Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  Ten minutes later, they were slowing in front of an enormous hospital complex. The driver dropped her near the emergency department and she half-ran, half-walked to the entrance.

  A quick scan of the space oriented her—waiting area to the right, reception to the left. Evie made a beeline for the desk and waited for the nurse to finish a phone call.

  “I’m here for Tanner Harding. He’s a bull rider; they brought him in not long ago,” Evie said.

  “And who are you, ma’am?”

  “I’m a friend. Evie Forrester.”

  “I’m afraid we can only give patient updates to family members.”

  “I’m his girlfriend,” Evie said, not even hesitating over the white lie. “He’s got no family nearby. We’re in town for the Tulsa Invitational. Please, I need to know he’s okay.”

  The nurse looked torn, and Evie racked her brain for something else to say.

  “Dr. Freeman from the tour knows I’m coming,” she said, praying that Troy had spoken to the man.

  “All right, take a seat. I’ll make some enquiries for you.”

  The urgent need to have reassurance now made Evie open her mouth to push harder, but then common sense reasserted itself and she simply nodded and backed away. Finding an empty seat, she sat and wrapped her arms around herself.

  The image of Tanner’s still body being stretchered off the arena was on a loop in her mind. She reminded herself he’d been wearing a helmet, and that he was incredibly fit and healthy. He’d had medical care almost immediately, and right now he was probably surrounded by a top-notch team of doctors.

  None of it stopped reaction from settling in, making her whole body quiver and her teeth chatter. She clenched her jaw and got up to pace, rubbing her arms to try to calm herself.

  After fifteen minutes, she felt a little better and resumed her seat. A few minutes after that, a nurse approached the waiting area.

  “Evie Forrester?”

  Evie sprang to her feet. “Yes?”

  “You’re here for Tanner Harding, is that right?”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s doing okay. He’s conscious, but the doctors have sedated him while they investigate his eye injury. We suspect a fracture of the orbit, and they’re also concerned about trauma to the eye itself. And, of course, he’s also sustained a concussion.”

  “All right,” Evie said, nodding. Trying to take it all in. “When will you know more?”

  “It’s hard to say. But I’ll keep you posted if you want to stick around? Or we can call you?”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She wasn’t going to go back to Tanner’s hotel room while he was lying in here on his own.

  “There’s a coffee machine down the hall,” the nurse said kindly.

  “Thanks.”

  Evie resumed her seat. Then she pulled out her phone and sent Troy a quick text, conveying what she’d just been told. He’d been worried for Tanner, too, even if he had come over all big brother when he understood Evie was sleeping with the other man.

  She lost track of time after that. At some point she went to get a coffee. Around her, the emergency department ebbed and flowed, patients coming in, patients going out. She was dozing, her chin on her chest, when a light touch on her shoulder woke her.

  “Evie Forrester? I’m Travis Freeman, the tour doctor.”

  He looked to be in his mid-forties, with glasses and thick, dark eyebrows.

  “Is he okay?” she asked instantly. Then she realized how rude she sounded and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Nice to meet you. Is Tanner okay?”

  He smiled faintly. “He’s doing pretty good, considering. Resting comfortably at the moment. I’m not sure what you’ve been told—”

  “Suspected fracture of the orbit, concussion, query eye trauma,” she reeled off.

  “Okay. The fracture of the orbit is confirmed, but it’s a hairline crack and won’t need surgery. Best we can tell, the concussion is mild, and there is no bleeding or anything else we need to be concerned about. The eye itself is more complicated.”

  He gestured toward the seat she’d just vacated and waited until she was sitting before taking the seat beside her. “The blow to his eye has detached his retina. We suspect it’s a big tear, and I’ve already called an ophthalmologist colleague of mine in Houston who owes me a favor or two. He’s one of the best in the country, and he’ll be here first thing tomorrow to operate.”

  Evie blinked, processing everything he’d told her.

  “So, what’s the prognosis? Will he make a full recovery? Will there be permanent damage to his eyesight?”

  “We won’t know until afterward. The success rate for surgery is strong, and there’s a good chance he’ll get some sight back, even if it isn’t twenty-twenty.” He hesitated. “The major thing with this sort of injury, regardless of outcome, is the risk of recurrence. He’s going to have to be careful in the future. No blows to the head, regular eye tests. That sort of thing.”

  He was watching her carefully, and for a moment she didn’t understand why. And then it hit her.

  “He won’t be able to ride again,” she said.

  “No, he won’t. Not without risking permanent blindness,” Dr. Freeman said.

  His expression was sympathetic, and she knew he understood what this would do to Tanner. Because bull riding wasn’t just Tanner’s job, it was his life. It was how he defined himself; it was who he was. Living on the road, staring death in the face every weekend… It was his lifeblood.

  How did a guy ever move on from that kind of high-octane living? There was no way “normal” was ever going cut it for someone like Tanner.

  “He’s going to be out for a while, so if you want to go back to the hotel, get some rest, now’s the time,” the doctor said.

  “Can I see him?” Evie asked.

  “He’s sedated. He won’t be lucid for hours.”

