Logan
I’m wired.
Gigi told me the fairgrounds is where her mom came with Mr. Henwood the night they spent together, and so Mrs. Phillips is extra agitated today.
Which probably explains why I received a text from Mrs. Phillips after Gigi finished shooting—Gigi’s frustrated by her performance in the target contest. She says that’s the only reason for her low mood right now. I hope she’s telling the truth. Because if I find out her unhappiness has something to do with you, I won’t hesitate to make sure to delay your wedding.
That’s what I was reading when Macey came out of the restrooms. And I haven’t been able to shake the thinly-veiled threat since.
“What the hell’s going on with you?” Luke mutters to me as I walk with him and Brayden to the arena where the rodeo events are held.
Brayden’s got the same dark hair as his brother, but he’s a lot less pushy.
“He’s hyped for the bronc riding,” he says. “Let him concentrate.”
Blake is standing by the bronc area when we arrive.
“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 up on the bronc chosen for me. Then, I take a second to look out at the stands.
Gigi is there with her parents. I don’t see Macey. The gate opens, and my bronc charges out.
Time to ride.
76
Macey
* * *
“Next up is Logan Wild on Apollo!” The announcer calls out.
My hands grip the fence railing as the bronc—with Logan riding him—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, this bronc isn’t playing around.
Four seconds in and I’m biting my bottom lip till it bleeds. But Logan looks in control. He’s keeping his seat, and Apollo 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.
Apollo bucks so damn hard that Logan flies off his seat before coming back down safely on the bronc’s back.
The crowd gasps.
I hold my breath, my knuckles white from gripping the fence. Apollo dances his way around the ring and I can’t see Logan’s face anymore.
