Chapter 27 He Didn’t See My Balls
HART
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MY brOTHERS ARE relentless.
I swear, their hobby is torturing me—a nice, slow, constant torture.
“You gotta ride the bull.” Dean grins like a toddler with a fistful of cake frosting.
Beer foam laces his facial hair like he face-planted into the same tub of frosting.
“You ride the fucking bull.” I take a few steps back to my seat, and swig of my beer, wiping my upper lip before I end up looking like that foam-faced fool.
“Ahhh, big brother is chickening out.” His shitfaced grin should come with a warning label.
Stupid when drinking.
Stupid when sober.
Just stupid and loud around the clock. Maybe he needs an on-off button instead.
He clucks like a chicken under his breath.
Yeah. I am chickening out. Doesn’t he remember the damn fire ants? My balls aren’t going to let me forget anytime soon.
Everything below the waist feels sandblasted. Even my damn legs are spread just a little wider than usual on this stool. Gotta give my skin air and space, and cream—which I’ll buy tomorrow.
“Let him be. After yesterday’s incident, maybe this is a challenge he’s not ready to take.” I can’t tell if Levi is being a smug prick or sincere.
It’s hard to tell anymore. He used to be a miserable, smug prick.
For years.
I understood that side of my brother. It’s a crapshoot now—smugness or sincerity, and I’m never sure which I’m dealing with.
That’s likely a me problem, considering my talent seems to be finding the worst in people.
Either way, it rubs me the wrong way. He rubs me the wrong way, and I know it has everything to do with the stark realization that Jade kept the portable CD player.
All these years, into her adulthood. And she’d listened to it.
My heart breaks for her, and the stark reality that I did that to her reminds me why I don’t deserve her, why I shouldn’t take her sister’s advice and talk to her.
So, I don’t. I stay silent, but it’s so bloody painful.
“It’s alright, big guy.” Bronx’s heavy hand drops on my shoulder.
His fingers press into my skin—too firm to be accidental.
I stiffen.
If my eyes could speak, they’d spit venom at him.
“I’ll ride double for both of us.” He’s standing now, chest out, like this is a contest, and he’s hell-bent on coming out on top.
Or on top of Jade.
Or under her.
Why the fuck did she choose him?
I take another swig of my beer, hoping the alcohol will numb the throbbing in my crotch and my brain.
It doesn’t.
“Sit down.” Josie tosses a handful of peanuts at him. “No one wants to see you break your old man bones.”
Bronx cracks his knuckles like a loaded gun, eyes locked on the bull.
“Don’t worry about me, kid. I’ve been around long enough to handle myself.”
“I’m not worried.” She crosses her legs on the stool and sips her drink slowly with a straw.
“I can ride out a rough patch and come out on top.” He rolls his shoulders, loosening up like a rodeo pro about to compete.
“Gross.”
I agree with Josie.
It doesn’t stop Bronx from mounting that machine and making a complete ass of himself. And by ass, I mean he’s a damn pro on that bull.
He grips the saddle with one hand and throws his other arm high into the air, saluting. “Hope y’all brought your cameras. This ride’s worth savin’.”
“Sure, ‘cause folks’ll wanna remember what not to do.” Josie roasts him like she’s on my team.
I’ve never appreciated her more.
The bull jerks sideways, and he leans with it, laughing.
He lets out a loud “Yee-haw!” just as the bull bucks hard enough to jolt most people off.
“I’ve danced with tornadoes calmer than this.”
“I’d love to see you tango with a tornado.” Josie sets her almost full glass on the table. “Bet it’d end in a pile of rubble.”
The bull spins, and he whips his free arm around to balance, never missing a beat.
The bar goes wild.
Our group goes wild.
Jade cheers for him the same way she used to cheer for me at my football games. Of course, she did it silently on the sidelines because back then, a Fox couldn’t cheer for a Wilde.
I knock back more beer, trying to drown all the thoughts racing through my mind. The stark reality is, I can’t stop whatever happens between them. His assurance that he doesn’t plan on sleeping with her doesn’t rank high on my list of believable events today.
Hell, I have zero control over who she chooses to date or marry, or spend the rest of her life with. And the idea of her doing either with another man chases another beer down the hatchet.
