Real Sexy (Real Dirty Duet #2)(41)

But Boone sees it.

"Please, God, no!" Mrs. Thrasher's hand is over her mouth.

Everything happens so fast, I barely have time to comprehend what I'm seeing.

Boone dives at the man and the bull changes direction, its hooves flying, and one catches Boone in the head. He goes down, landing limply on top of the man who was such an asshole to him when we arrived.

I don't even think about moving. Next thing I know, I'm out of my seat and running down the bleacher stairs, then throwing myself over the fence. I land on my hands and knees in the dirt and scramble up to take off in a sprint. The other rodeo cowboys and two men on horses are rounding up the bull and corralling it toward the pen, but all I see is Boone's unmoving body on the ground.



       
         
       
        

People scream, sirens wail, but my mind goes blank when I see the blood dripping down the side of his face.

Red. The same color as the puddle on the bathroom floor around my mama.

No. I can't lose him too.

"Boone!"

I'm terrified to touch him. Terrified to move him, in case he has some sort of head or neck injury. My limited first aid knowledge comes back to me, and I rip off my long-sleeved shirt and hold it to his head to stop the bleeding.

"Ma'am, you have to move. You can't be in here." Someone touches my shoulder, but I slap them away with the other hand.

"What the fuck happened?" The body beneath Boone's shifts, and Boone's head lolls to the side.

"Don't fucking move, asshole. Stay right there." My voice snaps out with the order.

"Paramedics are coming. Ambulance was already here in case of an emergency."

Someone else drops to his knees beside me in the dirt. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" Even from our limited acquaintance, I recognize the voice. It's Boone's brother. "Hold on, little brother. You're gonna be just fine. Wake up, Boone. Come on, man."

The paramedics run into the arena with a backboard but I don't move the shirt, now soaked with blood, from Boone's head.

"Ma'am, we need you to move so the paramedics can help. They're gonna take good care of him. I promise."

My body is frozen in place, the blood staining my hands.

"Ripley, come on, we gotta let them help." Grant lays his hand over mine, breaking me loose from my paralysis.

I jerk my gaze away from Boone to meet blue eyes so much like his. "I . . . He-"

Grant wraps both arms around me and pulls me to my feet as the paramedics drop the backboard and get to work.

"I know. I know. He's gonna be okay. He's got a hard head. He's a tough son of a bitch. They don't grow 'em any stronger than the Thrashers. I promise you. Let's get over to the ambulance."

My hands shake as all the discordant thoughts crash together in my head. My eyes stay fixed on Boone as Grant drags me away. Tears stream down my face as they move him off Lou and start to work on him.

"He's gonna be fine. I swear." Grant repeats the words over and over as he walks us toward the gate where the ambulance is waiting.

A crowd rushes the fence, all eyes on Boone.

"Ma!"

Mr. and Mrs. Thrasher shove their way through the people to get to the gate.

"Is he-"

"Unconscious. Who's going in the ambulance?"

"I'm going to get my truck. Grant, give me your keys," Mr. Thrasher says, and Grant throws his keys to him. "I'll give them to Wendy so she can take Ky home and wait for us to call." 

"One of you give this girl a shirt," Mrs. Thrasher says, staring down at my tank top. I didn't even notice the chill bumps prickling my arms.

"It's okay. I'm fine." My focus is on the backboard they're carrying toward us.

"Someone's gotta go with him. Ma?"

My heart twists at the thought of letting Boone out of my sight for a single second.

"Ripley? You want to go?"

Boone's mom's voice catches me off guard, and I tear my gaze away from him to look at her.

I shake my head. "You go, ma'am. I don't know his blood type or if he's allergic to any drugs. They'll need the best information they can get, and as much as I want to crawl in there beside him and not take my eyes off him, he needs you more."

Something passes over her face, but it's gone before I can identify it. She gives me a nod. "We'll see you at the hospital. My boy is tough. He's gonna be just fine. You'll see."

"I know. He has to be. There's no other option."

Mrs. Thrasher rushes away from us to the open doors of the ambulance and climbs in.

Grant wraps an arm around me. "Let's go. Dad'll pick us up at the entrance."

With Grant at my side, we push through the crowd, not giving a damn that people are trying to talk to us and ask us what's going on. Hell, we don't even take an extra second to be polite. We're likeminded in one single purpose-to get to the truck and then to Boone.