A Stallion's Touch by Deborah Fletcher Mello

It was suddenly hot and he felt as if he couldn’t inhale any air.
    Someone he thought to be Nathaniel told him to breathe, and when he did he realized there was a mask over his face and cool oxygen blowing up his nostrils. He tried to lift his hand, to wave his appreciation, but the straps were too tight around his arms.
    He closed his eyes, then wondered when he’d opened them or if they’d actually been open the entire time. He struggled to gather his thoughts, to make sense of his situation. But when he couldn’t, he let his mind go again, thinking only of Tarah, and football. He imagined her there, whispering in his ear, her soft cheek pressed against his, her warm breath like the sweetest song as he waited for her to laugh.
    She was as beautiful as ever, and then she kissed him, her lips brushing lightly over his as she admonished him to rest.
    * * *
    Tarah was standing at the door to the hospital’s helipad when the life flight aircraft landed. She’d been waiting since her brother had called to give her the update on Nicholas’s condition.
    After being transported from the football field to the hospital, he’d been assessed, stabilized, lightly sedated, put on a plane and flown from Minneapolis into Phoenix. According to Nicholas’s brother, the preliminary diagnosis was a cervical spine injury with potential neurological deficits. But Tarah knew there was a host of things that needed to be sorted out before any definitive prognosis could be made. Nicholas needed a full neurological exam to assess his motor, movement and sensory functions. Only then would any doctor be able to give them a full diagnosis and predict his chance of recovery.
    Her recommendation to transfer him to Phoenix Hope had been met with some reluctance. Dr. Nathaniel Stallion had not been wholeheartedly in agreement, concerned that moving his brother might do more harm than good. An extensive conversation with Dr. Harper and the neurological team at Mercy Hospital had helped change his mind. His understanding that the decision could very well mean the difference between Nicholas walking again or not had solidified the next steps.
    Tarah watched as they lowered Nicholas from the plane, cautious about the monitors and tubes to which he was connected. As the medical team that had escorted him rolled his stretcher toward her, she suddenly felt her heart race, and her breath caught in her chest as she took a deep inhalation of air and held it. The staff meeting the flight pushed past her to help him inside. As they took a quick minute to assess his vital signs, Tarah moved to his side.
    His eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly labored. She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her palm. For just a quick moment she would have sworn that when she touched him, her own heart synced with his, the two tempos beating together evenly.
    Leaning over him, she wrapped her arm above his head and dropped her face close to his. She pressed her cheek to his cheek, the sensation of his warm flesh against hers drawing tears from her eyes. She exhaled, and her warm breath gently brushed against his skin.
    The sweetest breeze blew by Nicholas’s nose, and the scent of vanilla and jasmine washed over him. He opened his eyes, his lashes fluttering, then closed them, then opened them again. He struggled to focus. Everything was distorted. I must still be dreaming , he mused. Then suddenly there was no doubt in his mind that Tarah was actually there and not a figment of his imagination. She was close enough to touch and smell, her signature fragrance wafting in the space around him. He felt himself smile as he whispered her name, the cadence of it falling like a feather past his lips.
    Tarah drew the back of her fingers down the side of his face. “I’ve got you, Nicholas. I’m right here and I’ve got you,” she whispered back.
    * * *
    Nathaniel and the rest of the family