The Bull Rider's Homecoming

“I can’t stand any of that stupid ‘stretch this way’ and ‘push against here’ nonsense.”

Gunner returned his gaze to the papers. “So you’ve got this all figured out then. You’ll just heal on your own and be back to break new bones next season.” Gunner looked so much like their father it made Luke want to kick something. As if he could. It had been so hard to get his boot back on after Ruby left that the frustration was eating him alive.

“It’s worked before.” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Come on, this isn’t the first time I’ve come up hurt.” It wasn’t. But it was the first time he had come up hurt this bad.

“No,” Gunner replied as he closed the ledger and shoved it back into a drawer. “But forgive me for pointing out this is the first time you’ve come home.”

Luke’s teeth ground at Gunner’s words. That was just like his big brother to cut right to the marrow without mercy. Luke fished for a good comeback, and came up empty. Instead he found a nail in the wall beside him and began to wiggle it loose.

“I know you.” Gunner went on. “I’ve been you. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t your last chance.”

“This is not my last chance,” Luke shot back as he yanked the nail from the wall. He glared at Gunner’s lousy, end-of-the-road choice of words. “I figured it was time to show up, that’s all.”

“That’s a load of bull, and you know it.” Gunner met his glare with one of his own. “How about you just stop pretending this isn’t a major setback?”

“It’s not a major setback.” Now he was really starting to sound like a five-year-old. Go ahead, Gunner, don’t hold back. Go for ‘career-ending’ why don’t you? You won’t be the first, and right now I’d love a reason to punch you. He threw the nail into a nearby barrel and found another one to work loose.

Gunner grabbed his hand on the nail and gripped it tight to hold it still. “Don’t you get it, Luke? No one here cares whether or not you ride next season. Whether you win the tour next season or world championship the season after that or never get on a bull again. This is your family. You don’t have to go all ‘big shot’ on us. You surely didn’t have to go all ‘big shot’ on Ruby or anyone else.”

“Nobody needs to baby me!” Luke yanked his hand out from under Gunner’s, the nail underneath leaving a small scrape on his palm. He shook his hand and then sucked on the wound while turning to head out the barn door. Every inch of him wanted to storm out, but his slow gait made it impossible.

“More bull. You’re hurt. Bad, if I had to guess—and I have to guess, don’t I? Because you’re not saying anything.” Gunner walked up and stood right in front of him now, his softened expression even worse than his previous glare. “Luke,” he said, in lower tones, glancing back toward the big house as if keeping his words away from prying ears, “just how bad are you hurt? Really?”

“Nothin’ to tell,” Luke dodged, shrugging.

“I don’t buy that for a minute. Talk to me. It’s eating you alive, man, even I can see it.”

His brother’s words started up a war in Luke’s chest—the need to talk waging battle with the need to keep everyone from knowing. His surgeons and even the local doc had been sworn to secrecy. His agent didn’t know the whole of it. If even a hint of this ever made it back to his sponsors...

“Don’t know,” he said finally, feeling rattled by even letting that much slip out.

“Of course you know.”

“No, I mean I really don’t know. Nobody does. It’s not pain. I’d be better if it were just pain. It’s...” He’d kept it bottled up for long enough that it fairly boiled inside him, desperate to get out. “I don’t feel anything. The nerves—they’re shot. At least for now. And nobody knows if they’ll stay that way.”

Gunner was wrong. It didn’t help to tell someone. It felt as if saying it aloud let the facts take root in the real world instead of just infesting his worries. The weight of not knowing felt heavier than ever.

Luke took a step toward his brother, hating how much effort the action involved. “So all the stupid therapies in the world can’t change the fact that I may have fried my leg, get it?” He hissed the words like the threat they were. “Either the feeling’s coming back or it ain’t. I’ve got no say in how this ends. None.” He jabbed an angry finger at Gunner and his infuriatingly compassionate expression. “So forgive me if I’m not a ball of sunshine about the whole thing. I need to beat this. I need to get my leg back. I need to show the whole tour that I am not washed-out for good.”

“Luke...”

“Don’t!” Luke shot back. “Don’t you dare give me that ‘don’t give up hope look.’ I can’t take that from you. Or from Ruby, or from anybody.” He started making his way back to the guesthouse, needing to get out of the open space where anybody could watch him limp. A thought turned him around—why did it always take so much effort to turn around?—and he gave Gunner the darkest look he could manage. “Not one word to Gran. Or Ellie. Or anyone. Understand?”

