“Yeah. The old girl wants some time off, huh?”
“Yeah. Maybe we should get her fixed. Keep another pair.”
“You think? She’d be a great granny.”
“Uh-huh. You ride already, Boug?” Wait. Shouldn’t he know that?
“I did. No worries.” Beau did his Packer impression.
“Good deal.” He shook his head, trying to clear it.
“Stop that.” Jonesy held him down. “No shaking.”
“You’re being damn pushy, Jonesy.” He needed to think.
“I am. I want you to be quiet.” One hand flattened on the center of his chest. “I worry about you, Bell.”
“You and everyone else. I’m fucking fine!” Jesus Christ! He wasn’t a fucking loser!
“Jonesy, could you and Doc give us a moment?” Beau’s voice was low and gentle, and soon enough they were alone, the whole room clearing out.
He looked at Beau, heart slamming hard in his chest. Fuck, he was scared. Like deep.
“Talk to me, Poot. What do you need?” Beau held his hand like he was a drowning man and Beau was his lifeline.
“I can’t remember your ride, Beau. That’s fucked up. Shit. I can’t ride no better than Jase.”
“Yes, you can. You’re the best natural rider there ever was.” Beau paused, biting his lip. “You ain’t gonna like it, but I gotta say it. Your heart ain’t in it no more.”
Sam sat there, feeling like ice was in his veins, like his heart was just froze. He’d been a bullrider for his whole life, and God knew Beau was still a bullrider, still the champ. Still gonna win the money and support them and--
“I think I’m gonna go home.”
Beau ran his thumb over the back of Sam’s hand, slow and easy. “If you do, I’ll miss you something awful. Tell me you’ll come to the finals, at least. You got an in.”
“I reckon I’ll have to pull your rope when you win the big money, cowboy.” He thought maybe he could spend a couple three weeks deep in a bottle, then maybe he’d go to Texas. Take Jase a puppy and stay for a while.
“Yeah. Yeah, and I need you in my ear, huh?” Beau smiled into his eyes. “I need you around, buddy.”
“Yeah.” Except it wasn’t true, was it?
He was the one getting carried, not Beau.
And it’d been like that from the get go.
“I can see you thinking, Poot. Just stop. You’ll go home a bit, get well. We’ll figure it.”
“Yeah.”
Except he wasn’t sure anymore if they would.
Chapter Thirteen
Beau hated it.
He hated that he’d been the one to send Sam away. He hated that Sam called at night, sounding more and more defeated. Most of all, he hated that he hadn’t been home.
Going into finals was always crazy, and this year was even worse, because Beau wasn’t just the defending champion, he was well on his way to winning the year again. Everyone wanted a piece of him, from the big dogs at corporate to the reporters to the fans.
