Page 60 of Wild Rivals

Oh God, I need to let Wyatt know too.

Moisture pools in my eyes and I close them as I exhale heavily, overwhelmed by everything I need to do when I just want to be here for Daddy.

He’s going to be okay. He has to be. I don’t know how I can do this without him. There’s still too much he needs to tell me, to show me.

I need him.

I’m not ready to lose him.

I swallow around the lump in my throat as I look up again, searching the room for something else to focus on. Anything to ease this sinking feeling.

My eyes land on Wyatt as he walks through the door, and I sag with relief at the sight of him. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, like this might just be a fraction easier to deal with.

When he notices me, he crosses the room, a calming surety in his movements. I bolt from my chair and rush over to him, flinging myself against his chest like he’s a life vest in a stormy sea.

I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into his comfort, finally feeling like I can let go. My sobs are anything but soft. They’re gut-wrenching wails coated in my despair and torn from my throat.

Wyatt bands his arms around me, his hands soothing in circles on my back. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay,” he murmurs into my hair, the heat of his breath calming the uncertainty rising inside me.

When my sobs have died down, I lean back, allowing my vulnerability to shine through as I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks and ask, “What if he doesn’t make it?”

Wyatt pulls me back into him, one hand on the back of my head as he replies, “Don’t think about that. Right now, we need to focus on being strong and channeling that strength into him.”

Of course, he’s right, but it’s harder to do that in reality.

“I need to call my brothers,” I whisper into his chest, hating how small and broken I sound.

Wyatt guides me to the hard plastic chairs. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Crap. I didn’t think to grab it in my panic as we left, and I don’t know their numbers off by heart. Shaking my head, I press my lips together as I silently curse myself.

“Okay, let’s call the ranch.” He holds his phone out to me, and I dial the number for the ranch before connecting the call.

The sound of the line ringing is grating on my already sensitive nerves as I wait for someone to answer. What do I even say? My brothers aren’t as close to Daddy as I am, but I know they’d want to be here in case the worst happens. They’d never forgive themselves if they weren’t.

The call connects and Mona’s cheery voice sounds on the line. “Hartlands Ranch. Mona speaking, how may I help you?”

“Mona,” I rasp, a fresh wave of tears choking me and making her name come out a strangled, garbled mess.

“Maddie?” she asks, her tone tense before the phone is taken from my grip and I release the sob I was trying to hold back. Why is this happening? I still need him. I’m not ready.

Lifting my knees up against my chest, I watch Wyatt stand and move a few steps away from me as he takes the call.

When he returns, he pockets the phone and removes his jacket, setting it over my knees before sliding into the chair next to me and resting his hand against my back. It’s that small contact that grounds me, his strength seeping into me as we sit in silence. I don’t feel like I have to fill the quiet, but more importantly, I don’t feel like I have to carry the weight of this by myself.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but my head is resting on Wyatt’s shoulder when my brothers arrive. I stand and cross the room to them, walking into their open arms, steadied by the quiet reassurance Wyatt gave me. If he hadn’t been here, I’m not sure I would have made it.

“What happened, Mads? Mona just said Dad was in the hospital and to get here as quickly as we could,” Deacon asks, his gaze bouncing around my face as if it might contain the answers he’s looking for.

I suck in a sharp breath as I look between my brothers, each of them staring back at me with worry filling their features.

Running a hand over my throat, I croak out, “He was at my place and talking about my date and the next thing I know, he’s on the floor.” A tear slips free as emotion clogs my throat.

Deacon reaches out and pulls me into his arms. I take the comfort he offers as my tears soak his T-shirt.

“Have you heard anything since you arrived? Do they know what happened?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’ve heard nothing.”