“Deep breath.” Mitch squeezed his shoulder.
He nodded. “Right. Thanks.” Sky didn’t need him panicked. He walked over, hating the whole discreet bullshit even more, and tucked an arm under Sky’s shoulders, giving his husband something to lean on. “I got you.”
“Hey. Careful. I’m gross. Parker’s getting stitches.” Sky was covered in blood.
Don’t shout at him in front of everyone, don’t freak out, he’s okay.
His husband was a fucking idiot, though. He’d said it a million times, if a bull didn’t kill Sky, he might.
“Was it his head? You’re a mess. What hurts, the hip?”
“Yeah. Not serious. You know how they bleed.” Sky leaned a little harder. “Ankle. It doesn’t know how to land anymore.”
Not the hip. Good. “You want to get it looked at? I’ll walk you back there. We can check on Park. Do you think he’ll be cleared for a re-ride?”
“I’m going back to the hotel. Park’s fine, his new boytoy is with him. I’m sticky, I need an ice pack and a beer, and I want you with me.”
Beck still wanted to yell, ask Sky what the hell he thought he was doing, even though everyone knew. But he’d been well-trained not to argue in public, so he nodded and waved to Mitch. They’d catch up at dinner later. “Okay. Let’s get a cab.”
They made their way out the back, sneaking past as many people as possible, and found a cab back to the hotel. It didn’t escape his notice the way Sky winced getting into the car.Goddamn it.He suddenly envisioned another round of therapy and more restrictions, and he could practically hear Sky complaining about the cane already.
He thought he was done with all that. He thought Sky was done.
He climbed into the cab and gave the hotel address, but he didn’t dare even look at Sky. The longer he sat with it, the more he felt like he needed to say something. Just not in the cab. Not in public. Never in fucking public.
Sky’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Yo. Yeah, no. No, it wasn’t no thing. Hmm? Stitches, I’m sure. Pretty boy’s going to look like Frankenstein, now. Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. Let me talk to Beck, hold up.”
Sky pulled the phone away from his face. “You want to cancel supper?”
“Up to you.” He wasn’t the reason they were headed for the hotel. “You’re the one limping again.”
One eyebrow went up and Sky’s pretty eyes went icy. “Yeah, bud. We’re gonna cancel. Yeah. I will.” Sky rolled his eyes. “No shit on that, buddy. See ya.”
He looked out the window as Vegas went by, feeling like this could end up being a very long week.
They pulled up to the Mandalay Bay and Sky paid the taxi driver, then levered himself out of the car, hiding the wince from Beck this time.
Nothing like walking into a hotel with a bull rider covered in blood. He’d like to say it was a first, but it most definitely was not.
Sky tipped his hat a couple of times before the elevator, and when they got to their room, there was an ice pack, a six-pack, and a note that said, “Saw the footage. Ow. Chris.”
Sky chuckled, and he shook his head. Fucking bull riders.
“Ow? That’s the least of it.” Beck pulled out a beer and opened it. “Ow, I watched you risk everything again? Ow, you could have been killed buddy, have a fucking beer.”
“What did you expect me to do?” Sky blinked at him like he was insane. “Parker was out.”
“I don’t know, Sky. But it’s like you went in there on purpose. Like you went looking for trouble. Someone else could have held his vest, it didn’t have to be you.”
“I’ve pulled that kid’s rope every fucking finals he’s ever been to. I was here. I can’t pull rope no more, but I can do this!”
Sky wasn’t supposed to be down there; his husband was retiring. Sky was supposed to be watching, cheering. Sky was supposed to be done.
“Not anymore you can’t because you’re on the goddamn injured list again! But I guess that’s better than the casualty list, right? Or no? What were you after, Sky? Did you want to be a hero, or were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Oh, fuck you, you self-righteous asshole! I was doing what I was fucking trained to do. What you would have thanked Chris or Mike or any other bull rider for doing if it was me in the chute and unconscious. That’s what we do. We protect our own. Youknowthat.”
“That’s what you do? Who the fuck are you calling self-righteous, you prick? I sat there in the stands and watched you at best throw away months and months of therapy and at worst nearly fucking die right in front of me, and I’m the asshole?”