Waylon flinches slightly, and I don’t know if it’s because of the worddateor that I got stood up. But either way, he reveals a kind and sympathetic expression.
“You found Waylon in the barn unconscious?” I prompt. “Did he wake up at all?”
“No, I carried him into my truck and sped to the hospital. I usually stay for lunch, but today I didn’t, and now I feel guilty as hell. If I’d been there, I woulda found him sooner.” He shrugs, and I can tell he’s fighting with his emotions.
“You can’t think about the what-ifs. It’ll choke you to death, trust me.”
The guilt I feel for trying to go up against a guy twice my size instead of letting him steal our belongings weighs heavy in my chest because of what it put my parents and sister through. The constant worrying, staying with me in the hospital for weeks at a time, and driving me to physical therapy for a year. That type of guilt doesn’t go away after recovery.
“I know, but I can’t help it,” he admits.
I’ve heard about Wilder’s past, all secondhand from Delilah, but I have a feeling it’s much deeper than what I’ve been told.
“Hollis?” The same doctor who spoke to my mom and me enters the waiting room and calls out for the family.
Garrett and Dena stand, as do the rest of the family, but I continue sitting to respect their privacy.
Realizing I should respond to Mystery Guy’s text now that I’m not so heated about him blowing me off, I grab my phone and click on his message.
Harlow: Sorry for not replying right away. I ended up having a family emergency and had to call an ambulance for my dad. He’s gonna be okay, thankfully. Hope your work thing got handled. If you want to reschedule, it might be a while before I can, but I’d still like to meet up whenever you’re free.
I’m probably being too nice and forgiving, but after what happened with my dad, I know I’d miss talking to him after spending the past month getting to know each other.
As the doctor speaks to the family, Waylon grabs his phone from his back pocket, looks at it, and then glances at me over his shoulder before putting it back.
“Is everything okay?” Mom grabs my attention with her whispered words, and I turn toward her, keeping my voice down.
“I dunno. He just started talkin’ to ’em.”
“Delilah checked on the dogs and now she’s on her way.”
“Okay, good.”
“She’s very upset.”
“I know,” I say, frowning.
Her texts were frantic with tons of questions I didn’t have answers to.
After Dad’s accident, she took on a lot of the responsibility as the oldest child. It was months before Dad got a power chair, sohis only form of mobility was his walker or wheelchair. He was weak and spent months in agony, so it was hard for him to hop.
Everything got worse after my incident because Mom was torn between being at home for Dad—who was still recovering from multiple surgeries—and being at the hospital for me—who broke multiple bones. Delilah took on a lot of the burden, making sure someone was always with Dad or me.
When Mom told her it was okay for her to finally move out two years ago, she felt guilty for leaving us. But she didn’t get to live a normal life for so long or focus on her own needs, so our parents nearly pushed her out. It was time she took care of herself.
Trick-riding was all she had to look forward to, and honestly, I think it saved her.
When a text message pops up, I smile at seeing his contact name.
But then it quickly fades.
Mystery Guy: I’m not sure rescheduling is a good idea. I’m sorry.
Chapter Twelve
Waylon
“He tookketamine?” I blurt after the doctor says they discovered the pills in Wilder’s pocket.
