“Fine, I think.” She tilts her head from side to side in slow motion. “Yeah, fine.”
“No pain, discomfort?”
She takes some time to consider my question. “My head hurts a little.”
“But your neck and your back feel okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Cautiously, I guide Daisy’s arms over my shoulders and hoist her up, her back supported by one arm, her legs hooked over the other.
“I can walk,” she says, half laughing.
“Not chancing it. Your balance is probably shit right now, anyway.”
“Rude.”
One horse snorts behind us, and I catch the concern in Daisy’s furrowed brows.
“I’ll let him know where they are, Daze.”
I make the short trek back to the barn, powering through the muscle burn. It must be the adrenaline turning me into some kind of trail-accident triathlete. A screen door slams, and the owner zips out, worry in every corner of his face. Daisy’s grip on me tightens, and her head bobs into my arm as I tell the rancher where his horses are and ask him to open the passenger side of my car.
When I set her in the seat, Daisy looks out of it—it’s probably the shock setting in. I want to teleport to the hospital, because I need her lying down, with a doctor checking her vitals. When I buckle her in, I catch her wary eyes tracking me.
“You okay?” I ask, checking in.
“Mhmm.”
It takes ages to get to the ER, even going at least fifteen over the speed limit. Daisy shakes her head when we pull into the lot, muttering, “I can’t go in.”
“You need a doctor, Daze.”
“No, please. I hate it in there.”
This is different from her usual defiance, and my heart sinks when I realize why. The hesitation in her body, the fear on her face…I don’t know what it was like when her mom died. Daisy told me about the wreck—her mom swerved to avoid a coyote, lost control, and collided with another car—but she didn’t tell me about the immediate aftermath. How long did Daisy pace those cold hospital halls? Did she arrive and get the bad news instantly, or did Amy hang in there for a few hours before the end?
My gaze locks on Daisy, regretting what she went through and that she went through it alone. Not alone—but without me.
Grabbing one of her hands, I say, “I’m with you. We’re together, okay?”
Her eyes are glassy as she looks between me and the doors. Eventually, she nods, her arms encircling my neck as I carry her inside.
We get checked into a room right away, much to the dismay of a few people in the waiting area. Other than a form I fill out with Daisy, the nurse gets most of the information verbally and enters it into the system. The doctor orders a few tests, and when they escort Daze to get a cautionary CT scan, I take my first breath since that horse reared and she tumbled off the saddle. My adrenaline has sucked up my last drop of energy, but I’m too wired to relax. I lean against the wall and stare at the ceiling, taking deep breaths as I avoid thinking about how much worse this could have been.
“I got here as quick as I could.” Gwen rushes into the room, the fabric of her oversized dress waving behind her. Daisy asked me to reach out to her when we arrived, and ten seconds later, Gwen responded. Something clicks into place, seeing an old friend who’s as frazzled and worried as I am.
Gwen stares at the empty bed, and her expression falls. “Oh, no.”
“She’s okay,” I say, taking a step forward and folding her into a hug without a second thought. “Getting a CT scan, and she’ll be back here soon.”
“Okay. Okay.” She exhales, gripping me tight. “What happened?”
I rehash the events as she nods with every piece of information. When I tell Gwen how Daisy slumped to the ground, I swallow the thick dread of reliving that moment.
“I’m glad you were there.” Gwen lets out a measured exhale. “I’ll also need to have a few choice words with that snake.”
“I can make that happen.”
