“Don’t think he’ll need it. I’ve seen enough to know. You cowboy up, son. I’ll bring him home. He’ll be fine.” Yeah. Yeah, okay, he could count on Coke. He might could even stand Coke to see him. Maybe.
“Thanks, man. I’ll have Momma pick y’all up in Abilene. Tell him… Tell him we’re waiting.”
“No need. I got Bax’s truck, and I will. It helped him, Jason. Talking to you. He’s missing you bad. I’ll talk to you soon.” The phone went dead, leaving him sitting there, listening to nothing.
“Coke’s bringing him home.”
He heard Momma’s sigh. “He’s a good man. You just let me know when, son. Jack, we need to get Jason some water.”
“I’m fine, Momma.”
“Uh-huh. Water.” Nagging old woman. He did love her.
“Here you go, son.” Jack was solid, salt of the earth, and completely whipped.
“Thanks, Jack.” He hunted the glass a second, but got it, only spilling a little. “Coke says it doesn’t look like surgery.”
Coke said talking to him had helped.
“Well, that old fart has seen more riders come down the pike than most.” Jack clapped him on the back, and momma put something food-y into his other hand, and he just sat and tried not to think on Bax hurtin’.
Tried not to think on how a damned fine year was turning into something… Something else.
Chapter Thirteen
Bax woke up when the truck stopped. He sat in the back seat, his leg stretched out longways on the seat, the cast all propped on pillows. Lord, he was groggy and his mouth tasted like cotton.
Stupid fucking bull. Stupid fucking leg. At least he’d won the event, covering all three bulls with a high score of eighty-nine.
“Coke? We’re home, right? I’m not hallucinating?” God, his voice sounded like shit.
“No, son. We’re at Miz Scott’s.”
They pulled in, Momma and Jack pouring out of the house, Momma wrenching the car door open and looking at him.
“Andy. Son. Lord, you worried me. So glad you’re home.”
“Hi, Momma.” Oh, she looked tired. About as tired as he felt. Poor Brenda.
“What did the Doc say? Are you hungry? I made y’all supper. Coke, honey, you’ll eat chicken and dumplings, won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. How’s Jase?”
Momma’s face fell, and she shook her head, lips tight.
“That good, huh? Well, help me inside, so I can see for myself.” He’d gotten crutches, but the Doc didn’t even want him using those for nearly two weeks because of the shoulder he’d separated the night Jason got hurt.
“Sure, honey.” She reached for him, and he heard the sound of a swat.
“Woman, last thing we need is you hurtin’ yourself. Let me and Mr. Coke do it.”
Momma’s eyes went wide and she blushed.
Dark.
Well, well.
Bax blushed a little, too, not wanting to think on that too much. He let Coke and Jack haul him out, carrying him easily to the house. Strong old bastards.
