Confusion reigned in the arena when the bull charged a bullfighter. Then the barrel man. The pickup men cornered the angry animal and dragged it out with ropes.
He looked back, expecting to see Ryan on his feet, but he hadn’t moved. What the hell?
Distorted noise echoed through the loudspeaker system, the words garbled and grating.
Get up.
Chase wasn’t sure if he’d said the words aloud. His vision became a pinpoint focus on a too-still Ryan lying in the dirt.
Then the bullfighters and medical team erected a human tent around Ryan and he couldn’t see a damn thing.
Get up kid. Come on. Shake if off. Don’t scare your mama like this. Jesus. Don’t scare me like this.
More medical personnel raced over. A stretcher appeared. Then an ambulance. It never looked right, a ghostly quiet emergency vehicle slowly rolling across the arena dirt. No flashing lights, no wailing sirens, no rush.
The sound of spectators clapping as they paid respect to the person leaving via ambulance partially roused Chase from his stupor. Seemed as if he’d blinked and the next rider was up, and the rodeo was back in business.
He turned and literally ran into Ava. “Let’s go to the hospital. Ryan is probably freaking out. I imagine Jackie is already on her way.” He took Ava’s hand and they weaved through the melee of contestants leaving the event. She didn’t speak until they were in his truck.
“Will Ryan be okay?”
Chase shifted in the seat. “In small events like these, there are no med techs, so they automatically take injured riders to the closest hospital as a precaution. And Ryan is young. Old timers like Taz refuse to ride in an ambulance and find their own medical treatment. But I doubt a youngster like Ryan put up much of a fuss when they told him he needed to go to the hospital.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s explains a lot.”
They made the drive to the hospital in silence. He parked in the emergency lot, and it seemed to take an hour to walk through those emergency room doors.
Inside the hospital waiting room, Jackie paced in front of the windows. Ava hustled over and hugged her. “Any news?”
“No. They haven’t told me anything.”
“Did you call someone to wait with you?”
“My boyfriend is on his way. I won’t call the rest of my family until I know what’s going on. I appreciate you coming. I know Ryan will appreciate it too. It can be a group effort to chew his ass for worrying us once they let us see him.”
“Anything I can get you?” Ava asked. “A drink? Something to eat? A blanket?”
Jackie shook her head and continued pacing.
Chase wanted to bust through the swinging doors and get some answers. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he braced his shoulders against the cement wall, his stomach too queasy to pace.
Time dragged. The click of Jackie’s heels competed with the beeping machines that echoed from the nurse’s station.
Ava left him alone. She left Jackie alone too. The three of them were the only ones in the waiting room, but they might as well have been miles apart.
The doors opened.
“Jackie Ackerman?” a woman wearing blue scrubs asked.
“Yes. I’m here. I’m Jackie.”
The woman wandered over. Fatigue lined the skin around her eyes, but her face remained blank. “I’m Doctor Silsbee. I headed the team that worked on your son.”
“How is he?”
She paused. “I’m sorry but he didn’t make it.”
“What? Didn’t make it as in…he died?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. He coded twice and our attempts to revive him were unsuccessful.”
Every bit of blood drained from Chase’s face. He watched the doctor’s mouth move, but her words were muffled by the accelerated beating of his heart in his ears.
Silence. Then a switch turned on and sound blasted his eardrums.
“No!” Jackie yelled at the doctor. “No. It’s not possible. Ryan is just a kid. He’s tough. He’ll pull through. I know it.”
“I’m really sorry, Miz Ackerman. The trauma to your son’s brain was too severe. I can request a counselor or a clergyperson for you to talk to.”
“I don’t need a f**kin’ counselor, I need to see my son.”
Doctor Silsbee appeared to brace herself.
Chase felt himself splinter into two halves. One part stood there stoically, reasonably, wanting to help. The other part let lose a low-pitched wail that escalated into an unending scream.
“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Jackie shrieked. “How do I know this isn’t some big goddamn mistake and you’ve got Ryan confused with someone else’s kid?”
“Ma’am, we have verification from the ambulance crew who brought him in from the fairgrounds. I’m really sorry.”
“Bullshit. This isn’t funny! Take me to him. Now.”
Heartsick, and barely hanging on by a thread, Chase stepped between her and the doctor. “You don’t want to see him, Jackie.”
“Move out of my way.”
He curled his hands around her upper arms and said softly, “Look at me and listen.”
Something shifted in her. Jackie blinked pain-filled eyes and whispered, “But I have to see him.”
“No, you don’t. There’s no reason for you to do this to yourself. Don’t have your last memory of Ryan be what you see lying on a gurney. Because that image will overtake everything, even all the good ones. He’s not there anymore. That’s not him. He deserves better and so do you.”
“He can’t be dead.” She shook her head so hard her tears splattered his cheeks. “How can he be dead?”
Because he refused to wear a helmet. The stubborn kid might be alive right now if he’d listened to me.
Shame and guilt warred inside him at the ugly and callous words his brain tossed out. God. How could he even think that at a time like this? Ashamed, and fearing Jackie might see those thoughts in his eyes, Chase ducked his head and walked away.
A burly biker strode in and Jackie launched herself at him. Her raw sounds of anguish nearly knocked Chase to his knees.
He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but stand there helplessly and witness Jackie spiraling into debilitating grief.
Goddammit to f**king hell. He wanted to punch someone. Kick something. Hurt himself so the pain on the outside matched the pain on the inside.
Ryan. Dead. Eighteen years old. His life just starting. So full of happiness and joy. Now gone. That light forever extinguished.