CHAPTER 93

west

Y ou could hear a pin drop as pickup men managed to push Rampage away from Jackson.

He wasn’t moving.

He just lay there.

Not. Moving.

The breath shot right out of my lungs as the temperature in the arena skyrocketed.

Jackson…

I lost sight of him in the rush of people helping him. I was only vaguely aware of how the rodeo attempted to distract everyone at the other end, but I couldn’t look away.

He needed to move.

He couldn’t die. This couldn’t be it. I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to Jackson.

“C’mon, West.” Darla’s voice was fuzzy in my ears. Fingers touched my cheek, and I flinched—reality crashing back into me .

“What?” I let out. I blinked, only vaguely aware that Jackson was gone. They’d taken him away, and I’d missed the whole thing. “I don’t… what?”

“C’mon, baby boy,” she whispered and took my hand. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

I nodded because it was the only thing I could fucking manage to do.

My boots were rooted to the sidewalk. I stared up at the hospital sign, but I couldn’t bring myself to fucking move. I couldn’t go in there.

The last time I’d been in a hospital it was a fucking nightmare. The grating of handcuffs on my wrist. The inability to get comfortable. The lack of pain medication. The food that made me sick. The doctor’s insistence that touching me that way was for my own fucking good.

The bottom of my stomach dropped.

I couldn’t fucking go in there.

But Jackson was in there.

Jackson was in there, and I was out here.

I had to make it in there.

Panic clawed at my chest, making it difficult to breathe as I tried to talk myself into it—to tell myself I’d be okay. My brain stalled. The dull screams in the back of my head took over everything, making it fucking impossible to think. I couldn’t get anything to work how it was supposed to.

“West?” Darla stood a few feet away, keeping the automatic door open.

“I can’t.” I barely managed to get the words out.

“What?”

“I can’t,” I said again, shaking my head. I ignored how she called after me as I escaped—ran like a fucking dog with my tail between my legs.