He sucked in a quick, useless breath.
“Not like that,” I said. “In. Slow. Out.” I breathed with him, exaggerated it so he could follow. “Again. In. Out. Boone’s got us.”I’ve got you.
He shook once, then again, but he listened. His breathing hitched, then evened out, his weight settling back as if he’d finally realized he didn’t have a choice, and Boone wasn’t going anywhere.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “You’re fine. Boone’s solid. He won’t let you fall.” He relaxed a bit further, one shaky hand holding the cloth to his nose. “Hold the saddle horn,” I told him. When he hesitated, I set his other hand where it needed to be.
He sucked in a breath, shock giving way to something like disbelief as Boone stepped off, and I guided us back toward the road, one hand on the reins, the other keeping Lucas steady in the saddle. Colt crossed our path on the ATV, so I guessed it was Miguel who was driving the truck. As we neared the ranch and slowed, Colt’s gaze flicked from Lucas’s bloodied face to my grip on him before meeting my eyes. He hesitated, just long enough to clock that I had it under control, then nodded once.
“You need paramedics?”
The urgency that had driven me to get him off the ridge as fast as possible had bled away. We could have waited by the truck, handled it more slowly, but adrenaline made idiotsof even the most level-headed men. “Better than it looks,” I muttered. “Colt, I want this ridge fenced off, from the road.”
“Got it, boss.”
“And other signs. Bigger.”
Colt was confused—after all, the sign we had was huge. Way big. But as per usual, he didn’t question me.
“On it, boss,” he said, and then they left.
Lucas shifted against me, wincing. “My dose dis boden,” he said thickly, the words pushed out through blood and swelling.
I huffed. “Your nose is fine,” I lied, needing him upright, breathing, and not spiraling.
He subsided into silence again, leaning back into me as the fight drained out of him.
We headed the short distance left to the barn at a steady walk. Boone knew the way and didn’t rush it, ears flicking back once as he checked on us. When we reached the barn, I headed straight in and dismounted first, boots hitting the ground hard, before I turned and lifted Lucas down.
I didn’t think about his small, lithe body sliding along mine as I set him on his feet. I didn’t let myself register how light he was, or how he clung to me for balance, or remember his expression when he was coming in my arms. I didn’t want to smooth the errant curls that framed his face in case they got bloody.
Nope.
Not at all.
“Fuck,” he muttered and weaved on his feet.
“You’re okay,” I told him, steady and sure, becausesomeone had to be, even if I hated the man. “We’ll sort the rest in a minute.”
I turned back to Boone, ran a hand down his neck. “I’ll be right back,” I promised him, before guiding Lucas toward the barn doors. He stumbled once, but all too soon we were back in the house, and I led him into the kitchen and made him sit down.
“You broke my dose!” he accused me when I stepped away, and for a split second I couldn’t decide if that was unfair—or exactly the point. “Sh-cared de shit outta me! Assh-hole!”
I grabbed the medical box and set it on the table, then pulled out my phone and scrolled back to photos from last spring. I held it out so he could see.
“Here,” I said, flat. “We lost fifty feet right there.” I zoomed in, traced the curve of the land with my thumb. “See how it bows underneath? That’s new erosion.” I looked at him then. “All that was holding you up was sheer fucking luck.”
Chapter 21
Lucas
Ihadn’t almost died.
That was the lie my brain kept circling, trying to land on something solid. I told myself it had been close, sure, but not real. Not serious. But it lodged somewhere under my ribs and refused to leave.
I didn’t know this ranch. Not really. I knew the numbers, the acreage, the asset sheets I’d memorized late at night when sleep wouldn’t come. I’d learned how to measure land and reduce it to a figure that fit neatly into a spreadsheet. What I didn’t know was how fast the ground could give way, how quiet danger could be, how easy it was to trust the wrong thing because you wanted a better look.
Almost dying did that to you. It made you pause.
