He wasn’t even all the way through the hospital door when he found her fully dressed and sitting on the bed with one leg dangling over the side and the other leg with the cast elevated.
“Trip already called. Now I want you to give it to me straight. How bad is Tenterhook?” she asked.
“I brought you some balloons,” he said. He forced his voice to be more chipper than he felt. He wasn’t exactly sure how she would take the news.
“Thanks. But let’s stay focused.”
He smiled. “I am focused.”
“Tenterhook? Trip said you had a second opinion from another vet. How bad was Tenterhook injured that he needed a second opinion?”
She wasn’t going to let it go. That much was clear. All things being considered, Kas didn’t blame her. He remembered what it was like to sit in that hospital bed and be told that he was never going to ride a bull again. That all his hopes of being a champion were gone.
In that moment, all seemed lost to him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think of anything beyond what he’d lost. What was worse was he couldn’t even react the way he wanted to. He wanted to punch something or throw something and scream at the top of his lungs. He screamed because he hadn’t been able to do anything else with a broken neck and a halo screwed to his scull to keep his neck mobilized.
“Tenterhook has a coffin bone fracture,” he said bluntly.
Tabby slumped back in bed. What little hope she’d had just seconds ago when she gazed at his face looking for answers was now gone.
“Did both veterinarians suggest euthanization?” She’d choked the last word out.
“No. Neither did. Trip must have told you that.”
Hope was back in her expression as tears filled her eyes. “He did. I thought he was lying.”
“Really. I’m not going to lie. And you know that it is a serious injury. But Sean Knight seemed hopeful Tenterhook would at least be able to heal enough for riding. He could live a long life as long as he’s taken care of properly.”
“But no competing,” she said soberly.
“It’s still too early for that. It’s going to take a long time for him to heal and he needs continued care.”
“That I can’t afford.” She blew out a quick breath and rubbed her hands over her face. “Veterinarian bills are expensive. A lot more than I can afford especially since now I have hospital bills to pay for, too.”
“Don’t worry about Tenterhook. He’ll be taken care of.”
He wanted more than ever to wipe that lost look from her face by saying everything would be all right. But he didn’t know that for sure and if he said it, he would be lying. He’d already promised her he wouldn’t.
“I suppose you’ll be leaving for New York soon. I mean, since you’re done with your business at the ranch.”
“No. I still have business here. I’ll be here for a while.”
She nodded. “You’re looking at other horses to sponsor now that Tenterhook is no longer in the running and Mad Dog isn’t breeding? Or maybe another bull to invest in?”
Her disappointment was profound and he felt powerless to change it.
“I’m always on the lookout for stock to invest in. It’s part of what I do. A small part anyway.”
“What do you do?” she asked, suddenly distracted from her disappointment. He used this moment to bring her out of her depression over the situation.
“I buy companies that are failing. If I can rework them and make them profitable, then they continue on. If not, I break them up and sell them piece by piece.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“How did you go from bull riding to company chopping?”
He chuckled at her chosen term for what he did for a living. “It was as far away from bull riding as I could get.”
“But you’re not. You still invest in stock.”
“After I started making money and I was completely healed of my injuries, I realized how much I missed the sport. It was the only way I could keep doing something I loved. I knew that if I were still in Montana, I’d get the itch to get on a bull again. My doctor told me if I did, I could risk breaking my neck again and this time I could die from it. So I left. I couldn’t be around the sport for a long time without it tearing me apart. Now I can.”
“Levon said you own a hockey team.”
“I do. Part of it anyway. There are several owners. I have a small share. What can I say? I love hockey.”
“But not as much as bull riding.”
He shrugged. “It’s a different kind of rush.”
Tabby nodded and then drew in a deep breath and eased herself off the bed, wincing as her leg went over the side of the bed and dropped to floor.
“Were the balloons to make me feel better for losing out on your sponsorship?”
He glanced at the balloons and for the first time questioned whether he’d made a good choice. Balloons were usually celebratory. Tabby wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. But she would eventually. She just didn’t know it now.
“The balloons were for you to give Tenterhook. He’s feeling a little blue without you.”
She glanced at him and frowned. Then she chuckled softly. He liked hearing her laugh again. He wondered how long it would be before he saw it again.
“That sounds like something Levon would have said to me. Tenterhook will probably like them.”
She got up from the bed and grabbed the crutches the nurse had left for her to use. She fiddled with them for a bit and then grunted with frustration. “I already hate these. It’s a good thing they set me up with a walking cast because as soon as I am able I’m ditching these things to
