Fearless Read online

  Mason sneaks up behind me, flicking my hat and slipping around my side, wiggling his fingers up by his grin on his way to her desk. “Hey, June Bug.”

  She perks up, eyeing Mason like a fancy purse on sale. “Make that the King brothers.”

  He leans his forearms onto her desk, swooping off his hat and plopping it onto her head, June giggling as she adjusts it. Mason winks, plucking a sucker from the jar between her phone and desktop computer.

  “Adam in the back?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder, taking a small step past her desk and trying to keep all evidence of any physical discomfort off my face.

  Maybe Mason was right and we should’ve brought a chicken with us as a decoy.

  June’s head snaps my way. “Yeah. With a patient.”

  Mason makes a show of tearing the wrapper off the sucker in one loud, crinkly move, throwing it dramatically over his shoulder. “What’ve you been up to, June Bug?”

  June melts a little his way when he starts smiling at her, not noticing me inching closer to the door that leads to the exam rooms. She practically dissolves into a puddle in her chair when he starts doing…things with his sucker. “Oh, just working.”

  “Yeah?” He eyes her up and down. “What time you get off?”

  I risk another wince-gritted step.

  “We stop seeing patients at 4:30, but I’m usually okay to leave around five…”

  Another silent step forward, then I peek back at Mason, popping the sucker in his lips. His eyes flash my way in the signal for go before he melts it into an overly dramatic eye roll that’s supposed to be cute. “Well…” he stretches out as I carefully push open the swinging door. It squeaks, and June’s head starts to turn until Mason vaults up onto her desk, sitting on all her shit. “You ever gone mudding in a Ram Rebel?”

  She makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, and I slip through the door.

  Damn, that was close. He isn’t as good at that as he used to be.

  I check around, and I don’t see Adam, but I don’t see anyone else, either. The sharp sting of antiseptic is nearly choking me, but it’s nothing compared to the sour smell of dog puke, and it doesn’t take long before my eyes start watering at the combination.

  I limp down the hallway, past the empty exam rooms with open doors, and through another double set that says “STAFF ONLY” in red letters.

  “Hey, Adam,” I call out when I head inside, gagging on the even stronger stench. Christ, how does he do this every day? “You back here, man?”

  “Billy? That you?” He pokes his head around a corner, then the rest of him follows, wearing navy-blue scrubs and a stethoscope hanging from his neck. Eagle Scout smile is still the same, though. “Hey, man. I didn’t know you were back in the States.” He walks my way, holding his arm out. When I take a step to meet him there, his face falls as soon as he sees me limp. “Aw, buddy!” He jogs over but still shakes my hand before he claps me on the shoulder. “Whatcha do? Crash your bike again?”

  I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “Nah. And better question: what’s that smell?”

  Adam laughs. “Yeah, I had a dog go exorcist on me earlier, poor guy. Why don’t we, uh, head into one of the exam rooms. Little fresher.”

  “Actually…” I hate that I’m about to do this, but I’ve known Adam since high school football, and he’s a real good guy. Even came home to open up his veterinary practice when he probably could’ve made more money setting up shop somewhere else. “You got an X-ray machine, right?”

  He levels a look at me, glancing around even though it’s just the two of us back here. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, well…you think I can maybe…borrow it?”

  Adam scoffs. “No, you can’t borrow it. It’s an expensive machine, man. What’s wrong with you?”

  I stare at him pointedly. “I’m kinda hoping the X-ray will tell me that.”

  “Cheese and crackers, Billy,” he says, and that’s bad in Adam language. “Straight up, dude, I’d love to help you, but June’s right. I’m a vet, not a people doctor.”

  “I know that, but I can’t go to a people doctor.”

  He raises his pointy chin, all his Eagle Scout morality come to play. “How come?”

  This time, I’m the one who glances around for eavesdroppers. “Look, it’s complicated, and basically, I gotta keep this quiet.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He shifts his weight, fidgeting with his stethoscope. “From Taryn?”

