Page 7 of Bull Riders Don't Swoon

He doesn’t try to fight back.

Griff simply nods and squeezes my hand before we both enter the ambulance.

“I can drop by later with a pizza if you’re up for visitors.”

The line is quiet, but Griff finally answers. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Do you need me to pick anything up for you? Library books, new porn?”

The quiet chuckle is my reward, and my shoulders sag. “I think I’m okay for both. A pizza and human company sound good, though.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

It’s only been five days since Griff went to the hospital, but it feels like five years. He needed thirty stitches along his calf where the bull’s hoof grazed him enough to cut deep. But he also knocked his head hard and, while not concussed, it was still a head injury that came with a massive headache.

He’s been ordered to rest and keep off his leg as much as possible. Since then, he’s been in his dorm room and keeping to himself.

And it’s been the longest stretch I’ve gone since I met Griff that we haven’t seen each other. Pizza doesn’t seem like enough to say thank you for saving my life, but what else can I do for him?

If he hadn’t caught me and rolled us out of the way, that two-thousand-pound bull was coming straight down on my back. If I weren’t dead, I would have wished I were, and my career would be over.

After stopping to get his favourite pizza, I quickly duck into the campus store and find a ‘Get Well Soon’ card with a giraffe wearing a scarf and a thermometer in its mouth. It’s something that Griff would absolutely laugh at. Borrowing a pen, I scribble a quick note and shove the card in my pocket before winding my way through the dorms to Griff’s.

“Knock, knock,” I call and slowly turn the handle before poking half my face through the door. “Are you decent?”

“Does it matter? You’ve already got your head inside. Get in here.”

After closing the door behind me, Griff sits up from his pillow mountain and slides to the edge of his bed. He eases his bandaged leg up onto a chair and attempts a smile. After placing the pizza on the bed next to him, I plop onto the floor and flip the pizza box open.

“I got your favourite.”

Griff’s mouth twitches in a small smile. “You don’t like sausage on your pizza, though.”

“I can pick it off. More for you.”

“Thanks, Jamie.” He gives me a tired smile, and after grabbing a slice and taking a few bites, he finally looks like the friend I miss.

“Um, so are you still hurting a lot?”

Griff tilts his hand back and forth and swallows. “Some. It’s an improvement, though. Doc said I could take the bandage off today and start with slow movements until the stitches come out.”

“And the head?”

“It’s okay. I had a bitchin’ headache for the first few days, but that’s good now, too. How have your practices been?”

“We just had the one, and it was in the weight room.” Griff nods, and silence settles between us. “Will you ever be back, Griff?” I whisper, and he jerks his gaze to mine.

“Why would you ask that? I don’t want to quit.”

“I guess I wasn’t sure. It was scary, and we haven’t talked much since it happened. How are you…you know…mentally?”

Many rodeo men have walked away from the sport when traumatic things happen. I read about it after the paramedic told me to monitor Griff for any behavioural changes.

He picks at the sausage on his pizza before he replies.

“I acted on instinct to protect you, Jamie. I really didn’t think about what I was doing except that I was keeping you safe. That’s my job, and I’ll never let you down. I’m fine. Yes, it scared me, and I thought about the what-ifs for a few days, but as long as you ride bulls, I’m going to be in the ring to protect you.”

A lump wells in my throat that’s definitely not from the pizza.

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