‘His ego is going to be insufferable,’ I said, sipping on my beer but unable to hide my own smile.
‘I don’t think he’ll give a fuck now you’re home,’ she replied over the noise of the next announcement. The first rider was climbing into the bull pen, already struggling as the animal did its level best to smash him against the steel bars.
I shivered, folding my arm round myself, wishing I could go back there again and force Jesse to leave – just pull him right out of there and never look back.
Trying to distract myself, I focused on Lottie’s words: the way she’d saidhome, even though this was neither hers nor mine. But then, neither was London, technically. And it sure as fuck wasn’t that miserable hole in the Surrey suburbs where I’d grown up with my stepfather.
But this place – Jackson – had begun to feel something like home, even though I was barely more than a tourist. Turning it over and over, it wasn’t until I glanced back up at the big screen as the announcer talked through the upcoming riders in more detail, the camera settling on Jesse one more time, that I suddenly got it.
With a jolt that felt almost physical, I realized it was the people, the connections I’d made, that gave me a sense of being at home here. That home could simply be people – a person – not necessarily a place, felt like a revelation so huge that when Jesse glanced up into the stands, his eyes tracking across the seats, it took everything I had not to run up to the ledge and jump up and down like a fucking lunatic until he saw me.
I knew then, reaching over to give Lottie a brief but hard hug and kiss her temple, why it felt like more than love for Jesse.
He felt like home.
‘What was that for?’ Lottie smiled, a quizzical expression blooming as the first rider was released out of the gate.
We both winced as he hung on for dear life – but with a particularly evil buck he was unseated, tumbling down into the dirt. The crowd groaned and began to clap as he walked away unscathed, the wranglers in the arena forcing the bull away into its pen.
‘For never giving up on me,’ I replied, all but shouting into her ear over the noise.
‘I’ve always got you,’ she shouted back, her eyes fierce. ‘You’re never alone, Hes. Especially not now.’ She gestured towards Jesse, now visible as he sat on top of the gate.
I fought back more tears as I nodded, focusing on breathing steadily as I realized he was up next.
‘What’s the prize money for this, then? If he does win?’ I asked, my thoughts drifting to his mum and what a difference this could make to her alone.
‘It’s a big one,’ she said, also transfixed by the sight of Jesse in the pen, adjusting his left-handed grip, raising his right hand slowly. ‘If he wins outright, it’s a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the sponsors come rolling back in. Cole told me Ariat and Wrangler have come knocking in previous years, and that’s big money.’
‘Shit,’ I murmured, feeling a mix of pride in Jesse’s obvious skill and utter terror as the announcer proclaimed his bull to be something of a Livingston Peak legend, known for his vicious temper.
‘Hold my hand,’ Lottie instructed, waiting for me to grip it tightly. ‘It’s just eight seconds, then it’s over.’
We waited, everything else forgotten as the screens zoomed in, the bull fighters in the arena assuming their positions. Then, with a crack, the gate swung open, the crowd roaring in response.
Everything stopped. My body became stone, only my eyes able to move as I watched Jesse – the person I’d crossed half the world for, the man I loved,my home– on the back of something that could kill him.
The bull leapt clear of the ground, the huge digital timer above the arena counting up towards eight. Each second felt like a lifetime. But Jesse held on, his bound right arm raised just high enough despite the injury, utterly in line with each twist and turn of the bull. The crowd was screaming, the announcer proclaiming an incredible ride, when the buzzer sounded – and in one smooth motion, Jesse leapt off and landed with perfect ease in the dirt.
I let go of my breath as everyone around us shot to their feet, Lottie yelling with them. But in the next second, as Jesse turned to grin at the crowd, the bull – still spinning and bucking – turned too. And as Jesse pivoted to get out of the way, the bull put its head down and slammed him, side on, into the steel barrier.
He crumpled to the ground. A collective gasp made its way round the stadium as Lottie screamed his name, looking back at me as my legs began to give way.
‘Oh my God,’ I choked, leaning on her, my hands grasping at the wall beside us as the bull fighters rushed over to him. Seconds later, the bull was secured and paramedics ran out into the arena. ‘Oh fuck, Lottie, no, no, no . . .’
‘It’s okay. It’ll be okay,’ she cried, but the uncertainty in her voice made what little strength remained in my body give way.
‘Is she all right, ma’am?’
I heard voices coming closer, felt Lottie shaking as she held onto me, refusing to let go.
‘C’mon now, honey, stay with us,’ a new voice said. ‘She ever pass out before like this?’
My head whirled, my pulse pounding as cool hands touched my forehead for a moment, fingers pressed to my wrist.
‘Jesse – the bull rider just out there – she’s his . . . girlfriend.’
‘Oh, damn. Okay. C’mon, sweetheart,’ the voice said. ‘Let’s get you some air. Jesse’s gonna be just fine. Looks like he’s conscious, okay? He’s doing better than you right now.’
