Page 90 of Reckless Skye

‘And then he knows exactly where you are at all times,’ TJ finished.

Skye didn’t argue, only whispered, ‘He’ll pay for this.’

TJ didn’t argue. He’d see to it, so just said, ‘Yes.’ But because he desperately needed to take the pressure off his back, he took a step back, said, ‘Why don’t you go shower? Grab what you need for the night. Update your friends. I’ll take first shift.’

She nodded once, coolly, and turned on her heel. But she stopped a few feet away, her back straight. She sighed loudly and without turning, said, ‘Thank you. I appreciate the help.’

TJ tried not to smile at her tone, which was one hundred per cent martyr-going-to-slaughter. But he felt that glimmer of his old cheek peeking through and had to ask, ‘How much did that hurt?’

‘You’ll never know,’ she shot back.

The moment she was gone, TJ let himself into Smokey’s stall. ‘Hi, pretty girl,’ he crooned. And when Smokey tossed her head in alarm, he didn’t change his tone, didn’t slow his movements, just said, ‘You’re okay. It’s just me.’

He lowered down to the floor, taking it one inch at a time as he tried to control his descent. From his butt, he lowered to his elbows, and then flat onto his back. The rubber stall mat, covered in shavings, felt good on his spine. As he lay there, his body militantly straight, his arms lax at his sides, the weight on his spine slowly decompressed. The pain ebbed slightly, and although it would only last twenty minutes or so before he’d have to wake up and change positions, TJ had learned the hard way to take every minute of relief he could.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep instantly.

He dreamed he was on the back of a bull again, his heart pumping furiously, his ears ringing with the sound of the music, the pounding hooves, and the crowd shouting his name. Although he didn’t see her, he knew Skye was there, sitting in the stands, wearing his hat. He could feel her. The sound of the buzzer made his heart stop. But he loosened his grip on the bull rope and dismounted fluidly. For one moment, he looked up, his heart light and free. But he saw Skye’s eyes, filled with fear, right before that impact hit him.

He woke up silently, keeping his back still even as he came out of the nightmare. His eyes opened. His spine throbbed from being in one position for too long. Except, this time, instead of being prostrate on some shitty hotel mattress, he was on his back in Smokey’s stall.

Skye was sitting against the stall door, her legs next to TJ’s feet. She looked up from her phone when TJ shifted, watched him like a hawk as he painstakingly pushed up into the most painful position for him: a seated L.

TJ dusted the wood shavings from his hair. And because Skye was still staring at him, he made a show of sniffing his armpit. ‘That bad?’

‘Ha,’ she replied dryly. But she put her phone down next to her.

They were both quiet for a moment.

TJ couldn’t help but soak up the proximity to her after all this time. Since his accident, he’d told himself over and over that whatever he’d felt for Skye had been too new, too tentative to put her through his injury and his failed recovery and pain management. But here, now, he remembered why pushing her away had cut him so deeply. A plant in its first cautious stretch out of the soil was still a plant. Maybe its roots still had to grow and strengthen; maybe it was more vulnerable to those elements in that initial stage, but the potential was there – it was there. Despite his attempts to convince himself otherwise, he thought he’d always known that what he’d felt for Skye had been real. It had been full of potential.

As if she’d read his mind, she said, ‘You know, TJ, I would have understood.’

He didn’t ask her what she was talking about. ‘I know.’

‘So, why?’ She shook her head lightly. But her eyes stayed dry. And angry.

‘Because you would have stayed.’

‘It was my decision to make.’

‘No.’

‘It was—’

‘You didn’t have the life experience to sign up for something like that!’ TJ snapped. He took a deep breath to try and calm the anger and the self-pity. ‘You were free for the first time in your life, and the last thing I was going to do was hold you back from that. Jesus, you were twenty-two fucking years old.’ He shifted, readjusting for the pain. ‘It took me six months, Skye. Six months to take steps without a goddamn walker. I couldn’t even use the restroom by myself for five weeks.’

‘You could have told me,’ she insisted, her blue eyes glinting. ‘I would have understood. Instead, you cut me off like I was just some random hook-up.’

‘I thought the anger would help,’ he explained, defeated. But there was another truth, one that he didn’t know how to explain to someone who lived free of chronic pain, and that was that, since the day he’d been hit by the bull, coherent thought often eluded him. Instead, every thought, every tiny movement – be it breathing, turning, or sitting down – was governed by torrents of agony that surpassed his mind’s ability to focus on anything else – even Skye. He wasn’t sure what thoughts had occupied his stream of consciousness before the accident.

‘Why now?’

It was a question she’d asked before, but TJ evaded again. ‘It’s time,’ he said simply.

‘What do you mean by that?’

TJ shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that I make things right. The fact that I hurt you is the only regret I have, Skye. But the way I figure it, we have the season to see that I make up for it, to get rid of your father, maybe even cinch a few arena records along the way.’