She nodded, biting her lip as she looked at me.
‘Some of it was for Mom, as you know. About forty thousand is what she needs to pay for an ongoing supply of her new meds for the next few years. But the rest was . . . well, I don’t want to spoil anything. I think he wants to tell you himself.’ She smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. ‘But maybe . . . now, I don’t know. Maybe it won’t work out yet. I guess we need to focus on getting him better, right?’
I didn’t press her for more, just listened as Lottie came back over, repeating what the doctor had said.
Clara got up, heading out to call her mum and Belle, while Lottie sat next to me.
‘What I wouldn’t give for the NHS right now,’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘I know it’s not perfect, but at least people don’t go fucking bankrupt because they get injured.’
I told her what Clara had told me about crowdfunding, suddenly wishing there was a way I could help, maybe find a way to try to replace the money Jesse would lose. But without a visa to work, there was no way I could charge people for tattoos, even if I could do enough to amount to twenty or thirty thousand.
Lottie side-eyed me as I became quiet.
‘What are you think—’ she began, stopping as I gasped, an idea hitting me squarely between the eyes.
‘I can’t work yet here in the US,’ I explained, trying to stay calm as more and more ideas poured into my thoughts. ‘But I can give away tattoos, right? For charity?’
She frowned, not following.
‘I mean, I’d have to check, but yeah, I imagine so? But why?’
‘What if we did something for Jesse? A way of raising the money to pay for his hospital bill?’ I said, watching as her face changed, the idea dawning on her too. ‘If we all offer something up that people could bid on, like a charity auction, back in Jackson – locals and tourists. I could offer up tattoos. Maybe, if you and Lil don’t mind, we could offer a weekend stay at the ranch? Bailey might be able to give riding lessons . . .’
‘I fucking love it,’ Lottie breathed, nodding. ‘Who wouldn’t want to help Jesse? Especially with what he had planned . . .’
She tailed off, her cheeks colouring a little as she glanced at me.
‘What?’ I said, frowning. ‘What now?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, dismissing it with a wave. ‘It’s not for me to say. Let him tell you once he’s out of surgery, okay? Seriously, Hes,’ she added as I gave her shit-eye. ‘I don’t want to ruin it for him, okay? It’s nothing bad.’
‘Fine,’ I grumbled, pulling out my phone. ‘But we need to gather up as many prizes as possible – and see if we can find somewhere to host this, make a party out of it. C’mon now,’ I added, trying my best Wyoming drawl. ‘Y’all the best marketer in the state, or what?’
She snorted, already halfway to making a call.
‘Hope your powers of persuasion are better than your accents,’ she joked, dodging me when I tried to swipe her as she got up.
‘Rude,’ I murmured, smiling as she winked back at me.
Opening my phone, I pulled up the first person I could think of, tapping the call button.
‘Howdy, stranger! Hang on – are you calling from the UK? The dial tone sounded different?’
‘Um, not quite,’ I began. ‘Listen – I’ll explain everything, but Dee, I have a favour to ask.’
CHAPTER25
JESSE
I had to admit it: despite the surgery and the shitshow that was my shoulder and arm, the rest of me felt . . . good. Out of hospital and staying in a hotel nearby, I could finally get some sleep away from the constant noise of machines and other people. I still had to go back in for a few hours a day for check-ups and physio, but I would be ready to go home in a couple more days. It was one of the few downsides of living somewhere remote like Jackson – the hospital facilities just weren’t set up for major trauma.
It was late, but I hovered over the last messages from Hestia earlier today, rereading and smiling, hearing her voice through the fragments of our written conversation. The sheer fucking relief of being on the other side of losing her, of knowing she was waiting for me, right now, back in Jackson.
Goddamn, I wanted to call her, talk to her, touch her . . .
But she’d be tired. Lottie had hinted before they left that she’d be busy filling in at the ranch, and that I needed to focus on getting better – and back to the Diamond Back as soon as possible.
Desperate for a distraction, I opened my phone up to voicemail, still fascinated by the message from her ex, Cal. I’d listened to it a couple of times, the first with wary disbelief, the second with a sense of hope and relief so great that I’d hardly taken it in. A third time – for, what, confirmation maybe? – I tapped the play button.
