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“I can do that.” Teague had enough on his plate, taking care of the ranch.
Teague laid a hand on Butch’s arm. “You okay?”
Butch gave him an inquiring glance.
“Well, you and Diana… I mean…”
He sighed. “That was also a long time ago. And I’m quite capable of talking to her husband.”
“Then I’ll go up to the house. Lord knows I could sure use a beer right now.”
Butch managed a smile. “Save one for me. I won’t be long.”
Teague nodded, and Butch waited until he was on the path before he looked up the number for Newt and Diana’s dude ranch.
Yet another soul about to be crushed by devastating news.
The whole time Teague was on the phone, no one on the patio spoke. All eyes were focused on him, and Butch swore every single man there was holding his breath. When Teague finished the call, he let out a long sigh.
“Well?” Butch demanded.
Teague pocketed his phone. “She’s still unconscious.”
Groans rippled through the assembled men.
“How long can she stay like that?” Zeeb stared at him. “It’s beenhours.” The sun had set about an hour ago, but no one had moved.
Everyone was waiting for news.
“The doctor told Toby it could last as long as twenty-four hours. They’re doing a CT scan to—”
“Haven’t they done X-rays or something?” Matt hadn’t eaten a bite.
“He said X-rays don’t help much in cases of head injury. They use CT scans to check for skull fractures and… brain damage.” Teague caught Butch’s eye. “That fluid you saw? Toby said it was cerebral spinal fluid.”
“What does that mean?” Paul asked in a hushed tone.
“It means it’s fucking serious.” No sooner had the words left his lips than Butch gave Paul an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge. Hell, I think we all are. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”
Paul’s dark eyes were warm. “You don’t need to apologize. I get it, honest. We know you and Diana were…”
Butch didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to talk, period.
“I think I’ll go back to the bunkhouse,” he said, rising from his chair. He glanced at Teague. “If there’s more news—”
“I’ll let you know,” Teague assured him.
Butch’s feet—and his heart—were like lead as he walked down the path.
Lord? You can’t have Diana, you hear? It isn’t her time. And I’ve already lost too many people who meant something to me, so you’re not getting her too.
Maybe arguing with the Almighty wasn’t the best way to get prayers answered, but Butch wasn’t firing on all eight cylinders. He knew his Salvation family were there for him, butdamnit, what he needed right then, they couldn’t provide.
I want someone to hold me. Comfort me. Kiss away my pain.
His heart quaked.
I want someone to love me.
