Hell, I’d buy tickets to my own ride if someone gave me the option.
My vision narrows to focus on Lanie. Her expression is tight as she withholds everything she experiences in her atypical fashion. She might be better with people than she thinks, but she’s spent so much time alone that she’s forgotten what being around others means. The sight of West’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and Billy’s hand engulfing hers while he regales her with some joke loosens the pressure building in my chest.
Coyote Falls wouldn’t be the same without any of them. I wouldn’t be the same without her.
An insecure man might rage with jealousy, seeing his best friends with their arms around the girl he loves. For me, it’s a confirmation they see the same things in her that I do—what makes her so special, so unique. I knew they’ll look after her. I’ve made sure of that. Knowing Billy and West are there to care for her lets my attention shift to the job at hand.
Wreck quivers beneath me, as yet untouched by my thighs. A pungent scent rises in the cloistered space. If animosity could be bottled, I’m sitting in a cloud of prime real estate. The bull shifts, men on either side watching both of us with a wary eye.
“Honey, we haven’t started yet. There’s a good lass.” My throat closes on the last word of banter, waiting for the mic’s sound to drop. How long can Levi gab on for?
The thought of even being a minute late might have crippled me mentally at another time, but tonight I breathe in and release control of everything, my head finally accepting other priorities. Especially after these last days spent with Lanie in my arms.
These last perfect days. None better.
Wrecking Ball huffs his impatience. Maybe one day I’ll have the conversation I need to with this bull, face-to-face. But right now, what I need is to focus.
“An uncertain bull rider is an injured bull rider.”
West’s words echo in my head, feeding the seed of doubt I have no time left to hear, along with his unspoken message neither of us voiced out of fear of jinxing the ride.
An unfocused rider is a dead rider.
I haven’t practiced or warmed up, haven’t done anything West wanted to prepare for tonight. But I put my hours to use in the way I knew best—wrapping myself in Lanie. Kissing her, holding her. Loving her. We didn’t have sex again out by the falls, though part of me wishes now that we stole that one last time.
Tripp pats my shoulder, bringing me back to where I need to be right now. I release my clenched grip on the rail and drop onto the bull, one hand sliding beneath the manila rope. Its familiar braid provides instant comfort, years of bull riding settling across my shoulders like a favorite shirt I haven’t worn in far too long. Even the protective vest cinched over my ribs is familiar as my palm closes around the small piece of leather there. An old friend.
A faint prayer whispers through my mind. I breathe easy, already retreating to focus on the ride. This has always been my place in the world. The one place where judgment can’t touch me despite the crowd’s raucous sound rippling around the arena, the opposing pole that pushes the mantle away. Until I met Lanie, where the judgment stayed away all the time.
Tonight, I’m not chasing that eight-second high to be free like I did a decade ago. Tonight, eight seconds means a life with her.
My gaze sharpens on the bull, and then I lift my head to find her. Lanie’s eyes catch mine and hold. I wink, fighting back a grin. West’ll have my balls for that, but right now I don’t give a shit. I find my seat on Wreck, breathing out.
Then I nod.
As the chute lifts, I’m not disoriented. There’s no rushing blood, no short breaths. Nothing like that hellish ride that cost me everything last time Wreck took me to hell and back in a smattering of seconds. Sixteen heartbeats I’ve recounted too many times.
Music belts from the loudspeaker, filling the arena. Not that I hear much. The white noise stays in the background. The crowd disappears, and all I see is the bull.
The beast trembles as the gate catches; then Wrecking Ball bucks beneath me. A dance I know well as his front legs come down. The world tilts and whirls with only the bull and me in its center.
Dust swirls around Wreck’s frenzied movements, not yet more than a few inches from the ground, and I know two things instantly.
My seat is good. Regardless of how the bull thrashes, this is nothing like the ride that almost crippled me for life. I have this bull. We are good.
The second thing is that something is terribly wrong.
But not with me.
Wrecking Ball rampages and skitters, bucking and throwing. His back end lands oddly, almost as though he’s woozy, his hips twisting under our combined weight. I shove that piece of information to the back of my mind. It can wait a few seconds until I’ve assured a future for the ranch, for the people who rely on me, who’ve supported me. Lanie’s face floats across my vision, but I push her back, too.
No distraction, no life pass.
I grip the braided rope tight in one hand, my other arm out for balance, though loose.Can’t touch anything.My seat is still fine, the years dropping away between catastrophe and the perfect ride.
I only need eight seconds.
Wreck doesn’t move the way he should. Something jars when he lands. The crowd blacks out as I swing about to locate the rodeo clowns. The bell dings faintly, flames cascading into the midnight sky around the edges of the arena, but I don’t need to hear any of it to know that my time is up.
