I send it. Lock the phone. Press it face down on the bed.
Then I unclasp the gold chain from my neck. Hold the little A in my palm. Close my fingers around it until the edges bite into my skin.
I put it in the drawer beside my childhood bed and close it.
My phone is ringing, piercing into my skull. Over and over. Texts. Calls. I can’t move. I can’t physically open my eyes. I can’t stop crying.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Ace
"Ace. Concentrate," Jett hisses, stepping beside me at the chutes.
I check my phone again. Nothing. No texts. No missed calls. Just the last message I sent an hour ago, sitting there unread.
"I can't concentrate. My girl isn't here, and she isn't answering my calls." I keep my voice low. This ain’t the conversation for a rodeo, I don’t need anyone around me knowing my business.
"She's probably on her way. You've got ten minutes until you're out." Jett grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. "Head in the game or you'll get hurt. Think about that."
I hear the heavy footsteps before I see him. I know Colten is behind me without turning around. The weight of his boots on the dirt. The way the air shifts when he's close.
"What?" I ask, turning.
I glare at Jett. He's got my brothers involved. Of course, he has.
"Give me your phone, Ace," Colt says.
"No."
His jaw twitches. "I will keep calling her. Okay? I'll get through. But you cannot take that phone into the chute."
I drag a hand over my face. The noise of the arena is building around us. And all I can hear is the silence from Harper's end of the line.
"Let me call her mom."
Colt nods. I pull up the contact and hit dial. It rings three times.
"Hi, Ace." Her mom's voice is warm, but there's a tightness underneath it. "I'm so sorry. Harper's been really unwell. Throwing up. She's asleep now."
My stomach drops. "Does she need a doctor? Do I need to come home?"
"We've got her, Ace. I promise. She's going to be fine. Just focus on winning for her, okay?"
There's something in the way she says it that doesn’t sit right.
"Thank you," I say. We exchange goodbyes, and I end the call.
I hand the phone to Colten. My chest is still tight. My gut is still churning. But knowing she's home, knowing she's safe with her mom, gives me just enough ground to stand on.
"She's sick," I say.
But, I’m not convinced I believe it. She was fine last night. Fine this morning.
Colt grabs both sides of my face. Pulls me close. His eyes are locked on mine. The same eyes that watched me fall off my first horse and told me to get back on. The same eyes that held me together after Dad died.
"Get out there. Ride better than you've ever ridden in your life. Eight seconds, brother. You've got this."
"I've got this. I promise."
