Burning the Midnight Oil: A Single Dad Small Town Romance

Chapter 30

“Uncle Grady!”

Letting my camera hang around my neck, I turn my head and watch as my little bright-eyed, blonde-haired niece runs up to me, with her mom following behind at a normal pace, excitement on her face like it’s been months since she’s seen me instead of the two days it’s actually been.

“Hi, Suzy Q,” I gush, bending down and opening my arms for her to run into. “You having fun?”

“Yeah! Mommy said we can get shaved ice soon.”

“Yum, that sounds good,” I tell her as she pulls back from the hug. “I’m a little jealous.”

“Why don’t you get some too?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“I’m working, little lady, otherwise I would.”

Standing up, I glance over at my sister. “Hey.”

She smiles, but I can see the concern in her eyes. “How’s it going?”

“Good, but busy,” I reply, glancing out into the dirt. We’re in an intermission right now, but bull riding is up next. The event is almost over for the night, and it’s been a long day.

“You coming back home any time soon before you hit the road again?”

A twinge of guilt hits me in the center of my chest. After Boone cornered me in my room and insanely suggested we tell Jade about us, I decided to crash at Benji’s. That was two days ago, and I’m wishing I could hide out there forever. I don’t know what to do, or how to handle this predicament I’ve put myself in.

“I’m sure I will,” I reply to my sister, unable to look her in the eye. “Benji went through a shitty break up, so I’m just trying to be there for him while I’m here.”

It’s a lie.

If anything, it’s the other way around—Benji being there for me while I sulk. The first night I was there, we got shitty drunk together after I got home from night one of Stampede Days. I spilled my guts about everything, and when I got to the part where Boone suggested telling Jade, he was as shocked as I was.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Lie.

“You sure? You know you can always talk to me, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t shut me out,” she murmurs softly, quiet enough that I don’t think Suzy heard. “I know you’re figuring out who you are after leaving school, and I’m sure that’s been hard for you, but I’m here. I don’t want you going through it all by yourself.”

The back of my throat aches. I hate lying to my sister, but if she knew the actual reason I’ve been distant, she’d hate me. Not only that, but it would crush her. She’d feel betrayed, and knowing her, she’d question everything. She’d wonder if it started before they separated, and I just can’t do that to her.

I told myself it was only a lapse in judgement. That it was just sex. Purely physical. If that’s the case, then why did it hurt so bad to tell him it was over? Why have the last two nights been unbearable sleeping at Benji’s house, knowing that Boone isn’t just a flight of stairs away? It seems I’m not only lying to my sister, but I’m lying to myself too.

Nudging Jade gently with my arm, I say, “Thanks. I’ve just been in a weird mood lately, but I’ll be fine.”

“Will you come home tonight?” she asks. “Suzy asked for chocolate chip Mickey Mouse pancakes in the morning, made specifically by you.”

Breathing out a laugh, I remember the last time Jade tried to make her those pancakes, and she insisted that nobody made them as good as me. Despite feeling like it’s a terrible mistake, I nod. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be home after the rodeo tonight.”

She beams before saying to Suzy, “You hear that? Uncle Grady is going to make you Mickey pancakes in the morning.”

The announcer comes over the loudspeaker, letting everyone know the bull riding event is about the start. Jade and Suzy stay close, sitting in the bleachers behind me as I get ready for the first rider. It’s wild to think about how this time last year, I was working Stampede Days for the first time, hoping to be offered a full-time job with the arena. Now, here I am, working the event for the second year in a row, with the job I’d been dying to get. It may not seem like much to some people, but I’m proud of myself for following my heart. For landing a job that I could easily see becoming a career.

The first few riders come and go. They all do fairly well, and I get some great shots. Boone’s up next, and as soon as his name is announced, a chill breaks out all along my body. My eyes drift over to the chute he’s in, and I watch as he lowers himself onto the bull. Bringing the camera up, I get a few shots of him warming the resin on the bull rope before he concentrates on getting the rope just right in his left hand. It takes him a few tries, but eventually, he seems pleased with the placement.

With my camera in hand, my heart pounding in my chest, I watch as he gives a terse nod of his head moments before the chute is opened and he busts out of the gate. With his right hand in the air, left holding on to the rope, Boone’s body catapults back and forth, roughly doing anything in his power to stay on the agitated beast until that eight-second timer goes off. At one point, the bull is completely off the ground, and he kicks his hind feet to the side in a twisting, rolling motion.

A lot of people think riding broncs and bulls is the same thing just on a different animal, and to me, that’s completely incorrect. Bucking bulls have more raw power and a totally different style of movement than bucking horses do. I’ve also noticed that bulls are more likely to spin in tight, quick circles than broncos, but they don’t often run or jump extremely high the way horses do. There’s a reason American bull riding has been called the most dangerous eight seconds in sports.

Suzy’s up against the railing with me, cheering her dad on as the buzzer sounds. As I watch him get off the bull, my chest tightens and all the noise of the arena fades. His head turns, gaze finding me immediately, the same way he’s done almost all season. For anybody watching too closely, they’d probably just think he’s looking at his daughter, but I can feel his steady gaze on me. The way it has the hairs at the back of my neck standing up. The way it has my palms sweaty. Pulse racing. Heat floods my insides, and I’m suddenly hyperaware that my sister is behind me. Is she watching this happen?

