Page 67 of Ride the Sky

Another buzz from my phone.

Another message.

Sent eight seconds ago.

Uneasiness curls in my belly.

I told you this would happen.

Early evening light shines through the kitchen windows. I’ve made a sandwich, locked the front doors, put Fallon’s bags in her room. Now I pace the hallway, every so often checking the microwave clock. I eye the bathroom door. She’s been in there for damn near fifteen minutes.

“Fallon?” I call.

No answer.

I lean back against the wall, cross my arms.

Damn if it’s not a strange new world I’ve been dropped into. Thirty minutes from my brothers, the ranch. Just me and Fallon. Before she left, Dakota issued me stern orders.My sister’s been through a lot. Do not let her get hurt.The death threat rang clear in every word.

Everyone’s counting on me to do this. Control Fallon. I can’t believe I thought this would be easy. A man trying to wrangle Fallon McGraw is like trying to cage a grizzly bear. You’re dead in under ten minutes.

Still, I’ll fucking fix this. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her. That she stays safe. That I’m by her side.

I won’t let her—or our family—down. Not again.

I cast another glance at the bathroom door.

My stomach twists.

What if something happened? What if she fell?

The image of Fallon lying on the floor of the arena flashes in my mind. Leaving her alone scares me shitless. Bad things happen. I can’t take the chance.

I left her alone last time, and look what happened.

I drag a hand through my hair, grip the back of my neck.

Christ, I’m losing it.

Another minute passes. Unable to take it anymore, I knock on the bathroom door. “Fallon?”

Silence.

“Fallon, I’m coming in,” I say and then swing open the door.

We both go stock-still. She’s half-crouched, hand propped on the lip of the bathroom sink next to her phone. Blue jeans down around her thighs. Rosy cheeks even though her face is pale. And her panties…fuck. Blue lace.

“Do you mind?” she snaps, breaking my reverie. “I’m trying to pee.”

Trying to give me an aneurysm, more like it.

I swear under my breath, glance at the contraption in the corner. “You’re supposed to be using the rails.” It’s going to be a long twelve weeks if she doesn’t listen.

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to use the rails.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “You’re gonna fall and break your other leg, and then I’m going to be pissed.” I take a step inside. “Let me help you.”

“I’m not a toddler,” she grumbles, shoving at me. But the motion wrenches her ribs, and she gasps in pain.

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