Lately, the only person I’ve spent more time with than Jessie is Dot. Jessie is at work eighty percent of the time, and Dot’s freaking great. I love hanging out with her. Jessie thinks I spend all my time at Dot’s fixing things—and I do fix things, but we also just hang out. I get takeout or she cooks, and we watch Wheel of Fortune. She bakes, and I sit at the table telling her rodeo stories. She loves hearing about my time on the road with Knox or my favorite bull rides. And I like hearing stories of Jessie as a kid, and Dot’s years of marriage to Edward. They have quite the love story.
Some might find our friendship odd, being as I’m twenty-eight and would rather hang out with her than people my own age—also, she’s notmygrandmother—but who the hell cares?
“Oh, bless your heart. I’ll be boiling water for tea as soon as you get those burners fixed.” She shuffles into the room. We dig in, splitting the chips and salsa before the tacos. “Why are you wet?” She wrinkles her already-wrinkly nose.
I laugh. “It’s sweat—I came from the gym. I figured I’d eat and fix the stove before I go home and shower.”
“You’re feeling good then? Ready to ride?”
“Yeah, I feel great. I have a doctor appointment in a couple days and should get cleared to ride. I’m entered in several rodeos over the Fourth of July. I can’t wait. I’ve missed so much.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Don’t forget to write down the channel I can watch you on.”
I nod, making a mental note to sneak and pay to have it added to her cable package for a year. Dot sets her taco down. “You’ll come back, right? At the end of the season?”
I pause, swallowing my bite, then giving her my full attention. “Yeah, of course. October first, I’ll be sitting right here at this table having a burgerandmilkshake with you.”
“I appreciate that, dear. I will be counting down the days. But I mean back to Cottonwood Valley, to Jessie.”
Oh.
Oh.
Has Jessie said something to her?I figured Dot was not on the approved list of people to share our friends-with-benefits status with.
She must see the panic in my eyes because she continues, “I see the way you look at each other, how you’ve taken care of her these last few months. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it’s a good thing. You’re good for each other.”
Apparently, I’m busted, and it’s obvious toeveryonehow much I’ve grown to care about Jessie, but I’m not sure Dot’s right regarding how Jessie feels about me. When she told me about her childhood, I felt like she wasfinallyletting me in, and she was—or is. I thought we were growing closer than ever, but since that night, she’s been more withdrawn. It’s subtle, like avoiding discussing work and future plans. She uses sex to avoid any deep conversations, and she picked up two extra shifts this week.
I’ve noticed the texts from her father are coming more frequently, because she physically tenses when she sees it’s him. I know there is more going on than she’s telling me. If I had to guess, her money problems have a lot more to do with Daryl Hawkins than Dot’s bills. I can’t figure out any other reason he would harass her so much.
From day one, Jessie has made it clear we are only temporary and has done everything possible—including building a damn pillow wall—to keep me at arm’s length. Sure, the sex is amazing, but for the first time in my life, I want more. I wanther. I can tell it’s not just me she keeps at a distance. It’s everyone in her life. So, I’ll come back at the end of the season because I won’t give up on her, even if Jessie thinks I should.
I clear my throat, unsure what to say. I only manage to nod and, “Yeah, Dot. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Mr. Bennett, how are you feeling?” my spine specialist greets me as he shuts the door behind him.
“Great, Doc. No nerve pain in weeks, and I’ve been back in the gym consistently.” I fidget on the exam table. I hate these things. The crinkly white paper, the smell of disinfectant, and the constant waiting. Why they tell you to show up to every appointment fifteen minutes early only so they can make you wait forty-five minutes to be seen is beyond me.
“I’m glad to hear that, because I reviewed your latest MRI, and I have some concerns.”
Concerns? What fucking concerns? I feel great.
He pulls up two scans of my back on the monitor. “There are clear signs of improvement. You can see the difference between your first scan and today’s scan here and here.” He circles the disks on each scan. “But unfortunately, it was a fairly bad herniation. Right now, I’d say you sit at seventy percent healed. I’d like that number to be eighty percent before you ride again.”
I run my hand through my hair in frustration. I did everything they said: took the pills, rested, physical therapy, slowly worked up at the gym.Everything. Ineedto ride again. This is bullshit. Finishing top fifteen in the world to qualify for the National Finals isn’t easy, no matter how good you ride. If I don’t get on the road and win some money, there is no chance I’ll make the national finals this year.
“And if I ride with it at seventy percent?” I ask.
“Right now, at seventy percent, I don’t feel comfortable clearing you to ride. With what you do for a living, it is very possible you will herniate it again, and that will require surgery. At eighty percent, I’ll be confident the disk is stable.”
Fuck.
“Okay . . .” I breathe out. “What do I need to do? I did everything I was supposed to.” I try, and fail, to tone down the irritation in my voice.
“Nothing. It just takes time. I know it’s frustrating, Trey, but keep doing your physical therapy exercises and come back in two weeks.”
I thank him and walk to the front desk. I pay the receptionist and schedule another appointment for two weeks from now.
