I sit with it while I get dressed, tugging on jeans and boots with a bit more purpose than usual.
I’ve got plans to meet Liam at his place to go over some business stuff. Since Olive quit, I’ve been helping him manage things.
Liam’s already out in the barn when I pull up.
He’s scribbling notes on a feed inventory sheet, muttering under his breath, which is honestly very on-brand. I knock on the barn doorframe as I step inside, and he glances up.
“You’re on time,” he says. “That’s terrifying.”
I smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
We go over the feed order, a new supplier contract, and a few other odds and ends. I’m halfway through updating the invoice spreadsheet when I clear my throat.
“There’s something I want to run by you.”
Liam looks up, wary. “Does it involve spending money?”
“Not yours.”
He raises an eyebrow, intrigued now. “Then shoot.”
I take a breath. “You know how the town rodeo’s coming up?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s gonna be big this year.”
“Well,” I say slowly, “I’ve been thinking about starting a local newsletter. Or blog. Or something more longform. Not just gossip or schedules, but actual stories. History, interviews, behind-the-scenes stuff. People love this rodeo, but no one ever documents what goes into it.”
Liam frowns. “You want to write about cows?”
I give him a look. “No. I want to write about people. Cowboys. Contestants. The families who’ve worked this land for generations. The drama behind the arena. The heart of it all. I think there’s something real there. Something people would actually read.”
He studies me for a beat too long. “You’re serious about this.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I am.”
Liam leans back against a post, arms crossed. “You always were the nosy one in the family.”
“And you always were the dramatic one. So it evens out.”
I pause, heart starting to race—not from nerves, but from the slow thrum of something that feels like purpose. “So would it be okay to interview some of the bull riders coming out this weekend?”
Since Liam sells bucking bulls to the rodeo, he hosts a training session for new riders. It’s mostly guys trying to earn their stripes before the season kicks off. It’s vital for them to get on a real bull, to feel the weight, the heat, the instinct of the animal beneath them. No mechanical bull or spinning barrel can replicate that.
Liam nods. “You want to hang around the barn and annoy the riders with questions, be my guest.” He grins. “I’ll even throw in a press pass.”
“Oh good,” I say. “That’ll pair nicely with the boots I already own.”
We share a smile. A real one.
“I’m proud of you, Phern.”
“Why?” I ask, startled. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
He gets a far-off look in his eyes. “Sometimes the hardest part is dreaming.”
That quiets me.
I touch his arm. “I talked to Olive this morning. She seemed happy. Said last night’s date went well.”