  “I just want to see him,” Evie said.

  She needed to see for herself that he was whole and not in any pain or discomfort.

  Dr. Freeman gave a small nod and stood, and Evie followed him along a corridor to the elevators. They went up two floors, then wound their way through a series of wards until he stopped outside a private room.

  “I’m heading back to try to grab some sleep now. But the nurses have my number. If you need anything, if Tanner has any questions, you call me, okay? Don’t worry about the time.”

  Evie smiled her thanks. This man obviously had personal relationships with the riders he cared for and took his responsibilities as their physician very seriously.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me,” she said.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder before turning away. Evie faced the door, took a deep breath, then pushed it open.

  She took a step into the room and then stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the hospital bed. Tanner lay flat on the mattress, no pillows, his chest bare except for a couple of heart rate monitors that had been stuck to his chest. His arms lay loose and still on the bed linen, an IV snaking into one arm on the inside of his elbow. Layers of gauze wrapped his head, the padding over his left eye marking the site of his injury.

  He looked pale and utterly unlike the vital, confident man she’d gotten to know over the past few days. A lump of pure emotion got caught in her throat and she tilted her head back and blinked rapidly, denying herself the indulgence of tears.

  Her getting all weepy over Tanner’s injuries wasn’t going to help anyone or change anything. What he needed right now was a friend, someone to help him navigate the next few days while he came to terms with what had happened to him.

  He’d mentioned a mother and a sister, but her best guess was that it would take them at least twenty-four hours to get here, and his bull-riding buddies no doubt had travel arrangements for tomorrow, since it was the start of a rare hiatus in the tour schedule. They’d all be heading home to visit wives, children and families.

 
Which meant it was up to her to be here for Tanner, the way he’d stepped up for her when she’d needed someone to look out for her. Knowing him, he wouldn’t like it much. In fact, she could almost see the expression on his face as he told her not to worry about him.

  Well, tough. He’d rescued her, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Quid pro quo. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  Sitting in the chair beside the bed, she shuffled it a little closer, then reached out and took his hand. It was reassuringly warm, and she wove her fingers with his and took a deep, calming breath.

  Then she settled in to wait.

  Chapter Ten

  Tanner woke to blackness and a fuzzy sensation in his head. His first thought was that he’d hit the bourbon with the boys after the Invitational. That was the only explanation he could come up with for the way his head felt—as though it wasn’t quite attached to his body.

  He worked his tongue around his mouth, which was dry as dust. Something nagged at the back of his mind. Something important.

  He was supposed to do something last night, after the event. What was it?

  “Hey. Are you thirsty? They left some ice chips for you.”

  The sound of Evie’s voice made him turn his head, which was when he realized there was something covering his eyes. Something bulky and padded. He lifted a hand to push it away.

  “No, don’t. You need those,” Evie said, her hand catching his and pulling it away from his face.

  “Where am I?” he asked, because it was beginning to hit him that something big had happened.

  “St Francis Hospital in Tulsa. It’s Monday afternoon. You got kicked in the head last night at the Invitational,” Evie explained quietly.

  Her hand squeezed his reassuringly.

  “How bad?” he asked, the bull rider part of him already starting to assess how many weeks he’d lose before he could rejoin the tour. He was ahead enough on points that if he came back early enough, there was a chance he’d still qualify for the finals.

  “You have a concussion, and you have a fractured eye socket. They call it fracture of the orbit, but it’s the same thing. It’s hairline, so no surgery for that.”

  She paused, and there was something in her tone—or maybe it was her phrasing—that clued him in that there was more.

  “And?”

  “And you have a detached retina. An ophthalmologist flew in this morning from Houston to operate on you. That’s why your throat is maybe a little sore, from the anesthetic.”

  It was hard to think straight, questions slipping from his grasp before he could focus on them.

  “Dr. Freeman said he’d come by again at about three. That’s only an hour away now,” Evie said. “You want those ice chips?”

  “Thanks.”

  She released his hand, and he heard the clatter of ice being poured into something. Then she touched his hand again, pressing what felt like a paper cup into his palm.

  He lifted the cup and took a couple of chips into his mouth.

  “They said you might feel a little nauseous. How are you feeling?” Evie asked.

  The ice was cold and exactly what he needed to ease his dry mouth.

  “Fine. Did they say how long recovery time is for this sort of thing?”

  There was a short pause. “Um, I think you have to wear the bandages for a few days. No driving, reading, stuff like that for a few weeks. But the doctors can tell you all this.”

  He’d have to call Johnny B at the ranch and get him to fly in to Tulsa to collect him and his truck. Then it sounded like all he had to do was rest up and he could rejoin the tour.

  As injuries went, not a bad one. He’d definitely had worse, like the time he’d broken his collarbone. Or the time his rib had pierced his lung. Thank God he had good medical insurance. A lot of the riders didn’t, but he’d learned the hard way that the premiums were worth it.

  A new idea floated up and he managed to grasp it.

  “Weren’t you catching the bus to Santa Fe today?”

  “I canceled my ticket.”

  Because of him?