  God, does everyone in this town have nothing better to do than worry about other people’s business? “No, not from Taryn. She knows.”

  He tilts his head, examining me like I’m lying even though I’m not. Family reputations will do that for you. “And what’s she say?”

  “She says I need a damn X-ray, man.” My patience is all about chewed up, even though I’m the loser asking for a favor. “You gonna help me out or not?”

  Adam rolls his eyes, maybe because he’s still the same shiny Eagle Scout, or maybe it’s just pity. Either way. “All right, come on.”

  He claps me on the back and helps me toward the far corner where there’s a bar-height table that reminds me of a prep station in a restaurant kitchen. Except there’s also a pole sticking up the back, supporting a laptop off to the side, and something attached on top that looks like an orange lunch box. That’s it?

  Mason pokes his head past the door into the room. “Hey, I miss it?”

  Adam looks over while I hop up onto the table. “Well, if it isn’t the Muskrat himself.”

  Mason flips him off, still sore about his nickname from when he was getting hazed as a sophomore on the varsity football team. Which I promised to fully and completely forget so long as not a whiff of this gets back to Frank, Santos, or anyone else at the circuit.

  Adam lifts my leg and sets my foot on the metal table.

  I wince, gritting my teeth through my words. “How’d it go?”

  “How do you think it went?” Mason grins. “Got me a hot date. But I think I’m coming down with something.” He fakes a couple of coughs, then grins like it’s funny while both Adam and I scowl his way.

  “You aren’t talking about June, are you?” Adam says.

  I flare my eyes behind his back. If Mason blows me getting this X-ray, I swear…

  “Ah, man, I was just joking.” Mason bats his words away. “I’ve had a crush on that girl since I was in Sunday school. Can’t wait to take her out. It’s like a dream come true.”

  Christ. He’s laying it on way too thick.

  “Well, all right.” Adam looks at me as I get started taking off my busted-up boot, the human lie detector clearly not falling for Mason’s crap but letting it slide. “Just as long as you don’t pull anything like you did at prom, ditching Sarah Summers in front of everybody just so you could make out with Laura Baker. Juniper’s a nice woman.”

  Mason crosses his heart. “I’m taking her out to dinner at the Palais Madeleine”—he waves his hand and dramatically bows, Adam letting out a low whistle and my wallet already hurting—“then I’m taking her mudding. I’ll have her home before my chariot turns back into a pumpkin, lickety-split.”

  Woman’s probably not gonna cross her doorstep until after sunrise. She’ll have a good time, though. Gotta give Mason that much—he may never date a woman twice, but he shows them a hell of a fun time.

  Adam starts messing with the laptop, typing in a whole bunch of stuff that makes the orange lunch box start to whizz and hum. Christ, please don’t let there be anything there.

  “It’s too cold to go mudding,” I tell Mason, needing to distract myself.

  “Shows what you know.” Mason scoffs. “It is the perfect temperature to go mudding.”

  Adam chuckles, fixing the machine over my ankle. “Spring’s better.”

  I point at Adam, looking at my brother. “See? You’re no
t gonna get any good spray when the ground’s frozen with frost.”

  Mason huffs. “Where the hell am I supposed to take her then? I’m already taking her to dinner.” He thinks for a minute, then claps his hands like he’s got it. “How about the bowling alley?”

  “No,” Adam and I say at the same time.

  “Closed anyway,” he adds.

  My brow furrows. “For real?”

  “Mm-hmm,” he says to me. “Duke Bricker had a stroke three weeks ago and died. His family’s selling it.”

  “Damn, I didn’t know that,” Mason says. “Hey, how much they want for it?”

  Adam looks at him with all the cynicism I feel surrounding the matter. “Why? You gonna buy it?”

  “Maybe,” Mason spouts off. “I’m working on diversifying my portfolio.”

  That’s the funniest damn thing I’ve heard since the first time his Ram Rebel pulled up the driveway. I crack up laughing, Adam along with me.

  “Y’all don’t got a three-inch dick between the two of you!” Mason storms off, his middle finger raised in the air. Whatever. He’ll be back.

