24. Colt
Chapter 24
Colt
M y ribs were aching more than ever. But I didn’t have time to worry about that, not when I needed to get my shit packed up and get out of Sagebrush before anyone noticed. After Eli’s unannounced visit earlier this morning, I wasn’t sticking around so he could tell me he was leaving me behind again. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it this time. It was already almost impossible to keep the tears at bay while I packed, and I’d be damned if I was gonna cry in front of him while he abandoned me again.
I’d had more than a day to think over everything he’d said. Or the lack thereof. And the only conclusion I could come to was that he kept the job offer a secret because he was going to take it. He probably wanted to sit me down and say it had been a good couple of weeks, but he was moving on, back to the big city and something bigger, better, and less broken than me.
I shoved another handful of clothes into my duffel bag, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my side. The bruises from the rodeo were a constant reminder of my failures, both in and out of the arena. Just like Eli was a reminder of everything I couldn't have.
Biting back tears, I rushed to the window, making sure that nobody was waiting for me outside. The last thing I wanted was someone sneaking up on me and stopping me from doing what I had to do. To my great surprise, I saw only Logan’s car in the driveway at the house. Caroline’s was gone.
She’d kill me for running off like this, but I’d rather have her mad at me than face Eli. At least she’d forgive me eventually and by then, Eli would be long gone to Houston. Besides, I had a job to get to.
The last thing I grabbed before heading out the door was the torn-up letter on the coffee table. The one from the rodeo circuit in Houston. It seemed almost cruel that I should have to go there when I knew that’s where Eli would be headed. But he didn’t know that and I was certain his new office wouldn’t be next to a rodeo arena. In a city that size, he’d never even know I was there.
With the letter and my bag in hand, I left the apartment in a rush, tossing it all into my truck. My ribs blazed with pain again as I climbed into the driver’s seat. As I tore out of the ranch and onto the main road, I grabbed my phone and began to dial the rodeo coordinators number on the letter, although it took me a moment to find all the pieces.
The phone rang once, twice, three times before a gruff voice answered. “Houston Rodeo Association, this is Buck.”
I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Hi, uh, this is Colt Dawson. I'm calling about the featured rider spot?”
“Dawson? Oh yeah, the bull rider from Sagebrush. Glad to hear from you, son. We were hoping you'd take us up on it.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I swerved to avoid a pothole. “Yeah, I... I'm interested. When do you need me there?”
Buck chuckled. “Eager, aren't you? Well, we could use you as soon as possible. We’d be happy to feature you for more than one weekend. How's next week sound?”
Next week. My heart raced. That was sooner than I'd expected, but perfect for getting away from Eli and all the memories in Sagebrush. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Next week sounds great, Buck. I can be there by Thursday.”
“Excellent! We'll get you set up with lodging and everything. Just bring yourself and your gear. We're excited to have you, Colt. You’re a big deal out here and we know you’re gonna give us a great show.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I know I will too.”
I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the pain in my ribs was becoming more insistent. I must’ve messed them up trying to hold Eli’s father down during his breakdown. I gritted my teeth, focusing on the road ahead.
As I passed the “Now Leaving Sagebrush” sign, a pang of guilt hit me. I hadn't even said goodbye to Caroline or Logan. They'd been nothing but good to me, and here I was, running away like a coward. But I couldn't face them, couldn't explain why I had to leave. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in their eyes. They'd believe in me, push me to stay and face Eli. But they didn't understand. They hadn't been there all those years ago when Eli first left, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
The miles rolled by as I pushed my truck to its limits, trying to outrun my thoughts. The Texas landscape blurred past, all rolling hills and endless sky. It should've been beautiful, but all I could see was Eli's face - those amber eyes that still haunted my dreams.
My phone buzzed incessantly on the seat beside me. I knew without looking it was probably Caroline or Logan, maybe even Eli. The thought of his name on my screen made my stomach churn. I cranked up the radio, drowning out the noise.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the highway, exhaustion started to creep in. My ribs throbbed with each breath, and my eyes were heavy. I knew I needed to find a place to stop for the night, but the idea of being alone with my thoughts in some dingy motel room made my skin crawl.
Just as I was considering pulling over to the shoulder for a quick nap, I spotted a sign for a truck stop ahead. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. I pulled in, parking my truck near the back of the lot.
As I killed the engine, the silence was deafening. My phone had finally stopped buzzing, and I couldn't decide if that made me feel better or worse. Part of me wanted to check it, to see if Eli had tried to reach out. But I knew that would only lead to more heartache.
