Montana Wild

your life flash in front of your eyes like people tell you? Do you see the people you loved most one last time?
Turns out, for me, it is neither.
I feel the car skid on the wet asphalt, the heavy rain blanketing the trees lining the side of the road in shadows. I don’t see the other car coming until it’s too late and the headlights blind me. The car jerks to the side, I can hear the sound the tires make on the road right before they leave it and skid down the ditch.
Everything starts to move in slow motion. I can hear the screams, both my own and my mother’s, and I can see the big oak tree move closer to my window. The sound of metal bending—the screeching has chills run down my back—before I’m thrown against the window and my vision blurs.
I’ve always hoped to relive my happiest memories one last time. The first time I sat on a horse, felt its subtle movement of muscle and sinew underneath me. The feeling of belonging rushing through my body the first time I loped through the woods surrounding my childhood home. The first time I won a ribbon at a competition, when I was short-listed to compete in the Olympics. My first kiss; the first time I thought I was in love.
Instead, what flashes in front of my eyes are the most devastating days of my life. The day my childhood pony, Edgar, died, and how I cried for two straight days afterward. The day my world was ripped apart—my parents fighting, my mother packing up our things, us leaving. Every day I’ve spent since then wishing for my father to reach out to me, wanting to speak to me. The time I walked in on my boyfriend fucking one of my best friends.
The devastation keeps building until I feel nothing but pain and heartache while every bad thing I ever did or happened to me flashes in front of my eyes. Instead of floating peacefully into the afterlife, it looks like fate is playing one last cruel trick on me—in more ways than one.
Next to me, I can hear my mother’s labored breath, her groans of pain. I try to lift my head to see what’s in front of us. But the movement shoots a searing pain through my shoulder and down my arm. I cry out in agony and my head drops back against the window. I have one last thought before it all goes black.
I wish my father thought I was worth the effort.

Chapter One
“I’m sorry, Montana, but you won’t be able to compete for at least two months. You broke your collarbone in the crash. We were able to set the bone during surgery, but it needs at least six weeks to heal, if not more. And then there is the physical therapy to help you regain your strength.” The doctor in front of me shows no emotion while ripping the rug out from underneath of me.
“No, no,” I moan, trying desperately to come up with a solution. “I can’t afford to be out, Doctor. I need to—”
“You need to rest,” the doctor reiterates sternly, making it clear his only concern is my health, and not the things I need to accomplish. “You won’t be able to use your arm much for the next two months, let alone hold on to a horse. And from what I hear, you were the first athlete to be announced for the shortlist to attend the Olympics. You have nothing to worry about.” His voice is soothing, trying to reassure me.
He’s not wrong, I was the first rider to be announced for the Olympics back in December, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m nominated with nine other equestrian jumpers, and only three, plus an alternative for the team competition, will be competing this summer. I still have to prove myself over the next couple months. I might only be twenty-four years old, and I’ve won plenty of competitions—made more money than I could ever spend—but the Olympics is every athlete’s dream. It’s not about the money when it comes to them. It’s about being the best while representing your country. It’s a matter of pride. It’s the one competition that beats every other. It’s our Super Bowl.
“Nothing is secure in this business. If I don’t compete in at least one competition this summer and place well, I might not be going. And then there are the finals in April. There are only three spots. I need to get one of them.”
Maybe then he’ll finally love me. It’s the one thought I don’t voice, but the real reason I’m so determined to make it to the Olympics. If I win a gold medal maybe he’ll finally call; nothing else has worked so far. It’s my last hope. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to finally accept my father doesn’t love me, and he only has time for his new family—I’m not sure I’m ready for it yet.
To give up.
To accept the one person I thought loved me for me when I was a child, and not as a tool in his manipulations, changed his mind after all.
“I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. You need to give the bone time to heal.” The corners of his mouth tip up slightly, a resemblance of a smile.
With a sigh, I lean back into the uncomfortable hospital bed with its rough sheets and close my eyes while he leaves my room. He’s right, there is nothing anyone can do. I’m in pain despite the medication they’re giving me. I can barely move my arm without crying out in agony. There is no way I can hold on to a horse which weighs a thousand pounds.
What am I going to do?
I can hear the door open and the