  Adam steps away to put on a smock, still laughing when he comes back. “All right, man. You ready to find out what’s behind door number three?”

  I wave him on. “Rooting for the lifetime supply of Beefaroni.”

  “Aren’t we all.” Adam goes back and forth between the laptop and the X-ray machine, the lunch box clicking. After a second, he checks over his shoulder like he’s making sure Mason isn’t listening. Then he looks to my ankle, blowing out a breath and shaking his head. “Dang, man. Doesn’t that hurt to walk on?”

  I let out a tight laugh. “Yeah. It does.”

  He turns my leg a bit so he can get the side, then positions the thing over it, clearing his throat. “You know, Taryn was in here a couple of weeks ago.” I look up, but he’s looking at the orange lunch box. “Said she was looking for a buyer for Aston Magic.”

  My pulse takes off, and I instantly start sweating, though it isn’t the first time I’ve heard about this. Especially since I’m the indirect cause of it all.

  I tug at my hat a bit, suddenly itching to get out of here. “Yeah, I don’t know if she’s gonna go through with it.”

  “Well, I didn’t have any names for her.” He straightens, pushing the machine away. “You can put your boot on. I’m gonna go print these out.”

  “Thanks, man. I really appreciate you doing this.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.” He pats me on the shoulder, and I wait until after he walks away to even start thinking about trying to put my boot on. It always feels like I’m gonna pass out whenever I do. I’m actually really looking forward to getting home so I can ice it and rewrap it like Taryn did. But that’s gonna have to wait.

  Lynn Hargrove texted me before Mason and I left the house, asking if I was gonna come by and ride Gidget today. Said he seemed kinda lonely. About broke my already shattered heart.

  It’s not fair that I’ve been neglecting riding him just because I haven’t been doing so great, ever since Up-Chuck Buck’s. I’m hardly sleeping, starving when I sit down to eat, then pushing my plate away after a couple of bites because I’m too nauseous to swallow.

  I’ve been trying to accept that me and Taryn are really broken up this time—trying to reconcile my actions with my reasons and the never-ending windfall of consequences—except it doesn’t even help that it feels real now. It just makes it worse. She’s all I think about, our last conversation playing on repeat in my head as I wonder what she’s doing, if she’s out riding her bike or her horse. Wondering how long it’s gonna be until she dances with someone new.

  I hope he’s nice.

  I hope she hates him.

  With a loud burp as his only warning, Mason comes strolling into the room, popping the top on a soda can like he ducked out for a smoke break instead of stomping off.

  “You about done throwing your little fit?” I ask him, forcing myself to get my damn boot on, and Christ, that fucking hurt.

  Maybe she’s right, and I should get some new ones. These are comfortable, though.

  “What are you talking about?” Mason slurps his soda. “I was thirsty.”

  I shake my head as Adam comes in, jerking his chin at Mason. “Sure you can handle seeing your brother’s X-rays, Muskrat? If memory serves, you got a fussy tummy, and I don’t need you yacking on my stuff.”

  “Pardon me, Dr. Doolittle,” Mason sneers, “but I’m the best damn bull rider in the state of Tennessee. I ain’t afraid of nothing.”

  “Yeah?” Adam pulls his phone out of his chest pocket, unlocking the screen and messing with it for a second. Then he shows it to Mason. “What do you think of that, hot stuff?”

  Mason turns green. “Oh God…” He turns and bolts the way he came, a second door blowing open in the distance before the faint sounds of the highway traffic drift in and out.

  I turn to Adam. “The hell you got on your phone?” He shows it to me, and I nearly choke from laughing so hard. Figures a hog giving birth would make Mason toss his lunch. “Nice, man.”

  “Hey, not nearly as cool as what you got going on here.” He tucks his phone into his pocket, then turns to what I thought was a whiteboard and clips up two big X-rays. He flicks a switch, and the whiteboard glows to life.

  I blow out a breath. “What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

  Adam crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re dying.”

