Rodeo Showdown & Kisses
Cash
The final rodeo of the season is supposed to be another two night event. Town’s buzzing with it, barbecue smoke curling into the sky, fiddles warming up on the fairground stage, and banners flapping in the warm breeze like they’ve got something to prove.
But I’m a million miles from cheerful.
I lean against the fence near the chutes, boots dusty, hat low, arms crossed like they might keep my insides from unraveling. Cowboys mill around, slapping backs, tipping hats, adjusting ropes. Normally, I’d be right there with them. Laughing. Competing. Focused.
Not today.
Today, all I can think about is Avery. And the road she’s on. And whether that road leads back to me, or takes her farther than I can follow. I keep replaying the last time I saw her, the way her hand lingered just a second longer on the doorknob before she turned it.
She said goodbye. And that she needed to do this. Said it quietly, like she was afraid if it got too loud, it might become permanent. I told her I’d be here if she needed me, but I didn’t say the thing I should’ve, I love you. And now, that silence between us feels like a canyon I don’t know how to cross.
She said it was just a day. One meeting. She packed a bag to spend the night at her apartment. But I’ve lived enough years to know that the first step is often the one that changes everything.
The scent of cinnamon kettle corn and grilled sausage drifts past, and it should make me smile. Should make me feel like I belong here, in the thick of it, where I’ve always felt most alive. But right now? It’s just noise around the ache in my chest.
“You look like someone stole your horse and kicked your dog,” Harper says behind me, her tone light but probing.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s holding Emmy on her hip, the little one waving a tiny flag and chewing on a churro like it’s a serious responsibility.
“Just tired,” I mutter.
“Mmm,” Harper says, clearly not buying it. She adjusts Emmy’s hat, then hands her off to me. “Well, maybe this’ll help.”
Emmy wiggles in my arms and grins up at me. “Cash, are you gonna ride the big bulls?”
“Not today, sweetheart. I’m just watching this time.”
She pouts. “But you always ride. You’re the best.”
That small, simple truth nearly knocks the wind out of me. I kiss the top of her head and hold her a little tighter. “Not today,” I say again, voice rough, like gravel dragged through longing.
Harper watches me, arms folded. “She’ll come back, you know.”
I want to believe her. God, I do. But hope feels like a razor’s edge, too easy to bleed on. I just shake my head and set Emmy down.
She dashes off toward the petting zoo, squealing when she spots a goat in a party hat, her laughter floating behind her like wind chimes in a storm.
“Go on,” Harper nudges. “You need the distraction.”
So I follow her and Emmy to the stands, take a seat near the arena where the crowd’s buzzing with excitement. Horses thunder past in warmups. The announcer’s voice crackles over the speakers, full ofbravado and cowboy grit. But it’s all static in my ears compared to the silence Avery left behind.
I scan the crowd, part of me foolishly hoping I’ll see her there. That she changed her mind. That she came back.
But the stands are filled with familiar faces, and none of them are Avery.
The rodeo kicks off in a blur of broncs and barrels, crowd roaring with every clean run and wild buck. I smile when Emmy cheers from Harper’s lap, cotton candy on her chin and joy in her voice.
And even though my heart is somewhere else, I hold onto that moment like a lifeline. Because right now, it’s all I’ve got. I can't imagine these three people in my life moving back to the big city and leaving me here to do what?
When the sun dips behind the hills and the last of the rodeo dust settles, I find myself standing alone outside my truck. The fairgrounds are emptying fast, families piling into pickups, kids falling asleep with boots still on, laughter and tired chatter drifting into the twilight.
But all that joy feels like it’s happening behind a glass wall I can’t reach through.
Harper offered to take Emmy back and put her in bed. Said she had a new storybook to read and would make popcorn even though it was already way past bedtime. I didn’t argue.
