One more final.
That’s all he has left before the rest of us have a chance—one last victory, and then the throne’s vacant and ready for the taking.
And every one of us on the circuit is hungry for it.
Royce whistles low as we pass the academy cabins. “Crazy that we’ll be living over there next week.”
“Better than sharing a bathroom with your dirty ass.”
“You shared a trailer with me for the past six weeks and survived.”
“But suffered mightily,” I say.
He flips me off with his good arm.
I grin.
The truck rolls to a stop outside our parents’ place, which sits on a beautiful lot a half mile from the main house. Lights glow warmly through the windows, and before I can even kill the engine, the front door swings open.
Momma comes sprinting down the front steps, and I barely make it out of the truck before Irene Trust is wrapping me in a fierce hug.
“Oh, my boys are home,” she cries. Her voice catches a little, the way it always does after finals season.
I hug her back hard. “Missed you too, Momma.”
She pulls back immediately and cups my face in both hands, inspecting every bruise and scrape beneath the porch light.
The cut above my brow. Another along my jaw. The purple blooming beneath my right eye.
Her expression tightens more with every injury she finds.
“Axle Grayson Trust.”
I wince. Full name. Never good.
“It looks worse than it is,” I tell her.
“That’s what you always say.”
“Because it’s true.”
She gives me a look that says she knows I’m full of shit.
And I am.
My back still aches from being thrown from a bull in Tulsa three weeks ago, and my knee’s killing me again after Vegas, but I’m standing upright, and that’s a win in the rodeo world.
Momma sighs softly and brushes her thumb over the cut near my eye. “You’re going to turn my hair completely gray.”
I grin. “Wait till you get a load of Royce.”
Royce climbs carefully from the truck and promptly regrets the movement, his face tightening when his boots hit the hard ground.
She notices instantly. Her attention snaps to him as she rushes over. He tries to play it cool, but the second she hugs him, he sucks in a breath.
“There it is,” I mutter.
“Shut up,” he barks through gritted teeth.
