My breath came in shallow gasps. The world tilted. I couldn’t move. I couldn't think.
Someone bumped my shoulder, breaking the spell. I stumbled back toward the aisle, eyes locked on him. He didn’t follow right away, just leaned on the rail like any other spectator. But the way his eyes tracked me, slow and deliberate, told a different story.
I forced myself into motion.
Find Linc.
The announcer’s voice boomed overhead, calling the next team into the arena. Of course, it had to be the roping event. Josh was nowhere to be seen now.
I shoved through the crowd, my heart slamming against my ribs. My boots slipped a little on the slick concrete, and I caught the railing to steady myself.
When I looked back, he was gone.
The noise blurred into a single, pulsing roar. Horses snorted, ropes sang, people cheered—but it all felt far away.
I spotted Linc near the stock pens, clipboard in hand, talking to a cowboy. Relief hit like a wave, but it didn’t last. When he looked up and saw my face, his expression shifted in an instant.
“What is it?”
“Josh,” I whispered. “He’s here.”
He went utterly still.
“Kristin, look at me.”
“I saw him. He was right there by the rail. He—he talked to me.”
His jaw flexed once. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
“Linc—”
But he was already gone, pushing through the line of contestants toward the arena. His shoulders were tight, his movements sharp. I wanted to follow, but my legs felt as if they were locked in place.
The crowd pressed in again, their laughter and excitement ringing hollow in my ears. What if I was wrong? What if I had seen a stranger who only looked like him?
But the voice. That scar. That look.
No, I wasn’t wrong.
Minutes stretched like hours. The next set of riders went, ropes snapping through the air, steers bolting across the dirt. I couldn’t see Linc anymore.
I called his name, but it vanished in the roar of the music.
Then a hand landed on my shoulder.
I jumped so hard I knocked over the coffee urn. Hot liquid splashed across the table and steamed on the cold floor.
“Whoa, easy there.”
It wasn’t Josh. Just one of the volunteers, a kid from town.
“Sorry,” I said, my voice shaking. “Sorry, I?—”
He grabbed a roll of paper towels. “I’ll clean it up. Go take a breather.”
I nodded, barely hearing him, and stumbled toward the hallway that led to the restrooms and locker rooms, away from the heat and the noise.
The second the door swung shut behind me, the roar of the crowd faded. The sound dropped into an eerie hush broken only by the distant echo of hooves and a few muffled cheers. My breath came fast, fogging in the cooler air.
