panic that accompanied them weren’t something she could face again.
Trevor was just hanging up the phone when she stepped into the kitchen. She’d kicked her boots off on the porch, so he didn’t hear her stocking feet on the hardwood floor.
“Is he conscious?” he was asking.
Sarah stopped. His tone was hushed, as different from his usual bantering tone as it could be. Dread coiled in her stomach and she reached out and touched a hand to the counter to keep her balance.
“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.” He turned and caught sight of Sarah. “I’ll send somebody right over.”
He clicked the phone shut and set it on the counter, then lowered his head and closed his eyes as if marshaling all his strength.
“Lane’s hurt,” he said. “Bucked into the fence.”
Sarah felt heat behind her eyes. “Is he okay?”
“Dunno.” Trevor’s face flushed and his lips whitened, as if he was holding back emotion. “It’s a head injury. They’re working on him, but he’s unconscious.”
She pictured him in an ambulance and felt her lungs squeeze shut. The thought brought back the pictures she’d been trying to avoid—a man killed by an animal. Roy in the driveway, Roy in the ambulance, his ruddy skin gray and lifeless.
No. Lane Carrigan was upright and vital and most of all, strong. He couldn’t end up that way. She couldn’t let the fate that had taken away Roy steal the only other man she’d ever—loved?
That couldn’t be right. Hell, she wasn’t even capable of love. Lane had given her every reason to love and trust him, and she’d still blamed him for her reception in Two Shot. Blamed him for what had happened to her family.
“Oh, God,” she said to Trevor. “When he left—I said terrible things to him. I need to get to him. I need to tell him I didn’t mean it.”
She hated herself even as she said the words. Trevor was losing his best friend, and all she could think of was herself. But she couldn’t stop replaying their parting in her head. She’d told Lane to hit the road and he’d walked away without defending himself, sparing her the pain of knowing the truth.
She needed to tell him she knew about Flash, and that she was sorry. Picturing him lying in the dirt of the arena, hurt and helpless, she knew there was one more truth she needed to face. One more puzzle piece in her future she needed to slide into place.
She loved Lane Carrigan. He couldn’t possibly love her back—not after how she’d behaved. Even a good man had his limits. But she needed to tell him.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Casper,” he said.
“Casper? Where was the rodeo?”
“Humboldt.”
“But…” She paused, stunned. “He said he was going away. Staying somewhere else.”
“Yeah, he said he was going to stay in the trailer, then leave for Amarillo tomorrow or the next day.”
So he’d had nowhere to go. He could have stayed at the ranch.
“Why?”
The minute she asked the question, she prayed Trevor didn’t know the answer. Hopefully Lane hadn’t told Trev she was a basket case, that she was delusional, that she blamed him for all her problems and he was afraid to be alone in the house with a crazy woman. Because that was the only reason he would have stayed in the cramped trailer instead of his own cozy Love Nest.
“Dunno.” Trevor shrugged and spun the chair away from the counter.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. One thing about rodeo cowboys—they were not given to introspection. It was a quality she’d often criticized, but right now she was grateful for it.
“Can you drive the van?” Trevor held up his hand. It was shaking like an aspen leaf in a high breeze.
“Sure.” She was shaking a little herself, but Trevor didn’t need to know that.
Lane did, though. Lane needed to know everything.
She was through with keeping secrets.
Chapter 39
Lane blinked, squinting his eyes against a glaring white light. He’d expected to wake up in the arena, possibly to an enormous hoof descending on his head or a high-speed view of the crowd flashing by as he hurtled through the air. But all he saw was light shimmering around him, plus occasional shadows, blurred at the edges, that came and went.
The light. He’d heard about that. It meant he was dying. How the hell had that happened? He pondered that question a while, remembering the bull, the flight through the air, and the metal fence post. Oh, yeah.
He was supposed to go toward the light, right? But he