Joy, Tate, Gray, and I are the anomalies, each of us frozen in place by the announcement. There’s no time to say anything before Joy bolts, Gray stomping out of the arena only seconds later with Tate on his heels.
But I stand there frozen, listening to the crowd cheer. Just three days ago, Tate and Gray mended a little broken piece of their relationship. He’d come home in high enough spirits, revealing it felt good to just be with his brother again.“I want to fix things with him, I think,”he’d admitted as we cuddled in bed, his head on my chest and my fingers in his hair.
Judging by the way he stormed off, he didn’t know about this.
Racing down the pathway, I go to find him. No telling how far down into his pool of anger he’ll dive if left to his own devices. Everyone seems to have seen him, but not a single person can tell me where he is.
It’s been thirty minutes of shoving through competitors when I hear two male voices shouting.
“Fuck off! You can’t let me have anything. Just had to take this too.”
“Grayson, listen to me,” Tate pleads.
“No!” Gray’s finger points at his brother’s face, his hand quivering so badly I can see it shake from a distance. “You’re not my brother. If you were, you would have never done something like this to me. We’re done.”
Gray spins on his heel, spotting me speed-walking toward him. “River, not now.”
“Don’t walk away from me.” He stops, his back heaving with his heavy breaths. “Look at me.”
As if in slow motion, he spins to face me, unbridled turmoil staring back at me behind those eyes. Stepping into his space, I remove his hat, placing it on my head, so I can sweep his hair back. “I need you to get your head on straight. Do you hear me?”
“River, he lied to my face.”
“I don’t care. You are about to go out there and get on the back of a ton-sized death machine. Get your head on straight because if you—” The words lodge in my throat. I don’t want to voice them. He’d told me Stacy hated every time he rode, and I don’t want him to think that’s what this is.
I’m not scared for him to ride, I’m scared for him to ride emotionally. I need him focused. I need him as safe as possible.
His palms cup my face, tilting my gaze back up to his. “I have time before I ride. I’ll get it together.”
“You better. I understand you’re pissed about this right now, but worry about it later.”
His lips find mine, the slant of his head knocking his cowboy hat to the ground. His voice broken as he whispers against my lips. “Thank you, baby.”
Allowing a soft smile to tug at the corners of my mouth, I breathe him in. “Just don’t let Old Man Wilber show you up tonight.”
Chapter 19
Grayson
Ididn’tmeantolieto River. I told her I would be good. Usually, I can force the fury to fizzle out.
Yet tonight, the search for that pre-ride calmness eludes me, no matter how much I pace or think of the woman I need to make it home to.
That rage only boils higher, rolling through me like a tidal wave. The intensity wreaking more havoc than I want to allow.
I’d walked River back to the gate where she likes to watch before disappearing into the back. The last kiss I’d given her was not nearly enough. Not enough to settle her or ground me. I can only hope she didn’t notice the storm raging inside me was growing.
The fear was there in her eyes. If I am going to keep my promise to her, I need to calm down. I need to find my focus. The bull they pulled for me tonight is a nasty bastard. If I’m not right, I may not walk out of there, and I’ll be damned if I don’t go home with the only person who has always had my back. The only person who has always seen the real me and only wanted more of him.
But I can’t stop replaying the night out with Tate. It started awkwardly, the both of us sipping our beers and talking about the competition he left town for before we got to the meat of our problems.
It hurt. It was weird. I’m sure the both of us hated every minute of it, but it felt like the start of our mending a relationship that broke decades ago. It felt like I hated him a little less and loved him a little more. That’s why I’m shattered tonight.
For all the talk we had about the family ranch and even contemplating what Boulder might be like under new management, he never said a word. He never once hinted that he was the new owner. He even lied to my face, insisting he had no idea who it was.
I’m angry, but more than anything, I’m devastated that he didn’t think he could trust me enough to tell me. Tate has always had his hand in everything I’ve ever done. Left his mark on everything I wanted to claim for myself. But to my knowledge, he’s never once lied to me.
Until now.
