Page 146 of Dust Storm

I squeezed his hand. “Christian?—”

Ray laid in the dirt. Lifeless.

Bodies flooded the arena. Marty, a team of medics, and support staff leaped to action.

I felt Christian jolt behind me.

My heart was racing. Blood rushed in my ears like a tidal wave. “Baby?—”

Realization slammed into Christian like a freight train, and he roared. “Ray!”

“Go,” I said, letting go of him. “I’ve got the girls.”

Christian threw himself over the barrier. Nate and CJ were right on his tail as they ran across the dirt.

Bree and Gracie turned in a panic. Claire broke away from Becks to tend to them, but they were already clinging to me.

30

CHRISTIAN

Sirens screamed as we floored it to the hospital. The back of the ambulance jostled, shaking the containers of supplies.

I tried to sit still and stay out of the way, but it was an impossible feat. We were crammed in like sardines. Two medics worked on Ray, monitoring his vitals, checking and double-checking the breathing tube down his throat. His vest was back at the arena, and his shirt had been cut up the front.

His black and blue abdomen was streaked by patches of skin colored in by washable markers. I held his hand, careful of the pulse oximeter on his finger, but it felt like holding a corpse.

Patches with wire leads were placed on his chest and hooked into a monitor.

The neck brace and straps held him still as we came to a skidding halt at the emergency room doors.

I followed the paramedics in, keeping a hand on Ray as he was rushed in and evaluated.

Then all I could do was wait.

The entrance to the waiting room flew open as my family piled in.

“Where is he?” My mom was shaking, hanging on to my dad like her life depended on it.

I took my hat off and dug my fingers into my hair. “He’s in surgery. I don’t know anything yet. They were talking about broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding.”

Her weathered hands trembled as she cupped them over her mouth. “H-He wasn’t m-moving.”

There was no use sugarcoating it. She knew the reality of the situation as well as I did. “He landed on his head. Even if…” I choked up and couldn’t get the words out quite right. “Even if he wakes up…”

“Christian—” Becks ran in with Nate behind her, carrying a car seat.

CJ was next, arriving with Marty, Ray’s manager.

Where was Cassandra?

I repeated the spiel I gave my mom to the rest of the crew. Marty stepped away and started making calls. Becks and momma hugged. CJ took a seat in the corner with my dad, saying nothing at all.

Which left Nate.

“This isn’t on you.”

“I know it’s not,” I clipped, just a little irritated that he would make that comment. I started to pace. “I didn’t tell him to get in the ring. I didn’t tell him to be a fucking bull rider. In fact, I told him the opposite quite a few times. I didn’t?—”

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