This isn’t like the highlight reels he’d shown me.
This is real.
The horse bucks hard, viciously, like it’s trying to kill Travis.
One wrong move. One bad landing, and?—
I curl my hands into fists, unable to look away.
What if he gets hurt?
I don’t just want him to win.
I want him safe.
Ineedhim safe.
The fear settles into my chest, and for the first time, I realize exactly how much I have to lose.
Travis
Everything narrowsthe second I get on the bronc in the chute.
The heat. The noise of the crowd. Even Maisey.
All of it disappears until there’s only the horse beneath me and the rhythm I’ve trusted my whole life. I ride like everything’s on the line, because it is.
That’s not any different today. It just feels bigger.
Eight seconds.
That’s all it takes to change everything.
The gate blows open. The bronc comes out hard, twisting and kicking like he’s got something to prove.
But so do I.
I stay with it, letting my body move on instinct through every violent, sharp turn.
I don’t fight the ride.
I own it.
When the buzzer sounds, I’m still there.
In a flash, I let my focus move from the bronc to the recovery rider coming up next to me on his horse.
I release my grip on the leather and, in one smooth motion, leap from the bronc—who’s still hellbent on trying to murder me—and use the recovery horse and rider as my buffer to slide down to the ground, while the clown does his job, leading the wild horse back to the corral.
It was a clean ride. Solid.
The crowd erupts, but I barely hear it. My eyes go straight to the stands.
To her.
I find her in the sea of thousands immediately. Maisey’s frozen in place, her hands clenched tight, her eyes locked on me like she hasn’t breathed in eight seconds either.
The second her eyes lock on mine, something in my chest settles.