Gunner held up his hands. “I get it. They ought to know, but if you don’t want...”

“Not one word,” Luke repeated, turning back toward the house.

Gunner’s voice came after him. “Ruby knows. She’s got your file, so she knows, doesn’t she?”

Luke just kept walking.

Chapter Four (#u469d60a5-5bb2-5165-bc90-08a27085c2e4)

“You came back.”

Ruby couldn’t read the look on Luke’s face Wednesday morning as he opened the guesthouse door. Was he surprised, pleased or irritated? Likely all of the above, she decided. “Yes, I am. Surprised?”

At least he’d met her at the door, not just left it open as if she were some stray animal allowed to wander in. It was easier this time—she’d survived the initial shock of seeing him. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to see him again, and now she knew. He had less power over her composure now. Oh, he could still set her stomach tumbling with one look—a gal would have to be dead not to feel something when those brilliant blues met hers—but the tumble was something other than attraction now. Nostalgia? Regret? Pity?

Whatever it was, Ruby knew it wasn’t anger. Determination, maybe, but not anger. “Clock’s a’ ticking, cowboy. Are you going to let me in or are we going to chitchat in your doorway?”

Luke scratched his chin. “Yes, ma’am.” Clearly he wasn’t expecting the “all business” version of Ruby today. He gestured her inside, but stood where he was so she had to sidestep close to him to gain entrance. Classic Luke, Ruby thought as she set down her bag. Always going for the swoon.

Well, today was business. She pointed to Luke’s sneakers. “I see you took my suggestion.” She’d shown him grace and compassion on her last visit, because he deserved it. He’d admitted a weakness to her in the business about the boots, and she knew how hard that was for him. Today, she’d make him work, and she hoped her request for athletic footwear gave him a hint of what to expect.

“I do know how to cooperate,” he teased, flashing a smile.

“Is that so? Give me thirty minutes before I agree, will you?” She found the chair he’d sat on last week and moved it to the center of the floor. “Have a seat.”

Last time, it had taken Luke almost a full minute to acquiesce and sit down. Ruby had no intention of letting it turn into a battle of wills this time. Instead, she dropped her bag to the floor as if this were no big deal, sat down at the foot of the chair the way she had before, and began pulling equipment out of her bag. She didn’t even look up at Luke. Instead, she adopted an air of expected compliance, fiddling and arranging her equipment until he settled himself uneasily in the chair in front of her. See now, that wasn’t so hard for either of us.

Ruby positioned his feet. “Raise your toes, one foot at a time.”

He scoffed. “I figured we’d start with something a bit harder than toe touches.”

“Ankle flexing,” she corrected, “and you’ll get the hard stuff when you’ve earned it. Plus, you have to answer questions while you do them.” She placed her hand a few inches above Luke’s feet, giving him a target. He easily tapped her palm with his right toes, but struggled to hit her palm with his left. “Any tingling or burning sensations in the morning?”

“No,” he replied. “Are you married?”

Startled, she looked up at him. “What?”

“You get a question, so I get a question. Fair’s fair.”

Ruby sat back. “That’s not how this goes.” She returned her hand to above his feet. “Again, please, five times each.”

Luke began the exercises, but launched a running commentary as he did so. “I’m guessing no, on account of I’d probably have heard about it if you were. And your name’s still Sheldon.”

“Lots of women keep their names when they marry these days, Luke.” She noticed his left foot was raising lower and lower with each attempt. Numbness aside, Luke had lost a lot of muscle strength.

“Maybe, but not you. You’d be Mrs. Whoever. So there is no Mr. Whoever, is there?”

Ruby grabbed Luke’s ankles and gently tugged them toward her. It was time to let Luke know she wasn’t putting up with any antics. She could throw him off balance—literally—anytime she chose to do so.

“Whoa,” he yelped as he gripped the chair to keep upright. “A little warning, if you don’t mind.”

“A little courtesy, if you don’t mind. Toes in and out, making a V, ten times. Count them out, so you won’t be tempted to flap your jaw.”

With just a touch of repentant rascal in his eyes, Luke complied. When he finished, she offered, “I’m single. And fine with it, I might add, not that you’d understand.”