“We both know that hyped isn’t the right mindset for a bronc rider. Get your head on straight,” Luke says to me as I make my way to the chute. “I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t let it disrupt your focus.”
“I won’t,” I promise him.
I intend to keep the promise to my cousin. I want to see Luke on a bronc again, and that means he needs to get his confidence back. One way I can help him is to put on a good show in the same arena where he nearly died the last time he competed.
When it’s my turn, I mount Prince and take a second to look out at the stands.
Gigi is there with her parents. I don’t see Macey. The gate opens, and Prince charges out.
Time to ride.
Chapter Forty-Five
Macey
My hands grip the fence railing as Logan’s bronc storms into the arena.
Two seconds in and my palms are sweating.
Logan’s so good at bronc riding. Yet, every time I watch him compete, my heart drops into my stomach like I’m on the scariest roller coaster. My gaze stays focused on Logan as he holds on for dear life while the bronc bucks the hell out of him.
God, Prince is in a mood today.
Four seconds in and I’m biting my bottom lip till it bleeds. But Logan looks in control. He’s keeping his seat, and Prince seems to be tiring.
Just a few more seconds.
“Hold on, hold on,” I chant to myself.
The crowd is getting louder. Logan’s expression is taut with concentration and his mouth pursed as he hangs on.
Prince bucks so damn hard that Logan flies off his seat before coming back down on Prince’s back.
The crowd gasps.
I hold my breath, my knuckles white from gripping the fence. Prince dances his way around the ring and I can’t see Logan’s face anymore.
I take a deep breath.
Just as I dare to let it out—
Prince violently rises up on his back legs.
Time slows as I stare helplessly at the bronc holding Logan hostage in mid-air. Somehow, Logan stays on.
Logan’s told me that a bucking bronco looks worse to the crowd watching than it feels for the rider. He says that when you’re the one on the horse, all you’re thinking about is surviving. Death doesn’t enter your mind in the moment. I get that bronc riders are a different breed, and they’ve made peace with the dangers of their sport.
But I want to tell him to be careful. I want to tell him to keep his right hand steady because it looks like it’s slipping. But I can’t. I can’t do anything because I’m outside the arena looking in.
He’s going to get first place in three, two…
All I can do is watch. My throat is sore from screaming. My teeth clench together. I pray as hard as I can.
* * *
Logan
Holy fuck.
