The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet, TX Book 1)

CHAPTER ONE: JESSA

 LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

"So...you finally decided to wake up?"

I looked up into eyes the same pale blue as mine, my brother's eyes, and blinked, trying to push past the drug and pain induced fog. I inhaled through my nose then winced, groaning deep in my throat.

"Yeah, that's broken, too."

"Hurt," I croaked. My nose was broken. 

"What the hell did you expect, Jessa?" Jace frowned at me, then moved out of my line of vision. I blinked again and slowly turned my head, watching him pour water into a small plastic cup. Suddenly I realized just how thirsty I was. Jace held the straw to my lips and I drank. A gasp of air set more pain radiating through my chest to all extremities. 

"What happened?"

"Duster's Twister kicked your ass."

Talk about a bad draw. I sighed and sifted through my thoughts a minute, trying to remember, filter and take stock. Trying to orient my new reality with memories and impressions, but the last thing I could remember was me in the chute on Duster's Twister's back, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I raised my free arm and gave the ready nod.

"How long ago? How long have I been out, Jace?" I rasped after taking another painful sip of water.

"You've been in and out, mostly out, for a couple of days."

"Daddy?"

"Gone. Mama was raising hell about getting home for Christmas, so they took off. There were...snowstorms coming."

And that was way more important than me. My brother's announcement coincided with a twinge of pain in my chest. Surely it was from my injuries and had nothing to do with Daddy leaving me. I pushed it away, locked it up tight, and wet my lips with a tongue that finally decided to work. "How bad?"

Jace turned his attention to the cup in his hand. He set it down, refusing to meet my eyes. My brother wasn't normally one to sugar coat things, so his body language set off alarm bells in my head. "I should tell the nurse you're awake."

"Jace!" I growled as loud as I could without hurting myself.

He headed for the door. "You should hear it from the doctor. I might get it wrong." 

"I'm through," I announced with all the certainty of a death row inmate receiving their last meal. He stopped halfway to the door and his head dipped. It wasn't every day a girl became a washout at twenty-six, but I didn't need a catalog of my injuries to confirm it, I'd known as soon as I'd woken up, and Daddy's desertion only confirmed matters. My heart sat like a boulder in my chest but to my surprise, I had no tears to shed. Jace turned to face me and while I lacked tears, he didn't. "Don't cry, Bubba. We had a good run, but it's over."

Jace scrubbed at his face, took a deep breath and crossed the room to my bedside. "I'll be here as long as you need me."

I woke up a second time, gasping for air and struggling to get my bearings. How long had I been asleep this time? I blinked a few times, focusing on the ceiling, aware that every inch of me hurt, and hurt worse than anything I'd ever experienced. You rodeoed, you got hurt. It happened and I'd accepted that when I'd started riding, but this was worse. Way worse.

The door to my room was open, the other bed empty, and the day was nearly gone. But I had no idea what day. I'd done my first-class wipeout on the last night of the National Finals—in front of thousands of people. Jace had mentioned three days, which meant the finals were over.