"Sierra. Talk to me. Are you okay? Did she step on you?"
My heart is hammering so hard I think it might break through my ribs. I could have died. That hoof could have crushed my skull, could have—
"I'm okay," I manage, but my voice shakes. "My ankle. I twisted it."
"Fuck." Wade's hands are already moving over me, checking for other injuries. "Anything else hurt? Your head, your back?"
"No. Just the ankle. And my pride." I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I got distracted and—"
"Don't apologize. Just don't move." He's cradling me against his chest now, and I realize I'm shaking. Full-body tremors I can't control. "You're okay. I've got you."
He holds me like that for a long moment, one hand stroking my hair, murmuring reassurance. Slowly, my heart rate returns to something approaching normal.
"Let me look at that ankle," Wade finally says, gently shifting me so he can examine my foot.
His fingers are surprisingly gentle as they probe the swollen joint. I wince, and he immediately lightens his touch.
"It's swollen but I don't think it's broken or badly sprained. Probably just twisted." He looks up at me, and there's guilt written across his face. "I should have been more careful. Should have kept you on a lead line for the first lesson."
"It wasn't your fault. I got distracted."
"By what?"
*By imagining your hands all over me. By wondering what you'd look like naked. By getting so turned on I literally couldn't focus on basic motor skills.*
"Just... thinking about everything I need to learn," I lie. "Got overwhelmed."
He stares at me for a moment like he doesn't quite believe me, but doesn't push. "Can you stand?"
I try, putting weight on the injured ankle, and immediately gasp. "No. Fuck. No, I can't."
"Okay. Don't try to walk on it. You need ice and rest." He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Which means you're out of commission for today. Maybe tomorrow too, depending on how it swells."
"No!" The word comes out too loud, too desperate. "Wade, I can still—"
"You can still rest and let it heal," he says firmly. "Pushing through an injury is stupid, and I thought you were smarter than that."
Tears sting my eyes, and I'm furious with myself. Things were going so well. We were actually connecting, actually building something. And now he's going to think I'm weak. Fragile. Another city girl who can't handle ranch life.
"I'm sorry," I say again, and I hate how my voice cracks. "I really wanted to prove I could do this."
Wade's expression softens. "Sierra. For a first time, you did great. Better than great, actually. I've known people who fell off three times in their first lesson and refused to get back on. You made it twenty minutes and only fell because you got distracted, not because you couldn't handle it."
"Really?"
"Really." He sits back on his heels, considering me.
"Have you ever thought about teaching people? Like, offering riding lessons as part of the ranch?" I ask him.
The question catches him off guard. "What?"
"We should diversify income streams. Riding lessons could be good money, especially for tourists or families in town. We've got the horses, the space, the knowledge."
He glances away. "I've thought about it before. But it feels like... selling out. Turning the ranch into some kind of tourist attraction."
"There's nothing sellout about it," I say immediately. "You'd be sharing your love for horses and ranching with people. Teaching them to respect animals and land. Those people could then share that appreciation with others, creating a ripple effect." I shift slightly, wincing as my ankle protests. "Why do you want to keep the ranch you love only for yourself?"
He's quiet for a long moment, staring at the arena dirt. "I'm afraid people won't get it. They'll see it as something funny to do once, then leave and never return. Like we're just entertainment instead of... instead of what we actually are."