  “I’ll buy you another one,” he said. “You don’t have to change your travel plans because of me.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” Evie said, her tone as dry as the desert.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not going to just walk away and leave you in hospital. What kind of jerk would I have to be to do that?”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said stiffly.

  “Glad we agree on that. They said you could have a light meal if you were hungry.”

  There was a firmness to her tone that told him she wasn’t going to budge. He let it go—for now.

  “I could eat something,” he admitted.

  “Great. I’ll let the nurses know.”

  She returned a few minutes later with a cheery-voiced nurse with a thick Southern accent. She set him up with a tray of food before asking Evie if she minded helping him eat.

  “Of course not,” Evie said.

  “I can feed myself,” he said.

  “Really? You want to tackle soup right now?” Evie asked.

  He had a vision of himself with soup slopped all over himself.

  “What else is there?”

  “Some yogurt and a couple of crackers.”

  He sighed. The bed sagged a little and he guessed Evie had just sat beside him. The last time he’d been on a bed with her, she’d been limp and hazy-eyed because he’d made her come.

  “Okay, I’m spooning up some soup now,” she said.

  “What flavor is it?”

  “Chicken noodle. At least, that’s what it smells like.”

  Something warm and metallic nudged his lower lip and he opened his mouth to accept the spoon. It was definitely chicken soup, lukewarm and salty. He was hungry enough that he ate everything Evie offered him, then started on the yogurt. It took him a couple of goes to work out how to make sure he was getting the spoon in the container, but he was determined not to sit there and be fed like a baby.

  Especially by Evie.

  “You’re eating. Great sign,” a voice said from somewhere off to his left.

  “This is the ophthalmologist,” Evie said quietly. “Dr. Collins.”

  “You can call me Gary. Good to see you up and eating, Tanner. How is your pain?”

  “Pretty good.” The truth was, he didn’t have any pain, as such, although there was a full feeling around his injured eye that he suspected was going to hurt like hell once his meds wore off.

  “I’ve prescribed some painkillers for you for the first few days, then ordinary over the counter painkillers should do the trick. The surgery I did this morning was pretty straightforward. We repaired the tear in your retina using a procedure called a vitrectomy, with some laser thrown in for good luck. What this basically means is we drew the fluid out from behind your eye and replaced it with a saline solution, and used the laser to reattach your retina. It was a substantial detachment, so it’s going to take a while for your eye to settle down, both from the surgery and the trauma of your injury.”

  Jesus. They took the fluid out of his eye?

  “So, do you have to put the fluid back in again?” he asked.

  “Believe it or not, your body makes more. So over a few weeks, it will absorb the saline, and generate more vitreous.”

  “Will my sight be okay?” he asked.

  “We won’t know for a while, but we have a very high success rate with this surgery. If you don’t get your full eyesight back, it’s likely to still be very good. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves on that one.”

  Anxiety tightened Tanner’s chest. The prospect of having messed-up eyesight was not a happy one. It might mean he’d have trouble driving, running things around the ranch. The only comfort was that the one thing a bull rider stared at when he was riding was the back of the bull’s neck, and that was only an arm’s length away.
/>   “Any guess when I might be able to ride again?” he asked.

  Evie stirred beside him, her clothes rustling.

  “Travis told me that’d be one of the first questions you asked. Said you bull riders are tougher than dirt.”

  “I’m happy to do my rehab, but getting back on the tour ASAP would be my goal,” Tanner confirmed.

  “There’s no easy way of saying this, Tanner. With injuries like yours, there’s a high chance of recurrence, especially if the patient is in an at-risk field where it’s likely he’s going to be taking blows to the head and experiencing high-pressure situations, strong g-forces and the like. If you ride again, there’s a high chance you’ll lose your sight in this eye altogether.”

  The doctor’s words hit Tanner like physical blows, thudding into his chest. He could feel his heart racing as everything in him rose up to deny what he was hearing.

  There had to be another way. Maybe another doctor. A second opinion. Because he wasn’t ready to give up riding. He wanted another world title; he wanted his name in the hall of fame.

  He needed to ride to know he was alive.

  He felt the cool touch of Evie’s hand on his arm, then the slide of her palm against his as she took his hand. He closed his hand around hers, holding it tight, needing her touch to anchor him as he struggled to process what he’d just been told.

  “I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to hear, and I’m sorry about that. The good news is that I’m confident we’re going to get a good result on your eye. Now, I need to fly back to Houston tonight, but I’ll be available to talk to you or to your GP with any follow-up questions. The doctors here will talk you through your recovery when you’re feeling more up to it tomorrow, and I’ll get in contact with your local doctor to discuss follow-up care.”

  Tanner managed to pull it together enough to thank the doctor. After he’d gone, he felt the warm weight of Evie’s hand landing in the middle of his chest.

  “Your heart’s going crazy,” she said.

  He was practically strangling her other hand and he released it, pulling his away. She didn’t lift the hand resting on his sternum, and even though he really wanted to be alone right now, with no witnesses to see him trying to hold himself together, there was something about the steady, gentle weight of it that helped him center himself. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed to normal and Evie slipped her hand away.