Josie’s answer was another round of sobs. Jesse’s response was turning back to the wall, sliding his hat off his head, and dropping it into the chair. It was Rowen—of course it was Rowen—who stepped up, looked me straight in the eye, and inhaled. Had I been anyone else, I probably would have raised my hand and cut her off. Shit, that was if I actually could have lifted my hand, which I couldn’t. I couldn’t even feel my girlfriend’s hand in it.
If I wasn’t made of piss and grit, I would have told Rowen not to say anything. I would have begged her not to say what I knew she was going to. I would have preferred to stay ignorant rather than be told what I knew no one in the room could work up the guts to tell me.
Wrapping one arm around Josie and pulling her close, Rowen didn’t blink as she held my stare. “When you got thrown from the bull, you landed on your head. Hard.” When Josie’s sobs picked up, Rowen patted her back, almost as if she were comforting a child. “So hard you went unconscious. The paramedics brought you here, to Casper Mercy, and you’ve been unconscious for over twenty-four hours.” Rowen worked up a half-smile. “Long enough we were about to tell them to pull the plug.”
I lifted my brows, not amused. “Gee, thanks. Glad you guys were willing to stick with me through the long haul. Nice to know I’ve got friends who have my back instead of wanting to break it when I’m down.”
Josie’s whole face froze, and then it creased into deep lines before the waterworks flooded on all over again.
“Nice analogy,” Rowen muttered at me, patting Josie’s back more furiously to match her sobs. “Asshole,” she tacked on when Josie started shaking.
“Hey, I’m the one on my back in a hospital bed trying to figure out what happened, and I’m the asshole?” I went to throw my hands in the air, but they stayed plastered to the bed. That was when everything came together. Like, all the way came together. “My back.” I concentrated on Rowen because I couldn’t keep looking at Josie in her current state and feeling totally helpless. “It’s broken, isn’t it?”
Rowen took one long breath before she replied. “They’re not sure.” She diverted her eyes long enough to make panic settle into my stomach.
If even the iron fortress Rowen Sterling-Walker couldn’t look me in the eye, it had to be bad. I’d witnessed her barely blink when I had to put a calf out of its misery last spring when she and Jesse had been in town visiting. A baby fucking calf had been crying in pain one moment and dead the next, and the girl hadn’t even flinched. That she was flinching and avoiding eye contact with me now was one of the least welcome signs I’d ever seen.
“They wanted to do X-rays when you arrived, but the doctor was afraid to move you too much. He said that he’d try if you woke up.” Rowen caught herself and gave a single shake of her head. “When you woke up.”
“Rowen . . .” I swallowed, my throat no longer feeling dry. It felt as if it had been stuffed with wet cement and I couldn’t choke it down. “Give it to me straight. Please.”
Jesse was still facing the wall, but now his forehead was leaning into it. Josie had stopped sobbing, and she looked as though she was frozen in some shell of shock. Rowen and I were the only ones in the room still in possession of our wits, although they were both fraying. I wasn’t sure if hers or mine would run out first.
“Am I paralyzed?”
God bless that girl for not blinking or looking away or sucking in a heavy breath. God bless Josie for giving a final sniffle, rolling her shoulders back, and crouching beside the bed so her face was level with mine. I had to check because I couldn’t feel it, but her hand was still securely fastened in mine. God bless Jess for shoving off that favorite wall of his, turning to face me, bracing his hands around the foot rail of my bed, and looking at me so straight on. I knew the big city hadn’t worked its way too far into him yet.
“They don’t know, baby,” Josie whispered, her voice as hoarse as mine. “The doctor said there was no way of knowing for sure until they did the X-rays.”
I nodded and tried working up a smile for her. I knew she needed one. I could tell she was desperate to be comforted and told everything would be okay. That smile took more effort than it should have. “Did the doctor say anything about what it would mean if I woke up feeling . . .” I moved my head—it felt stiff and tender, but I could move it. When I tried moving my arm, my leg, or even my toes, I came up empty. “If I woke up feeling nothing from my neck down?” I filled my lungs, searching for a scrap of courage I could hang on to while I talked with my girlfriend about the possibility of being paralyzed from the neck down. “What it might mean if I woke up not being able to move anything at all?”
Josie glanced back at Rowen, her forehead creasing as if she wasn’t sure how to answer.
Rowen dropped her hand onto Josie’s shoulder and stepped closer. “The doctor said we wouldn’t know anything for sure until he got the X-rays. That’s the only way of knowing for sure if you broke . . . something.”
“If I broke my back, you mean?”
After a moment, Rowen nodded. “That’s a possibility, but he also said you could have just suffered some trauma to your spine that might take some time and therapy to heal—”
“Cut the sugarcoating, Sterling-Walker. Give it to me straight. The way you always do. I can take it.” When my eyes closed, I forced them to reopen. I wouldn’t skulk away from this. I would grab it by the horns and wrestle it to the ground until I’d forced it into submission. “What else did the doctor say that you’re too chicken to tell me?”