I lean forward, elbows on knees, pretending to focus on the bronc rider in the ring. The crowd roars as the gate flies open, the horse bucking and twisting like it’s got something to prove. I get it. I feel like that horse. Contained fury and nowhere to put it.
Avery’s laugh cuts through the cheers. Not at me. Not for me. But it still hits like a sucker punch.
“You okay?” Mace nudges me with his elbow.
“Peachy,” I lie, sipping my drink.
He follows my gaze and snorts. “You could at least try to hide it. Half the county can see what’s going on between you two.”
“There’s nothing going on,” I say, too quickly.
Mace raises an eyebrow. “Sure there isn’t.”
Before I can answer, Avery stands. “Emmy, you want to go see the ponies?”
Emmy nods, face sticky with sugar and sunshine, and grabs her mom’s hand. I watch them walk off, that ache settling deep in my chest again. Like something I never had but still managed to lose.
Harper slides into the spot beside me, munching on kettle corn. “You’re brooding. It’s not a good look. Very tragic cowboy.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re staring at her like she just ran over your dog.”
I glare. “What do you want, Harper?”
She shrugs. “Just checking in. You going to do something about it or keep playing the strong, silent type until she leaves again?”
That hits a nerve.
“She said she doesn’t need me,” I say.
Harper chuckles. “And you believed her? Cash, she screamed it loud enough to echo off the barn. That’s not someone who’s done. That’s someone who’s scared.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have one. Because she might be scared, but so am I. And what we’ve got between us? It’s not simple. It never was.
The sun dips lower, casting long shadows over the arena. Somewhere behind us, fireworks are getting ready. Somewhere ahead, a future I can’t quite picture is waiting, clouded with regret and maybe, just maybe, a sliver of hope.
And as the next bull rider climbs into the chute, adrenaline buzzing through the stands, I know one thing for sure:
This night isn’t over. And neither is she.
Avery returns about fifteen minutes later, Emmy still skipping alongside her, sticky fingers now gripping a plush stuffed horse. They settle back into the bleachers just as the next round of barrel racing begins, and for a moment, everything almost feels normal.
Until Melissa shows up.
She’s wearing skin-tight jeans and a top that leaves little to the imagination. Her lipstick’s fresh, her smile calculated, and she makes a beeline straight for me like she hasn’t already caused enough trouble.
“Cash,” she purrs, placing a manicured hand on my shoulder. “Didn’t think I’d see you out tonight. Still chasing wild mares?”
Avery freezes mid-laugh, her head snapping toward us like she just heard a gunshot. Harper arches a brow andmutters something under her breath that I’m pretty sure rhymes with “witch.”
I shift under Melissa’s touch, uncomfortable as hell. “Melissa. It’s a public rodeo. Not exactly hard to find people.”
She leans in, her voice dropping an octave. “You should stop by later. I’ve still got your sweatshirt.”
I grit my teeth and step back, just enough to break her grip. “Pretty sure you can donate it.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Avery standing up. Not stomping off, not making a scene. Just slowly rising with Emmy’s hand clutched in hers, her shoulders squared and face unreadable.