I leaned back in my seat, wincing as my ribs protested the movement. The pain was a constant reminder of everything I was leaving behind. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the future - the roar of the crowd, the rush of adrenaline as I mounted a bull. But all I could see was Eli's face, his eyes filled with concern as he'd looked at me this morning.
A sharp rap on my window startled me out of my thoughts. I jerked upright, hissing at the pain that shot through my side. A weathered face peered in at me, concern etched in the lines around his eyes.
“You alright there, son?” the man asked, his voice muffled through the glass.
I rolled down the window, forcing a smile. “Yes sir, just taking a quick break.”
He nodded, but his eyes narrowed as he took in my appearance. “You look like you've been through the wringer, boy. Why don't you come inside and get yourself a hot meal? My Elva makes the best chicken fried steak this side of the Mississippi.” He gestured back toward the truck stop and I noticed the little diner attached to one side. “We run the place.”
I hesitated, my instinct to keep driving warring with the gnawing hunger in my stomach. The old man's kindness was unexpected, and it brought a lump to my throat.
“I appreciate that, sir, but I should really get back on the road,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
The man shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “Now, I don't know what you're running from, son, but I do know that driving on an empty stomach and a heavy heart is a recipe for disaster. Come on in, have a bite to eat. The road will still be there when you're done.”
Something in his tone, gentle yet firm, broke through my defenses. I found myself nodding, slowly climbing out of the truck. The old man smiled, patting my shoulder as he led me towards the diner.
“Name's Earl,” he said. “And like I said, that's my Elva in there cooking up a storm.”
The diner was small but clean, with red vinyl booths and a chrome-edged counter. A few truckers hunched over steaming mugs of coffee, but otherwise it was quiet. Earl guided me to a booth near the back.
“Elva!” he called out. “We got a hungry young man here needs some of your special grub!”
A plump woman with gray curls peeked out from the kitchen, her eyes crinkling as she smiled at me. “Coming right up, honey. You look like you could use it.”
I sank into the booth, grateful for the moment of respite. The vinyl seat creaked under my weight, and I winced as another jolt of pain shot through my ribs. Earl slid in across from me, his weathered hands folding on the table.
“So, where you headed, son?” he asked, his voice gentle but curious.
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Houston,” I finally said. “Got a job lined up there.”
Earl nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “Rodeo, I'm guessing? You've got that look about you.”
I couldn't help but smile. “That obvious, huh?”
“Been running this stop for forty years,” Earl chuckled. “You learn to read people. Plus, those scars tell a story of their own,” he said, gesturing to my arms.
Before I could respond, Elva appeared with a steaming plate of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. The aroma made my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.
“Eat up, honey,” Elva said with a warm smile. “You look like you could use a good meal.”
I mumbled my thanks and dug in, realizing just how hungry I was. The food was delicious, reminding me of home-cooked meals I'd shared with Caroline and Logan. A pang of guilt shot through me again.
Earl watched me eat for a few moments before speaking. “So, what's got you running off to Houston in such a hurry? Trouble back home?”
I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. “It's... complicated,” I said finally.
Earl nodded sagely. “Ain't it always? Let me guess - love troubles?”
I choked a bit on my food at Earl's words. He'd hit the nail right on the head. Elva clucked her tongue and hurried over with a glass of water.
“Now Earl, don't go prying into the boy's business,” she scolded gently, patting my back.
I took a long sip of water, trying to compose myself. “It's alright,” I said finally. “You're not wrong.”
Earl's eyes softened. “Figured as much. You've got that look in your eyes - like you're running from something, but your heart ain't quite in it.”
I set my fork down, suddenly not as hungry. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to those who've been there,” Earl said with a sad smile. He reached across the table and patted my hand. “Want to talk about it, son? Sometimes it helps to tell a stranger what’s goin’ on.”
For half a second I was tempted. But then I shook my head, forcing myself to shove those feelings deep down inside of me.
“No,” I replied. “I appreciate your offer, but talkin’ is just… it’s too hard right now. And it won’t change the facts.”
“I understand,” Earl said with a sad smile, pulling his hand back. “Some things just can’t be undone.”
I nodded, going back to my plate. “That’s right.”
Even though I sat there eating, the food wasn’t the reason for my silence. I had to keep working on my meal or the emotions were going to overwhelm me. And the last thing the famous Colt Dawson would do was cry in front of strangers. Besides, he had better things to focus on than acting like a love-sick teenager.
He had a bull to ride. And he’d made it that full eight seconds or die trying. That’s what the people wanted from him. From me.
There was nothing else.