And another.
Everyone else takes their turns trying to tame the bull, while I gulp down drink after drink. I’ve become the unofficial bartender, making sure the pitchers keep flowing so we don’t run out.
It’s selfish of me.
What else is new?
My coming on this trip was selfish, and I see now it was a mistake. But the more I drink, the less I’ll feel, right?
Wrong.
I hear my slurring. Feel the stumble in my walk. And every emotion is jacked up louder than usual.
Especially jealousy.
Especially when it comes in the form of the tall, smug bastard with his tattooed arm wrapped around Jade, but his other one is around Harper, so maybe the touch is innocent.
Doubt it.
Bronx is back on that damn bull.
Jade’s on next.
I swear it’s just a competition between the two of them now. Or is it in my head? Is Natalie riding as many times? And my brothers?
I can’t tell anymore.
I finish off the next glass, realizing it’s easier to drink away my emotions when I’m not sitting near the woman who triggers them.
Then someone shouts, “You two should ride it together!”
Laughter.
Whistles.
Bronx grins like someone just handed him a toy from the toy shop. “I’m game if you are, darlin’.”
Darlin’? Is he using “darlin’” on Jade?
Her cheeks bloom a soft pink. Whether from the suggestion or the warmth of riding, leaves me guessing.
“I mean, it’d be hilarious—”
“No way,” I mutter under my breath.
“Big Mike never lets two people on,” someone behind us chimes in.
“Exactly.” I nod into my beer.
See? Justice exists.
But then Josie slips away from our table. I watch her make a beeline for Big Mike.
They talk.
She smiles sweetly, and he flirts right back.
And when she comes back, she looks way too proud of herself.
“It’s a go.” She gives thumbs up and, just like that, switches over to team Bronx.
My stomach flips.
Natalie’s eyes catch mine in what appears to be a desperate look for me to do something. What does she want me to do? Drag Jade outside and confess my ever-dying love?
Her sister scowls and nods her head in their direction.
Shit. Fuck. Seriously? I’m too wasted for this.
Without thinking, I shoot to my feet. “My turn.”
Did the whole room just spin?
Nope, I’m pretty sure it’s just me.
Wonderful.
“You think you’re up for that?” Levi spins on his stool, his leg jutting out just enough to block my path.
“Yeah.” I guzzle back the rest of my beer and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
Levi’s eyes follow mine as I slam the glass on the table. “Look, Hart, I know you’re feeling bold, but after all your drinks and the ants, maybe the bull isn’t the best idea right now.”
He still doesn’t move that leg of his.
“Nah, man. I’m feeling good. A couple of beers never stopped anyone from riding, right? Ask Sterling.”
“Except it’s more than a couple and right now, your ‘good’ decisions are a little fuzzy.”
I shove his legs out of the way. “I’ll show y’all how it’s done.”
“That’s what I like to hear! Show ‘em, man!” Bronx in my corner is unsettling.
I ignore the fist he leaves out for me to bump and walk straight to the bull.
I have the balance of a sleepy goat. I can see this going sideways fast, but it’s not registering as a problem.
I mount the bull. No issues. Besides the ground slanting under me. I grip the saddle, fingers a little stiff, but I’m holding on.
“You alright there, bud?” Wyatt’s standing at the railing.
“All good.” Until my eyes lock on Jade’s.
The world narrows. The noise around me fades to a distant hum. For a split second, I forget the bull beneath me, the crowd around me, even the alcohol swimming in my veins.
It’s just her.
She’s the reason I’m up here. That surge of protectiveness bubbles up fierce. That’s what I’ve always done. Protect her. She might not know it, but I’d do anything to keep her safe.
Anything.
Including this.
The bull jerks beneath me, and that’s when I realize I’m sittin’ crooked. My body shifts sideways, unbalanced, and in that split second, my groin gives a sharp reminder of the ant bites. The pain spikes, sudden and brutal, and I fall off like a sack of wet laundry.
“Shit,” one brother curses.
“Ouch,” another one chimes in.
“What the hell?”
I can’t register who says what, as my body hits the padded ground and knocks the air from my lungs.
