Page 155 of We Drank the Dawn

She’d be proud of me for putting myself out there.

My name rumbled over a speaker.

Then I shoved out all thoughts of her. Shoved away all scents and sounds and sensations—funneling my focus through the dark, to Giddy-Up-Girl’s shoulders, to the way her muscles flexed. My thighs clenched around her, my heels preparing to lift for the mark-out.

Excitement thrummed through my veins as I anticipated the way my stomach would drop when we launched into the air. After barely living for so long, it felt like flying.

Rolly gave me a count down.

And the chute opened with a bang.

FIFTY-THREE

Sarah

My legs propelled me out of my seat on the bleachers, my hands flying to cover my mouth. Wide-eyed, I watched as the metal gate on the chute swung open, as Giddy-Up-Girl surged into the arena, jumping and kicking her legs.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink, as I watched Peter’s body move like a rag doll.

My jaw hung in disbelief—how had he learned to do that?

He held one hand above his head, the other gripping a short fat rope near his chest. He held his feet high by her shoulders and leaned back as she jumped forward and kicked, over and over again. A laugh, or maybe a scream, built in my throat.

Please don’t fall, I silently begged him. Don’t fall.

My heart wouldn’t survive him tumbling to the ground.

And even though I’d watched dozens of cowboys ride before Peter, I startled at the loud buzzing sound indicating his eight seconds were up. A yell of excitement ripped from my lungs as I jumped and clapped. I cupped my hands around my mouth and called his name.

He leaned forward, slipping his feet out of the stirrups, and jumped off. A shoulder and a knee crashed into the dust as he tucked into a roll then hopped up and jogged toward the fence as two men on horses rushed after Giddy-Up-Girl.

He put his hands on the top rung of the fence and climbed over.

Almost immediately, he was out of sight and a number was called over the loud speaker. I thought it might have been his score, but I was too focused on his whereabouts to even register what number it was.

My gaze scanned the far side of the fence, sweeping the area and trying to locate him again. Swiping my backpack off the bench, I moved closer—through the bleachers, into the aisle, and down to the barrier—desperate to get to the lower path.

There were two fences with a path running between them. One stood off the ground, separating the elevated seating from the rodeo’s ground level. And the second fence was on the ground, looping around the actual arena. At the end of the bleachers were openings with stairs that allowed guests to access the path below.

If I could just talk to him for a minute. As much as his letter, gift, and voicemails had meant to me, I needed to see his face. I needed to watch his eyes when he realized I’d come to see him. Would there be life and fire in them?

My heart thumped as anticipation skittered through my veins. I tried to discourage the way hope broke the horizon in my chest. But his words played in my memory, providing lyrics to a new song beating in my heart.

“We’re going to make it through this night. I believe that.”

My legs urged me down the barrier fence, my gaze scanning the path below as I went. Weaving between guests that loitered in the walkway, I picked my way toward the opening that led to concessions, doubting the entire time that Peter would emerge from that direction. Biting back a growl of frustration, I stopped, looking back over my shoulder.

From the opposite direction, Peter rounded the corner of the arena.

Turning on my heel, I pushed toward him, unable to call out as my throat tightened with a blend of countless emotions. He stalked toward the bleachers, a hand coming out to touch the fence beside him every few steps. I couldn’t see his face under the rim of his cowboy hat, but there was a pep in his step. I wanted to laugh—he looked like a cowboy. He had boots, a flannel shirt, and even a belt.

He got closer, closer.

And the laugh morphed into a desperate sound deep in my throat.

I wanted nothing more than to curl into the crook of his neck and let him hold me. But so much needed to be said. There were real problems that needed to be dealt with before we could pretend everything was okay. But, good gracious, I missed him so much.

Unable to make it to a staircase before he passed me, I stopped, my hands curling around the top of the barrier. He walked, oblivious of my presence directly above the path. I opened my mouth to call his name, but emotion choked me.