Thankfully, a moment later, his eyes leave mine and drop to Suzy. He forms a heart with his hands, and she does the same. It’s something they always do when she comes to any of his rodeos. In reality, his eyes were only watching me for probably a split second, but it felt like so much longer. I don’t chance a look back at Jade. I feel like if I do, she’ll be able to read it all on my face.

Boone leaves the arena quickly as the announcer introduces Colt. He’s in the chute closest to me, and I’m able to get some great shots as he readies the rope, similar to what Boone did. He’s right-handed, so he holds the bull rope with that hand. With a nod, they open the chute, and from the very first buck out of the gate, it’s clear something is wrong. Colt isn’t as seasoned as Boone is, as he’s only been pro for a few years, but he’s just as talented.

He”s known for being a beast, for being able to predict any movement. He’s steady, focused. But tonight, he seems to be off his game. The seconds count down, and instead of rolling with the bull, it’s as if Colt can’t see which way the bull is going next. His balance is off, his movements jerky, and I can see him trying to re-adjust his grip on the rope—something you should not be doing during a ride.

The arena is silent while we watch, in what feels like painful slow motion, as all four feet lift off the dirt, the bull twisting its body from one side to another. Colt resembles a ragdoll getting tossed around, completely unable to keep his balance. He slides off the side of the bull, falling toward the ground, but his hand stays stuck underneath the bull rope. Agonizing seconds pass before his hand finally breaks free, and he collapses on the dirt. The rodeo clown and a few of the other guys rush toward him, trying to protect him from the bull who’s still bucking and spinning. They aren’t quick enough, though, because in a move so quick, the bull’s hind foot lands right on Colt’s chest. He’s lying in the fetal position, so it’s probably more of a graze, but still, a two-thousand-pound animal grazing your chest can’t feel good.

My camera hangs from my neck, my hand covering my mouth as an arena full of people wait on bated breath to see if he’s okay. They manage to get the bull out of the arena without hurting anybody else, and then movement catches in the far corner. Boone runs over to where Colt is lying, unmoving, in the dirt. He crouches down, careful not to touch him. I can vaguely make out his lips moving. He’s saying something to Colt as medical comes over and starts checking him over.

A hand presses down on my shoulder, and I turn my head, finding my sister standing beside me. Her face is pale. “I’m going to take Suzy away from here,” she says quietly. “I don’t want her seeing this.”

I nod, understanding passing through me as I look down, seeing Suzy standing there, wide-eyed, as she watches what’s going on in the arena. “I’ll let you know if anything happens,” I tell her.

She gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks.”

As they’re walking away, I can hear Suzy ask in a frightened voice, “What’s wrong with Uncle Colt? Why wasn’t he moving?”

They get out of earshot before I can make out what Jade responds with, but my heart sinks into my gut.

Several hours later,I’m sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Boone, Shooter, Sterling, Cope, Xander, Jessie, Clementine, Daisy, Conrad, and Whit are all here too, the air in the room very grim. Colt’s parents are here as well, sitting quietly on the other side of the room. Colt’s in surgery, and we’re all waiting to hear anything about how it’s going. I don’t know how long these types of things take, but it feels like we’ve been waiting forever. Nobody’s saying anything; all of us, I think, are too worried to speak.

Colt was conscious by the time they wheeled him away, which I took as a good sign. Hopefully, whatever injuries he sustained aren’t life threatening, but you just never know. And then my mind goes to his dad as my gaze flits over to where he’s sitting, his wife’s head resting on his shoulder. He nearly died back in the day bull riding. In fact, I bet his wife sat in this very same waiting room—or one exactly like it—probably just as scared as she is now. I can’t imagine being married to a bull rider is easy. And then to go through all of that with your husband, only to have your kid turn around and follow in his footsteps. As a parent, I feel like I’d never be able to rest.

Boone’s a wreck. Most of the crew here is. He’s sitting a few chairs over from me, eyes red-rimmed, and he hasn’t said much of anything since we all left the arena. It’s probably the unknown that’s messing him up the most. We don’t know anything yet, and it’s been hours. My heart is in my stomach, and the urge to go over and comfort him is strong. As quietly as I can, as to not draw attention to myself, I raise out of my chair and move down two spots, sitting down beside him.

Boone’s still in his rodeo get-up since he was barely off his own bull when the accident happened. His hat has since been removed, though, sitting atop his right knee, his hair a disheveled mess. He turns his head slightly, glancing at me as I sit down. The smallest of smiles pulls on his lips, but it’s forced, not meeting his eyes, no warmth behind them. He looks exhausted.

“Hey,” I murmur softly. Awkwardly.

He tips his chin up at me in response.

“He’s going to be okay,” I say, hopefully convincingly.

Boone scrubs a hand over his mouth a couple of times before his glassy gaze meets mine. “I hope so,” he replies, his voice cracking with emotion.