Falling For A Cowboy. Karen Rock
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opened his mouth to say something, but just then a deafening flash-bang splintered the fizzing air. The sky lit up and lightning burned through a nearby tree, amputating a crane-sized branch. It crashed with deadly force inches from their feet. Burnt wood and sulfuric fumes rose.
The sky growled, low and ferocious, readying for another salvo. Goose bumps broke out across her skin.
Jared gestured. “Come with me!”
Amberley nodded. No time to argue. He laced his fingers in hers and together they slid and stumbled through the howling tempest. The streaming air launched debris at them, hard bits of wood whizzing fast enough to strike with maximum impact. When a trail marker sign winged at them, she didn’t spot it fast enough to duck and it bashed straight into her forehead, sending her to her knees. She clutched her stinging face, and her fingers came away a sticky, blurred red.
She felt dazed. She shook her head to clear it, but the move only shot a bolt of pain through her. Without a word, Jared scooped her up in his arms, held her tight to his broad chest, and jogged down the trail until the outline of the old schoolhouse appeared. She grasped her thrumming head, afraid it’d either fall off her shoulders or explode if she didn’t.
Without pausing, Jared kicked open the door, shoved it closed behind them, strode inside the dark interior, then lowered to a tottering wooden chair at the front of the room. All at once, the world muted itself. The now-muffled rain snare-drummed softly on the roof. The fangless wind batted against the rattling windowpanes. The dank, musty space closed in. Their ragged breaths mingled. Beneath her ear, Jared’s heart galloped and the hands smoothing up and down her back shook.
She’d never sensed Jared flustered a day in his life, and for some reason this scared her as much as anything.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” he murmured, low in her ear. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”
She stiffened.
“You’re safe,” he crooned in a rumbling, husky voice.
Enough. She didn’t want to be safe. Least of all because of someone else rescuing her or seeing her at her weakest. Even worse, that person was Jared.
She wriggled free of his arms and faltered back a couple of steps. Her hands groped the emptiness behind her, a new habit, to feel for what she couldn’t see. Frustration and helplessness brewed in her belly, toxic and nauseating. When her fingers encountered the soft edge of an old desk, she leaned on it, testing her weight partially, before trusting herself to sit atop it.
“Let me.” Jared brushed back the hair sticking to the gash on her forehead. Something dripped from her temple. Warmer than water.
She’d never fainted in her life. Yet suddenly, a light-headedness stole over her, and she grasped the edges of the desk with both hands.
“Stop.” She jerked away and nearly cried out from the pain. A red drop splattered on the dusty floor.
Jared pivoted with her. “Hold still.” He flipped off her hat, grasped her chin in one strong hand and studied her. A deep longing to see his amber eyes seized her. Yet if they held pity, she’d rather not know. “This is going to need stitches.”
She started to shrug and realized that even the slightest movement made her head whirl and her stomach revolt. “A flesh wound,” she said, trying to joke, a reference to one of their favorite Monty Python movies, but her voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old boy’s.
“Not funny, Amberley,” Jared growled. “You could have gotten yourself killed out there.”
He pulled something from his back pocket, wrapped it around her head and tied it in the back. It smelled like him, she thought, breathing in the crisp cotton, clean soapy smell. His lucky bandanna, she guessed.
“So what if I had?”
He knelt in front of her and gathered her hands in his. Though she tried to stop them, tears of pain welled. She didn’t cry easily. In fact, she could count the number of moments on one hand. The time her glasses got knocked off and she’d had to crawl around on the playground looking for them while other kids laughed. And once when she’d dislocated a shoulder during a barrel racing accident. Then the day they’d buried Daddy.
“Well, if you’d gotten yourself killed, then I would have lost my mind,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, almost a croak.
Her frog prince. Back.
Only she didn’t want him anymore.
She didn’t want anyone.
Not even herself.
At least not who she was now.
She screwed her eyes shut. Jared brushed at her damp lashes with his thumbs, the gesture so tender it ached. “Your mother told me about your eyes.”
A painful lump formed in her throat.
“Amberley, talk to me.”
She stood. Halting steps carried her to the window. Although she couldn’t see much in the writhing darkness, she imagined the tumult and wished it’d sweep her away, too.
“I want to go home.”
Jared joined her. When his fingers laced with hers, she jerked her hand away. “Charlotte told me you’ve been having trouble for a while now. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
She shrugged.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to.”
Because I couldn’t bear for you to think less of me.
To pity me.
“Why? I’m always here for you.”
“I can manage on my own,” she fired back.
“But you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“We’re a team.”
Only when they were both equal. But those days were over. “Not anymore.”
“Just tell me what I can do, Amberley.”
“This isn’t about you, Jared,” she snapped.
“The heck it ain’t.” She flinched at his suddenly angry tone. In all their years, they’d never fought. Not seriously. Sure. They’d had their share of good-natured arguments from time to time. Squabbles. Bets. Competitions. Rivalries. But this? It was foreign and felt every kind of wrong.
Still. She’d rather he be angry than sorry for her. Angry meant you mattered. Pity? That rendered you inconsequential.
“We’ll get through this.”
“Get through this?” She pressed her burning forehead against the cold glass. “I’m going blind, Jared. I’m never getting through this.”
He cupped her shoulders and turned her slowly. “There’s got to be a cure,” he insisted. “Surgery. A donor list. Didn’t I hear once—something about cadavers...”
“Stop.” She put her hands over her ears. “Just stop. Everything comes easy to you. Heck. You’ve never had to work for just about anything in your life, so I get your not understanding this. But I.” She poked a finger in his chest. “Am. Not. Getting. Better.”
“So you won’t even try?”
“I just want to be left alone.”
“What’s that mean? Holing up in your room? Hiding out from the world? Ignoring your friends?” He cleared his throat. “Me?”
“It’s not hiding. It’s being realistic. Facing facts.”
“About what?”
“That I can’t do anything anymore.”
“You can do plenty.”
“Not