  “What?”

  He laughs, turning toward me. “Dang, dude. Lighten up.” He walks over to the board and points. “Okay, you see all this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is good. Healthy. All that milk your mama’s been serving you at breakfast and supper has done your body real good.”

  “So…I’m fine? Why’s it swelling, then? Hurts like a bitch.”

  “Well,” he drawls, sucking his cheek until it clicks. “You see this skinny white line, kinda like a lightning bolt shooting down your ankle?”

  Right where everything hurts the most. “Yup.”

  “That’s where you broke it.”

  Fuck.

  She was right.

  * * *

  I continue waiting next to Gidget, leaning against his shoulder as he stands under the grand old oak tree in the front yard. The crickets stopped chirping about a month ago, but if it weren’t so cold, they’d be starting their nightly run right about now. Sunlight’s been pulling back from the treetops for a good twenty minutes, the sky orange and red like it’s burning. But the cold blue of night is coming in from the east, and it isn’t slowing down for no one.

  Gidget huffs, and I hand over another slice of the apple I’ve been whittling for us. “Sorry, bud. Shouldn’t be much longer, then we can go.”

  I shrug my jacket a little tighter around my shoulders, cutting off another slice of apple and looking to savor the crisp burst of juice since I’m missing dinner. But the flavor’s all muted. I check the fruit and it isn’t rotten, but nothing’s tasted right lately.

  “That taste funny to you?” I hold out another slice to Gidget, who takes it happily and is already nudging my hand for more. Until the front door blows open.

  “What are you—” The rock skids on the porch planks, her steps stopping short just outside the door.

  I keep my hat and head down, but Gidget looks up and swishes his tail so it whips me in the ass and the back of my legs. I keep staring at the grass, my heart pounding as I close my knife, then slip it into my pocket along with the rest of the apple.

  As fast as I can, I turn and swing up into my saddle, trying not to spend any time on my ankle if I can help it. Still hurt like hell, though. I grit my jaw through the pain and remind myself not to set that foot in my stirrup, taking up Gidget’s reins and trying with everything in me not to look.

  I swore to m
yself I wouldn’t say anything. But out of the corner of my eye, I can’t help but watch as Taryn bends and picks up the piece of paper I had set under the rock. Damn if she isn’t wearing my third-favorite set of pajamas: a faded Baylor sweatshirt that hangs off her shoulder because she cut off the neck and a green pair of my boxers she stole.

  First favorite is one of my old baseball jerseys that’s got my last name on the back and really isn’t long enough for her to wear with nothing else, but she does anyway.

  Did.

  Something in me starts to hurt that definitely isn’t the apple, and I give two clicks to Gidget and turn him away, starting the long walk back to Hargrove Ranch. It isn’t the first time we’ve walked it. Usually, it’s a lot darker. I don’t really mind the sunset tonight, though. I could use the time to think and spend some time with my buddy. No questions about what I’m gonna do next, no judgments for the decisions I’ve made. To him, a little bit of quality time together is worth his weight in feed.

  “Billy,” Taryn calls behind me, and I almost don’t stop.

  Almost.

  “Hold up, bud,” I whisper to Gidget, half turning him toward Taryn, but we’re definitely not walking back.

  She’s made it clear where she stands, and I’m gonna respect it. She said not to call her, and I haven’t. But I thought she’d want to know, and since I’m not gonna text her like that’s an acceptable exception, I brought it over. Probably could’ve left before she came outside since I anchored it with a rock, but I wanted to make sure she found it.

  Taryn’s got her hand over her mouth, her other holding the paper copy of my X-ray in front of her. When she looks up, her hand comes away and kinda pauses in midair like the list of things I’ve done wrong is so long, she can’t figure out which one to get mad at first.

  Finally, she exhales, shifting her weight and shaking her head, and I have no idea what she’s gonna tell me to do now. Whatever it is, she’s not happy about having to say it.

  “When you get down off Gidget, don’t swing your leg over backward like you normally do. Bring your other leg forward.”