Page 37 of Wilder

He sighed. “Sorry. I just wanted to keep you in the loop before you found out some other way.”

My stomach dropped.

I did not like the sound of that.

At all.

The last time someone had said something like that to me, it hadn’t been good news. My grip tightened around my phone. “What happened?”

Laken hesitated—just for a second. Just long enough that I nearly snapped at him to speak.

And then, finally, he said, “Pelly got sick.”

What?

I instantly pushed off the door, my body going rigid. “How sick?”

Another pause. Too fucking long.

“We’re not sure,” he admitted. “Sully was up early doing some paperwork in the office when he saw she was laying down in her stall. She apparently got really sick in the middle of the night. Made a mess of the whole stall. A few of the other horses got sick as well, but none of them were found laying down.”

My heart started pounding hard, my breath catching in my throat.

Laying down?

That was bad for a horse.

That was real bad.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay even. “Tell me he called Teddy to come out and do an emergency look.”

“Wilder actually loaded her up into the trailer and took her over to the equine hospital.”

I sagged against the front door, relief rushing through me so fast I nearly dropped my damn phone. Smart thinking on his part.

Damn good thinking, actually. There was no sense in taking any chances. Because whatever was going on, it wasn’t just some minor bug. If Pelly was down, if she’d been sick enough to make a mess of her stall, if other horses were starting to show symptoms, too⁠—

This was something that needed to be handled fast.

My fingers curled tighter around my phone.

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

“Not sure. We’re checking the feed since a few other horses got sick also, so I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my chest tight with unease. “And thank you for calling me. Sorry for being a bear.”

I hated the not knowing.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm. He got it, he knew I wasn’t really mad at him—just anxious, wound too tight, too wired to think straight because of which horse was being affected. “It’s okay, Asher. I know how much she means to you. That’s why I didn’t mind volunteering as tribute to call you.”

“I appreciate you.”

“Thank Wilder. He was the one who woke me up.”

My heart squeezed.

I really, really didn’t want to read into that.