He’s thrown clear, hitting the dirt hard, rolling to his feet as the rodeo clowns distract the bronc.
Izzy lets out a breath. “Damn. Thought he had it.”
The evening passes in a blur of heart-stopping action, cheering, and talking. I don’t bother fighting the smile as two huge blue barrels are hauled into place on the dirt for the barrel races.
“This was my dad’s favorite,” I sayas a rider in a bright pink shirt flies out of the gates on a white stallion, hooves pounding hard against the dirt. She’s good. Striking the perfect balance ofspeed and tight turns, the horse cutting close to the barrels, kicking up a cloud of dust as it thunders toward the finish line. “It’s mine too, if I’m honest,” I add, watching the horse cross the line in a time I can’t see anyone else beating tonight.
My mind pulls straight toFury.The strength in those muscles. He was built for this life. One day, I tell myself. One day he’ll be back in an arena like this and I’ll be in the stands cheering him on.Izzy glances at me like she knows exactly where my thoughts have gone.
“Fury’s making progress,” she says, her voice soft. “You were right to buy him. He’s got something.”
I turn my head, raising an eyebrow. “Izzy Brooks, you did not just admit I was right and you were wrong.”
She pretends to look around like she’s searching for someone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I laugh, taking her hand in mine. She lets me hold it for a moment before she pulls away, reaching for her soda.
“I don’t know how much you remember…” Izzy starts, hesitating a little as she drags her eyes to the program. “But your dad had a horse called Dusty Star.”
I glance at her, surprised at the name. “A gorgeous chestnut mare,” I reply. “The white star on her nose. I remember.”
She nods, chewing her lip like she’s debating whether to say more. “When Bill bought those horses, Dusty Star was my favorite. A few years after she joined us, Bill bred her with a champion stallion.” She gestures toward the arena, where a new rider is lining up at the gates. “The next horse about to take the arena? That’s Dusty Star’s foal.”
“No way.” I smile, but there’s an ache stretching across my chest, too. A grief and a guilt I thought I’d come to terms with a long time ago.
We fall silent before Izzy speaks. “Should I not have said anything?”
“I’m glad you did,” I say, meaning it. “My dad got a real kick out of seeing the horses he bred in action.”
I feel Izzy watching me. “Must’ve been hard to say goodbye to them.”
I take a long time to nod. “No one has ever said that before. With Dad dying, it was like I couldn’t grieve the horses and that life on top of him. I’d have given anything to have my dad back, but the ranch was a huge part of my life, too.”
“Do you wish Mama had hired ranch hands and tried to keep it going?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Selling was the right thing to do.” I pause, my thoughts pulling back to the eleven-year-old boy who didn’t know how to comfort his crying mama. “Jake and Chase think Mama sold the horses to focus on us, and that’s true in part. But it was about money too. We might be set for life now with our NFL careers, but back then, the ranch had its share of good years and bad. She needed the money from the sale to keep us afloat. And the hardest part is…” I pause. Swallow. Not sure if I can go on but wanting to explain. To tell Izzy the one thing I’ve never told another living soul. Beside me, Izzy doesn’t fill the silenceand her quiet patience is enough for me to carry on. “None of it would’ve happened—Dad’s death, selling the horses—if it wasn’t for me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Izzy says carefully.
I keep my gaze focused ahead, staring into the empty arena. The noise of the crowd dies away as I think back to the night my dad died. “There was a rainstorm and the horses were still in the paddocks,” I say. “Jake and I went out to help Dad get them into the barn. Jake got to the paddock first and made a move to get Dad’s horse. He was a huge gelding—the biggest horse we had—and I almost stopped Jake, almost told him to get a different horse. But I let him go while I went for two other horses.”
I swallow back the pain threatening to consume me.
“Dad’s horse got spooked by the thunder and reared up at Jake. He slipped and would’ve been trampled if Dad hadn’t pulled him out the way, getting knocked on the head in the process. Dad lost his life saving Jake. If I’d called Jake back that night, told him to get a different horse like I’d thought about…” My words trail off. The what-if is a burden I’ve carried for so long. It’s a part of me.
“You were only a little boy, Dylan,” she says quietly. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“I know, but it still hurts.”
Before we can say any more, the gates are opening again and a chestnut stallion streaks into the arena. He’s fierce and wild, like Fury. I smile at the thought, about to say something to Izzy, when her hand slips into mine and stays there. Izzy leans closer, our arms touching, and I’m no longer thinking of the race or the past. I’m thinking about us.
There’s still a part of me that wants to hold back because whatever this is between us, it’s new and I’m scared of how fast it’s happening. But with Izzy’s hand in mine, I know this thing between us is real. It’s not just the pull of desire, the want I feelwhen she’s near. It’s something deeper. A connection I’ve never felt before.
THIRTY-THREE
IZZY
The final rider leaves the arena and all around us people stand and start to move toward the exit. The announcer’s voice crackles over the speakers, listing the dates of the next rodeos. Dylan and I stay in our seats, my hand wrapped in his, resting on his thigh. Leaving marks the end of our date, and I don’t want that. It’s like we’ve stepped out of ourselves, like this night is all there is to think about. Like maybe this isn’t the mistake I keep telling myself it is.
