I shot him a sharp glare. If looks could kill, he would already be six feet under. “Well, I’m saying something about looking.”
Four heads snapped toward me with widening eyes and raised brows, but I held my chin high, standing my ground. Even if Mikey’s comments were only meant as jokes toward me, I didn’t want them bringing her into it.
Sure, I was quiet and kept to myself most of the time, but Sierra wasn’t just any girl.
No, she was special. She was the type of girl people wanted to go to bat for and defend in rooms and conversations she wasn’t in.
I’d defend her to the grave.
“I was kidding, Haydie.” Mikey raised his hands in resignation. “But I hear ya.”
“Let’s just go,” I grumbled. I didn’t want to stand here and talk about Sierra. Talking about her would only lead to questions—questions I wasn’t sure I knew the answers to anymore.
And the answers I did know weren’t mine to share.
“Man, it’s great to be back in our hometown, isn’t it?” My roping partner, Keenan Chase, patted me on the shoulder after he’d tracked me down.
Keenan was my closest friend growing up. Our parents were best friends—our dads worked together at the Gulch County Sheriff’s Office before his dad medicallyretired—so we’d practically known each other since the womb. We both grew up in Goldfinch, then competed in high school rodeo together before ultimately going separate ways for college.
Keenan had gone to school in Wyoming, and I’d stayed to compete on the SGU rodeo team. When we graduated from college, we kind of fell out of touch—Keenan moved to Nebraska, and I moved to Silver Creek—but happened to reconnect last year before the NFR. After a day of playing catch-up, we decided to enter up together for the following year. It’d be just like old times, except we were much better than we were as teenagers.
“Mm-hmm,” I grunted in response.
“Come on, Hazey. What’s with the sad face?” Keenan poked me in the ribs.
I side-eyed him, eyes narrowing as I scrunched my nose. “That’s just my face.”
“Nah, you’re not normally this…broody. Does it have anything to do with a certain someone whose nickname rhymes with tippy?” He seemed to take the hint with the glare I gave him, because he threw his hands in the air in surrender. “Hey, I was just curious. Have you?—”
“We ran into each other earlier. Her dog jumped on me.” I chuckled. “She ran off pretty quickly after, though, so no. And this was the first time I’ve seen her in…”
Five years, my brain screamed in my ear, filling in the blanks I didn’t want to say aloud.You haven’t seen her infiveyears.
I coughed. “It’s been a long time.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, dude. I know you two were close. I, uh”—Keenan scratched his head—“I don’t know exactly what happened after we graduated, but I’m here if you wantto talk about it.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, knowing it probably wouldn’t be something I talked about. With anyone. “I’m going to warm up Peanut Butter.”
Keenan laughed, his eyes squinting to slits as his shoulders shook. “Man, I can’t believe your dad let you name that horse Peanut Butter.”
I shrugged. “I was fourteen.” The name may have been a tad ridiculous, but it was special to me. It meant something.
I started running Peanut two years ago for competition. I ran her in practice arenas a lot when I was in college and just starting my professional career. She was young, although competition came naturally to her—a good thing, because two years ago, the horse I ran all throughout my childhood and college suddenly passed. Team roping required not only a reliable human partner, but also a reliable horse, and Peanut was consistent. Plus, it seemed special to compete with the horse who grew up with me…and Sierra.
“Hey, girl.” I patted Peanut’s neck, and she chuffed in greeting.
I tacked my horse, careful to double-check all of the equipment to make sure everything was tight and secure, then warmed her up, taking a couple laps around one of the smaller pens behind the main rodeo arena.
When I was on the back of a horse, the world around me seemed to pause. Equine therapy was a thing for a reason. The animals were great for emotional regulation because they mirrored a person’s emotions. A horse could sense your anxiety or stress, so it was important to keep your emotions in check. Throughout the years, riding became my comfort, my stress relief. It also didn’t hurt that some of my best memories involved horses and Sierra.
“It’s a beautiful day for a rodeo. We’ve got some talented cowboys and cowgirls competing today. Let’s kick off the fun with bareback riding!” The rodeo announcer welcomed the crowd after the National Anthem played and a prayer wishing safety on all the participants was said.
I hadn’t seen Sierra since our run-in earlier this morning. I was sure we’d both been warming up our horses and preparing for competition, but it still didn’t stop me from looking for her.
“You must be real down bad for that girl, Haydie.” Jake laughed.
I crossed my arms, feigning disinterest. “What do you mean?”
