I worked through my drills—slow at first, building trust, then faster as the horse settled into the rhythm.He was steady and reliable, the kind of horse that didn't spook when I shifted my weight or swung under his barrel.
But as good as he was, he still wasn’t Calla.God, I missed her.
My phone buzzed in my pocket halfway through a vault sequence.I ignored it until I'd finished the run, then pulled it out, still catching my breath.
It was a text from my lawyer.
Lawyer: Promoter's team filed for extension.Another month minimum.
I stared at the screen, my chest tightening.
Another month.
Another month of waiting.Another month of being stuck in limbo while someone else controlled my career, my horse, and my future.
I’d told myself I was good at walking away…from bad contracts…from unsafe partnerships…from men who asked for too much and offered too little in return.But standing there, my phone heavy in my hand, it hit me that leaving had never been the hard part.
Staying was.
Staying meant giving someone enough access to hurt me if they chose to.It meant trusting that what we built together wouldn’t be taken, twisted, or signed away because I missed the fine print, or because I wanted something badly enough to ignore the risk.
I’d already lost one partnership I loved.I wasn’t sure I could survive losing another.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and swung onto Rio’s back, urging him into a canter.The wind bit at my face, sharp and cold, but I didn't slow down.I needed the speed, the burn in my legs, the proof that I could still do this.
When I finally pulled up, Dawson was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, watching.
"You looked good," he said.
I dismounted and handed the reins to the ranch hand who'd appeared out of nowhere."Felt good."
Dawson's gaze lingered on me, reading something I wasn't saying.He pushed off the fence and closed the distance between us.
"What happened?"
I shrugged."My lawyer texted.The case got delayed again."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't offer empty reassurances.Instead, he said, "You've got options."
I blinked."What?"
"I've been thinking."He shifted, like the words didn't come easy."There's a guy I know in Bozeman.He runs a rodeo school and books riders for exhibitions.He's always looking for talent.I could introduce you."
I stared at him."You'd do that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Because most people didn't.Most people saw me as temporary, a complication, someone passing through.But Dawson wasn't most people.
"It's not a guarantee," he continued."But options are good.You never know where the season will take you."
The season.Not us.Not here.
But he wasn't saying temporary, either.He was saying possibility.
I nodded slowly."Yeah.Okay.That'd be...thank you."
He tipped his hat, but his eyes stayed on mine a beat longer than necessary.Then he turned back toward the barn, and I watched him go, something warm and uncertain unfurling in my chest.
