Lacey giggles. “She’s really good too.”
“I haven’t done too many yet,” Millie rushes out awkwardly.
“If you’re good at something, own it. Who fucking cares how many times you’ve done it?”
My bluntness surprises her enough that she sucks in a breath, eyes wide. I shrug a shoulder and stare back down at the show. The bulls are gone, and the chutes are being turned over. They didn’t close the rodeo this time, but I don’t have it in me to care why they went before the broncs.
What I can’t stop thinking about is who’s going to take part in the saddle bronc competition. I know of one man who would have been here in what feels like another life, intimidating the other riders even as an eighteen-year-old. It felt like he was at every rodeo back then, and Ash was hauling me with him to watch his best friend win over and over again. Sitting in stands like these, watching cowboys risk their lives for a quick shot of adrenaline, was the norm for me.
But things have changed.
It’s too bad my heart doesn’t quite understand that and can’t stop yearning for the man who’s never wanted us.
Lacey’s leg starts shaking now. It’s odd, considering her constant calm demeanour. My hackles rise immediately as I spin on her.
“What?”
“Okay, don’t be mad at me,” she starts, worrying her lip. Her eyes dart to the dirt in front of us, and my stomach flips in the worst way. “Rowe wasn’t the reason I insisted we go out tonight, but when I learned he was competing, I figured it’s been long enough that you’d be okay with watching. You’ve been gone, and I assumed you weren’t still crushing on him. Especially after you got married and all?—”
“Lacey!” I bark, cutting her off. “Stop rambling. I can’t think when you do that.”
Millie straightens beside me. “We could go, if you want? Go to a bar or something instead.”
The offer is far too kind for how I currently feel. I want to lash out at her and tell her off for trying to involve herself in my business. But I don’t. I swallow harshly and grip my knees instead.
“Let’s stay. I don’t care who’s riding.”
I don’t mean a single fucking word.
6
TILLY
I’ve chewedmy lip raw. The beer I’ve chugged is churning in my belly, threatening to come up as I keep my face blank, unbothered.
Every few seconds, I can feel both Lacey and Millie looking at me. Neither of them believes that I’m completely fine with being here, but they have enough common sense not to call me out on it. Not right now when I feel like I could explode into a million bits.
Millie seems to be naïve to the real reason behind my discomfort, and I’m grateful for that. Lacey doesn’t know everything, but she knows enough, and even that’s too much for me right now.
One after the other, the saddle-back riders take to the dirt. The audience is warm today and hasn’t shied away from screaming and shouting their encouragement as all ninety percent of the riders avoid being chucked across the arena.
I grip my knee with a clammy palm and scratch my nails over the hot skin. The announcer’s voice calls out again as I snap my eyes to the chutes. Dread wells up so high inside of me that Inearly choke on it as I search for the man who I feel deep in my bones is here. It’s like a goddamn premonition, a weird tickle on the back of my neck.
The only person in my life who’s tried to bring up Rowe has been my brother, but after I shut that shit down, he hasn’t tried again. Right now, I wish he had, if only to warn me not to come here.
I dig my nails into my knee and hold my breath. It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen him. Fuck, maybe I should just leave before I can’t. Reaching up to grip my hat, I start to rise from the bleachers. I move my leg,soclose to getting away, when my knees shake, stopping me.
The black hat is the only thing I need to see.
My airway closes, forcing me to let out a choked, agonized noise. There’s no hope of running once I become fixated on him, trapped beneath the same spell I found myself in all throughout high school. Rowe Carrigan moves like a man now. A grown one with a few more inches and a fuck ton of bulk to him.
With his hat tipped down to shield his face, he demands the attention of everyone around him with his presence only. It’s intense enough that it flings out wide, reaching me with ease. My knees don’t just shake now—they buckle. I’m forced to sit again, my palm digging into my sternum.
The black button-up work shirt he’s wearing is filthy, speckled with dirt and dust beneath his matching vest as he speaks to one of the men around him. The patches on his vest are ones I expect to see, including the one with his ranch’s insignia.
A twanged voice calls out to the audience at the same time Rowe climbs into the chute, hovering slightly over the saddled horse. The horse’s head shakes angrily, jerking in the chute as Rowe grips the metal bars on either side of him and looks up, as if someone’s told him to.
Grey eyes clash into mine, slashing at my throbbing chest. I fear I’ll swallow my tongue when I get my first real look at him in over a decade.
