he disappears without explaining himself.

Fuck. This is humiliating. There’s not much more of a perfect punishment I could be leveled with than to have that asshole see me at my lowest. He’ll be getting a real kick out of this shit, I bet anything.

My mind is whirring faster now. Still playing catch up and trying to piece together the fuzzy blanks blocking my understanding of what went on. How I ended up in the hospital in the first place. I suddenly wonder if anyone has got in touch with my dad to let him know?

Christ. He’s gonna flip out. I’m supposed to be running things for him... and he’s halfway around the world.

A new doctor arrives. This time, it's a lady with dyed silver hair pulled in a high ponytail. She’s trendy, no-nonsense, with tattoos peeking out over her wrist bone on one hand.

“Hello, Mr. Wilder.” She offers me a smile and checks the vitals on the monitor I’m evidently hooked up to. “How are you feeling now?”

“Have we already talked?” I furrow my brow, getting the sense that she’s already done rounds past my bedside before now.

“That we have.” She props her hands on her hips. “Quite a blow you took to the head.”

“Are you gonna tell me I’m an idiot for riding broncs?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you already know the answer to that question.”

“Can I go home?” I hesitate to ask, but my head is murky with worry about the cattle and the horses.

I’d only made plans with Storm to go up and check on them in the afternoon, and who knows what fucking time it is.

Surely I can’t have been out of it for that long.

Raine is still wearing the same clothes I saw him in earlier .

“You can, yes. I’m happy to discharge you now that your emergency contact has arrived.

But you’ll need a few weeks at least for recovery.

Concussion rehab isn’t an exact science.

It varies depending on the individual. And your meniscus tear will have to be monitored.

We’ll provide you with details to drop into a local clinic for a follow-up scan. ”

Fucking hell. This is a nightmare. As she’s talking, I’m running through what that means in reality inside my head. What are my options here?

With my dad and Layla being overseas, that naturally put the care of the ranch on my shoulders, and wouldn’t that just be brilliant if I’d fucked that up for the two of them. No thanks, I’m beyond uninterested in summoning those two back to Montana all because I fell off my fucking horse.

Chaos? He’s competing. He’s at the top of his season. I couldn’t do that to my friend. Absolutely not. I’d never ask him to risk his current standing on the tour.

Storm is familiar with helping out around the ranch. Hell, the guy stayed throughout the winter before he and Briar met. But they’re busy helping out at Sunset Skies Ranch for Beau. Not to mention taking care of their equine therapy horses and running Devil’s Peak Farriers.

Jesus. It’s never been more painfully obvious that I’ve messed everything up by getting hurt.

It should have been a simple task—take care of my dad’s ranch for him while he’s gone. Now, I’ve managed to go and ruin things. All because I couldn’t stay on my goddamn ride for eight stupid seconds.

“Ah, I was just explaining to Mr. Wilder that he’ll need support at home.” She flashes a wide smile and gives Raine a handshake when he walks back in. “You’re his brother?”

“ Stepbrother.” We both grit out in unison.

“Perfect, that works well then.” She doesn’t bat an eyelid. “You’ll need to either stay with someone who can offer support, or have assistance at home.”

We’re both opening and closing our mouths in protest, but the doctor carries on.

She’s talking about concussion recovery, about avoiding undue stresses or twisting motions on my knee until they can do a follow-up scan.

She passes Raine a contact number for the local clinic where I’ll need to be driven in order to assess my meniscus tear.

This can’t possibly be happening.

If I can’t drive—if I can’t ride—that’s my entire world. My day-to-day life is a charred wreckage right in front of my eyes in this stupid little hospital bed.

“Stop by the nurse’s station, and they’ll sort out discharge papers.

” She goes about removing the line from the back of my hand and inclines her head toward a bag sitting on the chair I hadn’t noticed before.

“The things you came in with are in there, and your brother has hopefully remembered to bring you a pair of pants. The medics had to cut your jeans off to make sure you hadn’t broken your knee during the fall.

” Following her line of sight, I see the curtain separating me from the neighboring bed is only partially pulled.

A frail older lady sleeps in the next bay, surrounded by tubes, get-well cards, and an assortment of stuffed toys propped on the window beside her bed.

“Stepbrother.” My mumble comes out hoarse. He’s not my brother. He’s a guy who hates my guts and would probably gladly stuff a pillow over my airways the moment this doctor leaves the room.

Raine grunts something caveman-like that I can’t decipher before tossing a black t-shirt and pair of pale gray sweats on the edge of my bed.

She’s talking at me, and I smile and nod, but I’m not taking any of it in.

Reality is a numbing tide consuming everything inside of me. I don’t know how to fix this. I’ve managed to screw up... yet again.

Fortunately for my scattered thoughts, Raine follows the woman out into the corridor.

To do god knows what, but at least he’s not here to laugh at my abject misery.

I slowly sit up and swing my bare legs over the side of the bed.

My knee is the size of a fucking grapefruit, blown up like a balloon and bruised to shit.

I wince as I struggle to hook the soft, stretchy fabric over that foot and tug until I can thread the other through the foothole.

My pain isn’t exactly through the roof.

.. I’m sure these meds are preventing me from knowing just how goddamn sore this truly is.

What I do know is that I won’t be able to put any weight on that leg if I try to stand up.

If I can’t even walk, I certainly can’t do a fucking thing around the ranch. Hell, I’ll barely be able to make it between the lounge and the kitchen.

My throat tightens, but I’m not gonna bitch out and cry about this. This is the reality of rodeo. You get injured. I’ve ended up in the emergency room after falling before now. It’s all part of the game, and this time, I just wasn’t good enough to make it to the final buzzer.

Swallowing back any trace of emotion, I go into robot mode. Shrugging out of the hospital gown, I tug the clean t-shirt on. It’s soft and I can’t pick what the faint smell is that lingers on it, but it feels nice against my skin.

I’m running my fingers through my hair, staring at the light reflected in the military gray flooring, when boots squeak to a halt before me. Looking up, it’s Raine thrusting a set of crutches in my direction, a withering look on his face.

I don’t even let him start scolding me, I just shake my head and put all my pride to the side. As of this moment, I’m fucking exhausted and more defeated than ever.

“Don’t be a jerk about it, but I’ve got no other options. Can you stay and do the physical shit at the ranch while I rehab? I’ll pay you.” It’s a battle to work down a swallow. The bitterness of asking for this, while knowing exactly how pathetic I must look right now is torture.

“ Please .”