Shit is right.
I hear the laughter. It might grate me more if I weren’t seeing double.
“Get back on,” Bronx taunts.
Why does his voice stand out so distinctly?
“Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got.”
I glare at him. “You think I’m done?”
He shrugs, a grin plastered on his face. “I think the bull’s done with you, but sure, give it another shot.”
I don’t glance at Jade. I can’t.
With a grunt, I grab the saddle again and climb back onto the bull. A wave of discomfort hits.
My brain’s already shouting at me to get off, but there’s no way I’m retreating now.
“Ten bucks says he doesn’t make it five seconds.” Bronx slaps a bill on the table, a quick, confident motion.
Dean counters, tossing a larger bill with a smirk, “Twenty bucks says less than three seconds. I saw the bite marks on his balls and there ain’t no way he’s staying on.”
“He didn’t see my balls!”
I’m going to be the walking target for every ball and cock joke within a hundred-mile radius.
I take a deep breath. This time, I’m staying on. And I do, for all of four seconds before I rush to meet the ground. The impact rattles my teeth.
For a moment, I think I’m just gonna die right here. My whole body aches, but nothing’s more painful than the burning sensation between my legs.
My brothers erupt in laughter. The sting between my legs is enough to make me swear off ever doing anything remotely fun again.
I sit up, groaning as I clutch my crotch.
My brothers are losing it.
Dean’s doubled over. “You still got ants in your pants?”
I glare at him through gritted teeth.
“Shut up,” I mutter, trying to stand.
But standing straight?
It’s a damn struggle.
I straighten with a grunt.
“Next time, ride with some aloe vera,” Dean heads to the bull for his turn.
“Crank it up to full!” I shout at the operator, stepping in front of my brother.
Three. Four. Five.
My next attempt, I get cocky and raise my hand, yelling, “Yeehaw!”
I instantly regret it. I hit the floor.
The crowd is laughing.
I am sweating, but I keep getting back on. Because if I don’t, he’ll get on with her.
As I straddle the beast again, the lights start to flash and swirl around me, dizzying in their intensity.
My stomach lurches, a tight knot forming deep inside. I try to steady myself, gripping the saddle, but the bar tilts, spinning faster than I can keep up.
And then, just like that, I know.
I slide off the bull, my legs giving out beneath me as I stumble forward a few steps. My stomach flips violently, and before I can stop it, everything comes rushing up. Right here, in front of the entire crowd.
The sound of my stomach emptying onto the floor rings louder than the reactions.
That ends the night quickly.
The walk back to the campground feels like forever, mostly because I have to stop every few steps to either dry heave or lean on a fence post.
“Shouldn’t have gotten on that bull,” I mutter.
“Shouldn’t have drunk so much.” Wyatt is my designated walker after everyone else took off ahead of us.
I pause to swallow down another wave of nausea. “I regret it.”
He snorts. “Not as much as you’re gonna in the mornin’. I know you. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself for letting whatever’s bugging you get the best of you.”
I wave my hand at him. I just can’t right now.
When I finally make it to my tent, I collapse face-first on the inflated mattress.
“You good?” Wyatt stands outside my tent.
“Define good.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Fair.”
My eyes close, and I try to focus on breathing and not barfing.
Then I hear it.
Moaning.
Low.
Male.
Smug.
From Bronx’s tent.
“Hell no.”
I sit up too fast—bad idea. My stomach flips like a coin.
I stumble out of my tent and trip over a cooler. I manage to make it behind the bus just in time to puke again. I take a piss while I’m here, then decide to crash at the campfire. I can’t listen to Bronx fuck—whoever he’s fucking.
I drop onto one of the folding sofas. The sky and trees are a blur, then slowly everything rights itself.
I’m not sure if I fall asleep or how long I’m lying here. But my eyes pop open when I hear footsteps.
I see Jade.
It doesn’t matter how far away she is I’d recognize her anywhere. She’s walking away from the cluster of our tents.
Hair messy.
Shirt rumpled.
Barefoot.
Something cold lodges in my chest. She sees me and walks in my direction. She’s about to talk, but I cut her off.
“You slept with him?”