But, it turns out, my cowboy savior is a world-class dick.
“Wow, you’re an asshole,” I tell him matter-of-factly, choking out a laugh-sob.
“I do what I can. Look, I brought you a blanket. Emergency services will be along soon. Turn your hazards on. They’ll take you home, or,” he gestures vaguely in the direction of town, “wherever you need to go tonight.” I watch him climb back up the hill toward the road and wave to a tow truck that pulls up behind his partially snow-covered truck.
Dropping my head against my steering wheel, I take a deep breath. This has officially been the worst week ever. The worst month ever. The worstyearever. The kind that begins with a hospital bed and ends in a ditch.
“Callie? Callie, baby, I’m sorry.” Roger tells me over and over, as he runs his hands across me, trying to figure out if I’m hurt.
“Roger, please call 911.”
It’s the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed. The constant fighting had gotten worse, more aggressive and physical over the years. I thought when I got pregnant, we could finally relax and be the family we were supposed to be.
The night I lost the baby was the worst night of my life. The blanket of snow suffocates me as the past roars to the forefront of my mind.
I feel his hands shove into my spine an instant before I’m freefalling, face first down the stairs before landing on my stomach on the tile floor.
“Callie? Callie,baby, I’m sorry.”
I didn’t stick around. As soon as the hospital cleared me, I disappeared. I took as much as I could, jumped in my car, and started driving.
I’ve been on the road nonstop for a year with no destination in mind, no plan, just driving from place to place. Only staying a few days, or weeks, before moving on. No reason to stay anywhere longer. Just me and myself. And now, I ride in the passenger seat of some man named Tommy’s truck heading toward the only hotel in this tiny town.
Eventually, I will need to stop, settle in, and get a job. But I have enough savings from the money my parents left me, plus money I have squirreled away from Roger, to start over. But for now? I want to find somewhere that feels right.
Checking in with the older man with kind eyes behind the counter, I’m led to the only available room—a sweet, charming, single room with an attached bath in the corner of the old house-turned-hotel. The scent of laundry detergent clings to the room. The bed is made with flowered, pink linens and matching pillows cover half of it. A small writing desk and chair sit in the corner by the windows that offer a view of the whole downtown. Inspiration, Montana, a quaint rural town time has forgotten.
A small settee sits in front of the gas fireplace, which already bathes the room in warmth when I enter. In the bathroom, I find a stall shower, simple, but full of soaps and lotions with a woodsy, comforting smell. Sitting on the small sofa, I drop my head in my hands and exhale a long, exhausted breath.
I prepaid for a week, and I feel like I might just enjoy my time here, relaxing in this little room, taking a break from traveling.
Chapter 2
Hooked on an 8 Second Ride
Cash
April 26th 7:45 pm
“In Chute two, we have Ashley Colter, Inspiration, Montana! Bring some noise for the winner of…” I stop listening once the announcer gets to my accolades and awards. The stands are jam-packed tonight, despite the late spring cold snap we’re having. The weatherman is forecasting snow again later in the week.
I focus on the heaving one-ton beast beneath me, watching the breath steam from his nostrils. The barely restrained anger fueled by testosterone, the flank strap around his waist, and his indignation that I’ve dared to climb on his back, is palpable. The air smells musky, and dirt clogs my lungs.
Checking my bull rope for the third time, I give it a yank before wrapping the tail more securely around my fist. Using my left hand, I push my hat securely over my brow as my introduction ends.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Nod.
Breathe in, breathe out.
The gate swings wide, and the bull takes off out of the chute, bucking wildly. I ignore the distraction of the crowd and the barrel men.
One second.
Breathe. I tighten my thighs, trying to hold my seat.
Two seconds.
