Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(63)

and he’s not here.” Now it’s my turn for red cheeks.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think she could be telling the truth. And the fact that Rae didn’t answer my text means that she

either doesn’t know I’m sitting here alone, or she’s fighting with Bo about it. Still, I have Ainsley to deal with.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? For Bo to stand me up. I just have one question for you,” I say as I stand and reach for my

guitar. “Can you tell me where he was last Saturday night? I can, and it wasn’t with you.” I chuckle at Ainsley’s effort to

keep her face composed, while her eyes nearly bug out of her head.

I make it out of the bar and slide my guitar in the car before trying Rae again. There’s no answer, so I have no choice but to

call Bo and find out why I’m here alone at, now, forty minutes after we were supposed to meet. I dial his number and wait through

three rings. My nervous energy has transferred to annoyance.

“Hello?” A man answers. It’s not Bo. I check my phone and it says that I did, in fact, call Bo.

“Uh, hello? Bo? It’s November ...” I know it’s not him, but I need to clarify that somehow.

“November, it’s David Bryson. I have Bo’s phone right now.” His voice is shaky and leads my pulse into a race pace.

“David, I’m here at Tarryn’s. I was supposed to meet Bo at seven—is everything OK?”

“November ...” The change in his tone throws my heart to its knees in prayerful supplication.

No, no, no...Please let him be OK. Please.

Fumbling with my keys, I drop them twice before I get my door unlocked and push my guitar to the back seat.

“David, what is it? Is Bo OK?” Something awful has happened. My body knows it; I’m already crying.

“Listen, we’re at the hospital,” he takes a deep breath and clears his throat, “Bo’s fine. Rachel had an accident on the horse

today, she’s in surgery right now ...” He keeps talking but I can’t make out the words. I speed out of Tarryn’s lot in search

of the hospital.



*



When I arrive at the hospital, I spot David standing out front. I park as close as I can and sprint toward him. I stop dead in my

tracks when I see the tears in his eyes.

“David, what happened? Where are Regan and Bo?” I’m breathless, still fighting tears.

“Rae and Regan were riding on the trail, and Regan said a swarm of bees shot up out of the ground.” He pales during his pause. “

Rae was in front, leading the way...her horse got spooked, and the next thing he knew, she was flying through the air.” David

grabs my hand and walks us toward the hospital entrance. His hand is freezing.

“She was wearing a helmet, though. Right?” I’m trying to organize the situation through my spinning thoughts.

“She was, but she hit the rocks hard when she fell. Regan said she was unconscious right away. They’re concerned about internal

injuries, and she’s been in surgery for over an hour ...”

I think he continues the story as we enter the elevator, my hand still in his, but a million thoughts and visions are going through

my head. I need to find both Bo and Regan.

She has to be OK.

When the elevator dings, I jump away from my thoughts and follow David’s lead. It doesn’t take more than a second for me to find

Regan, sunken into the floor with his back against the wall and his forehead pressed into his knees.

“Regan!” I shout as I run toward him. The look on his face when he lifts his head sends me to my knees in front of him. I wrap my

arms around his shoulders as he sobs into my chest.

“There was nothing I could do ...” he wails into my shirt.

“I know, I know ...” I try to soothe him through my shock and lack of information. I look around and see no sign of Bo.

“He’s in the chapel,” Regan says without looking up. “We’ve been taking turns going in there. I told him I’d come get him if

they come out with any news.”

I look up at David, who nods to me as I stand, and take my seat next to Regan on the floor. A pleasant nurse points me in the

direction of the chapel and I feel like I float there, outside of time.

I’ve only been in a church once before, for my grandmother’s funeral when I was ten. I stand outside the chapel door a few

moments, unsure of proper etiquette. Do I knock? I decide against knocking and slowly open the door. I’m startled by Bo’s voice

in the small, dark space.

“Please, please, please...You can’t do this to me ...” Bo’s hunched in prayer position in one of the rows. I can see from here

that his knuckles are white. “You can’t take her, Lord, you can’t. She’s all I have left.”

I’m struck motionless. We never talked about religion; even if we had, I don’t honestly know what I could contribute to the

conversation, seeing as how I wasn’t raised with any sort of religious framework. However, this man before me is one with a solid

faith, and he’s speaking to someone he believes will help him. The creak of the door behind me whips Bo’s head around.