Page 16 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I clenched my hands into fists, desperate to ignore the sensation, but it was no use. My chest tightened as panic began to build.

“I, uh, do you know where the closest bathroom is?”

“Yeah, I’ll take you to the locker room. It’s the closest one.”

Relief swept over me, and I nodded. “Thanks. I need to tell my friend first.”

I walked over to Harleigh, still brushing at my pants, trying not to let the rising panic show. “I need to use the bathroom,” I told her quietly. “I, uh . . . I fell.”

She narrowed her eyes in concern as she looked me over. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head slowly, offering a weak smile. “It’s fine.”

Before she could say anything else, the blonde rider stepped in. “I’ll bring her right back,” he said easily.

Harleigh’s eyes flicked to him, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “One piece. If she comes back in two, I’ll find you and chop your balls off.”

The guy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Noted,” he said, still chuckling.

He gestured for me to follow, guiding me away from the group toward a marked-off section with a row of fabric curtains separating the space.

“There’s a washroom back here,” he said, motioning behind the fabric panels. “Some of the guys and their families are hanging out, just a heads-up. I’ll wait and walk you back to the group when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely surprised by his kindness.

“It’s not a problem, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Damn. I was only twenty-six. Far too young to be a ma’am.

He pulled back the fabric curtain, and the space immediately overwhelmed me. The air was thick with noise—voices overlapping, laughter ringing out, the rustle of movement everywhere. Jeans, chaps, and gear I couldn’t even name were scattered across benches and piled on the floor in haphazard heaps.

People were everywhere—kids darting between legs, people chatting in small groups, a few riders lounging around like they owned the place. I caught sight of some of the bull riders with their partners, leaning close, a few stealing kisses like they weren’t surrounded by chaos.

He pointed toward a door in the back, and I forced myself to stop staring, snapping my attention away from the scene. I felt every pair of eyes on us, and my skin prickled with more discomfort.

I muttered a faint “Thanks” before rushing to the door. I pushed it open and slipped inside, turning the lock with trembling fingers.

As the latch clicked into place, I leaned against the cool metal door, letting out a shaky breath. The muffled noise from outside faded, leaving me in a pocket of silence.

My gaze shifted to the grimy sink, and unease crept over me. The faint smudges on the faucet, the water stains on the porcelain—it was far from perfect. I closed my eyes and shook my hands above the sink, trying to steady myself.

Soap and water. It’s just soap and water, I reminded myself, forcing the words to loop through my mind like a mantra.

I pressed down on the soap dispenser, the sticky pump releasing a dollop of foam onto my palm. Slowly, deliberately, I lathered it across my hands, letting the ritual take over.

Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Fable, happy birthday to you.

I rinsed my hands under the water, watching the suds swirl down the drain. Clean. I was clean. The tension in my chest loosened slightly, and I took a deep breath. One thing at a time. That’s all I could do.

I unlocked the door, already feeling lighter that the grime and panic had been scrubbed away. But as I stepped back into the little area, the rush of noise and movement hit me all over again.

I glanced around, searching for the blonde guy who’d promised to walk me back. Nowhere.

Cool, I thought. Another way to panic and die.

I tried to calm myself. I could probably figure out the way back on my own. Worst-case scenario, I’d call Harleigh, and she’d come get me. She’d make a joke, tease me a little, but she’d show up.

I reached for my phone in my back pocket and unlocked it. No bars.