
From Wedding Guest to Bride?
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Tina Beckett
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PROLOGUE
THE GROUND WAS so much harder than Elena Solis remembered. She lay there, weird sounds emerging from her throat as she tried to draw a breath and failed. A bolt of panic surged through her. But despite all that, despite the continued gasp for air, despite her fear, she searched the area for her horse.
The music from the speakers at the boarding barn was still blaring, even though she and Stratosphere were no longer moving to the same beat.
It wasnât the first time sheâd taken a hard fall. Sheâd pulled plenty of stupid stunts in her eighteen years, so she doubted it would be the last. Only this time, it wasnât a stunt. Sheâd been practicing for a show, the way sheâd done hundreds of times before.
Her eyes arced over the space again, finding Sandra standing nearby.
âDonât worry. I have Strato. Are you okay? You hit pretty hard.â Elenaâs closest friend had dismounted from her own horse and now held Stratoâs reins as well.
The poor boy had tripped as sheâd rounded a corner during their freestyle routine, not an unheard-of occurrence. Thankfully he hadnât fallen on top of her. As always, she would just hop up and carry on. You had to get right back on after a fall, right? Wasnât that how the saying went? Except right now everything hurt. Her shoulder, her left knee.
But the worst was her back.
âJust give me a minute.â She dragged in a shallow breath, then another, the tight band around her chest slowly easing, even as her pain levels crept higher.
She filled her lungs with air, eyes closing in relief that she could finally breathe normally again. Okay, now to get up. As she tried to roll onto her side, sudden shards of pain slashed at her back, and she felt a horrible burning sensation in her spine. Then nothing. Nothing at all. She immediately fell back and lay still, trying to think.
Okay, that had never happened before. The pain in her knee had vanished, though. That was a good thing. Right?
She wiggled her hands, her arms. Her toes.
Everything worked. Wait. Had her toes wiggled? She couldnât tell. She tried again.
Dios!
âSandra?â Her voice shook in a way it hadnât a moment ago.
Her friend took a step closer, the horses moving with her. Stratoâs head came down, and he nuzzled her shoulder, giving a soft nicker.
âDo you need a hand?â her friend asked.
âIâI donât know yet.â
âWhatâs wrong?â A hint of alarm had entered Sandraâs voice.
âCan you look at my left foot?â
Her friendâs attention moved downward. âWhat about it? Does it hurt?â
âIs it moving? Look at it. My left foot. Is it moving?â
âNo, should it be?â Her friendâs eyes met hers. âElle? Talk to me. Are you in pain?â
Terror rose up and clogged Elenaâs throat, threatening to steal her breath all over again. Her riding helmet pressed against the back of her skull. At least sheâd worn that. âNo, it doesnât hurt. And it should be moving. Iâm telling it to move.â Please move! Please! âAre you sure? Look again.â
âOkay.â Sandraâs gaze flitted back toward her foot. âItâs not doing anything. Dios, Elle, I think I need to call for help.â
Elena swallowed, remaining very still, knowing sheâd made a terrible mistake in trying to get up before sheâd assessed the damage. How many times had her father warned her not to move someone who might have a back injury? âI think so, too. Because, for some reason... IâI canât feel my legs.â
âOh, Elle...â Her friend pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
Through a tunnel she heard Sandra telling someone where they were and what had happened and begging them to send help. Now.
All Elena could do, though, was lie there and pray. Pray harder than sheâd ever done in her entire life.
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