Page 126 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t a rough fall.

This was wrong.

“Fable.” Harleigh’s voice barely registered.

She was talking—I could see her lips moving, her hands reaching for me—but the words weren’t landing.

“—bad . . . move . . . breathe, Fabs . . . he’s⁠—”

I was going to be sick.

No. No, no.

My chest seized, my stomach twisted violently, and suddenly the shark cage around me felt like it was closing in.

“Get me out of here.”

I choked on the words, slammed my palms against the metal, fisted the bars.

“Get me out, get me out, get me the fuck out!”

I needed out. I needed to get to him.

The door had barely popped open before I ran.

I sprinted through the dirt, my boots slipping, my legs burning, but my vision was locked as I ran behind the chutes.

Please, please, please⁠—

As I skidded to a stop, my stomach plummeted.

The ambulance doors were already shutting.

No.

A pair of strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, stopping me before I could run forward, before I could⁠—

I collapsed into them, my chest heaving, my mind screaming.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Beau.

I blinked up, barely registering the strong grip still holding my shoulders.

“You must be Fable.”

I dragged my eyes up, meeting the same dark brown gaze I’d stared into a thousand times—only older.

Beau’s dad.

The long, unkempt hair, the sharp cut of his jaw, the broad shoulders—he was him.

Or Beau was him.

My throat was thick with too many emotions to name. I tried to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come.