She huffs, but it holds no heat.“I am pretty sure that was proposal entrapment.”
Laughter trickles down the fence line, even Eli’s mouth twitches.
We call a water break under trees older than all of us.The shade is thin, but it’s something.I drain half a bottle, head back up, because stopping makes the ache catch up.Tessa is a few yards off, lips moving, counting the group.It’s the same habit I have on the bench, heads, numbers, lines.She pauses, brow pulling tight.Scans left, then farther right.Everything about her goes very, very still.
“What?”I ask before I know I’m talking.
Her eyes narrow toward the far fence where a run of corrals sits slightly apart.Sun on metal.The pen they put the big guy in to rest a tender hoof and keep him away from today’s chaos.We were told to steer clear, full stop.
Tessa’s voice cuts low.“Where is...”She breaks off, sharpens.“Sloane.What the hell is she doing?”
Who the?and then it sinks in.Sloane.The girl from the hallway.From the photos.From my worst morning-after.
Tessa is already moving.The bay she’s been using is ground-tied near the fence; she’s up and on in one clean swing, knees hugging muscle, a squeeze of her strong legs, and he rockets forward.She is flying, hat gone, braid unspooling behind her like a live wire.
I watch, trying to piece together what has her freaked out.The sun is in my eyes.I wipe my brow and take a few steps forward, trying to put it all together.And then I see it.
Fuck.
“Eli!”I shout, pointing.He follows my line of sight, mutters something that would peal paint, and sprints.He vaults onto his mustang and kicks hard.
Everything else staggers into slow motion.Dad’s truck pulls up next to our group, Mom riding shotgun, Olivia between them with a basket of sandwiches, snacks and the proudest smile under the sun.
The girls next to me in their athleisure sit up like meerkats, phones already tilting in anticipation of what is to come.
Sloane has climbedintothe bullpen.Heels in mud, the bull behind her, camera up and angled, lips parted, sunlight catching the glitter along her collarbone.The bull stands maybe thirty feet away, switching his tail at the flies, watching with that flat, patient attention that’s felt more than seen.
Tessa is there first.She reins in hard outside the panel.Voice low, carrying.“Sloane.Do not run.Walk to me...slow.”
Sloane does what people like her do when someone tries to save them: she takes another fucking selfie.Then she looks down, realizes her heels are cemented in July muck, and yanks.One heel pops free with a sound like a hiss.The other holds.She flails, screaming.
Tessa swings down without hesitation, tosses the reins over a post, and clears the panel.Two strides and she’s beside Sloane, hands under her elbows, a clean jerk that lifts her up enough to slide her foot out, if Sloane would cooperate.The second heel refuses.Tessa curses softly, goes lower, grabs Sloane behind the knee and yanks, heels gone, feet free, Sloane screeches, "They are fucking designer, you hilbilly."...and the bullmoves.
It’s not a sprint; it’s a decision.Head lifts, chest rolls, one huge shoulder dips, and the ground seems to move with him.The sound he makes is old and big enough to vibrate my soul.
“Tessa!” I hear myself bellow.
Eli is a streak on the far side, but he’s still too far.Tessa doesn’t hesitate.She shoves Sloane at the panel, palms braced under her ass,throwsher up and over the top rail.“Gonow,” she snaps, and then she turns to face something ten times her weight and not in a talking mood.
The bull turns at the last minute, still focused on Sloane, and his side hits the gate, hard enough to shriek metal.The panel bows, the pins bite.Dust detonates, hot and choking, and Tessa goes back against the rail like a ragdoll, clips the post, and disappears.
Olivia’s scream cuts through everything.“TESSA!”
Dad is running towards the pen faster than I can ever remember seeing him move.
Reeves is moving, sprinting for the truck to get to Olivia, folding her up against his chest before her feet can find the ground.“She’s okay, Princess.Eyes on me.”
The dust thins and I see her: Tessa on hands and knees tucked up under the lowest rail, dragging herself out, face tense, eyes still on the bull, one arm clamped around her ribs.
Olivia lets out a sob for Tessa, and she turns toward the sound like nothing else matters and lifts a shaking hand, thumb up.The kid hiccups, breath returns to her in little jerks.
The bay is losing his mind, dancing sideways on the outside of the panel, whites of his eyes showing.Tessa staggers up, puts her palm to the bridge of his nose, forehead to his, breath syncing in five-counts until the animal remembers the world’s not ending.Eli arrives and slips the reins from her fingers.“I’ve got him,” he says.
Kenzie is already on the phone, voice clipped.“Chase?Yeah, we need you.Now.”
Behind Eli, Sloane is shrieking at her ruined shoes.“Those were Louboutin’s, oh myGod, do you evenknow?”
Dad turns slowly, jaw working, temper fighting through.For a second, I honestly think he’ll toss her back into the paddock and let God sort it out.He doesn’t.The muscle in his cheek jumps once, twice.He watches Tessa with Eli for a moment, making sure she is up and breathing, then he walks to the pen to check the gate and the animal.I know this is how he is steadying himself.
