Chapter 36
Fable
“Last time I was in an arena like this, I was too nervous to take it all in,” I admitted with a laugh, settling into my seat in the front row. “But tonight? I love this.”
“Hard not to.” Harleigh handed me a beer. “Bull riding is pretty damn cool.”
I took a sip, letting the energy of the arena settle into my bones. “I want to go to the rodeo sometime. See Gatlin ride.”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, waiting for a reaction. She barely blinked, taking a slow sip of her beer before turning her attention back to the arena.
“Yeah,” she said casually. “That’d be cool.”
Hmm. That was suspiciously neutral.
I grinned to myself, leaning back in my seat. I was going to get it out of her—one way or another.
Harleigh pointed toward the arena. “This is it—the championship round. Beau’s in first, but it all depends on the bull he picked.”
“He went with Lucky Lady,” I said, watching as the crew prepped the chute.
Harleigh nodded. “Of course he did.”
I glanced at her, shifting gears. “You good with dinner after?”
She took another sip of her beer, her eyes still locked on the arena. “Yeah, of course. I like seeing you happy. It suits you.”
I exhaled, watching the dirt settle. “I’ve learned that it’s not about moving to Texas or even the dirt, you know?” I admitted, turning my bottle between my hands. “It’s about feeling safe.”
Harleigh’s gaze flicked to mine, her expression softening.
“With Mike, I was never safe.” I continued.
“I was always on edge, bracing for whatever he was going to say or do next. I thought I stayed because I loved him, but really? I was trying to build something. A family after mine had passed away. When someone convinces you that you’re so unlovable, you start to believe them. ”
Harleigh’s fingers brushed mine for a second before she took another sip of beer. “You know that’s not true, right?”
“I’m starting to.”
My throat was tight as I watched Beau settle into the chute, his thick thighs locking around the bull. All he needed was an 88.25 to take the win. He was currently third in the world championship ranking, but a win tonight would put him in the second-place spot.
The energy in the arena shifted, the hum of the crowd dulling as he wrapped his rope around his gloved hand and pulled tonight.
The camera panned to an older man behind him in the chute.
I recognized him from when I fell the first night I met Beau, so that must’ve been his dad.
Dalton was back there, pulling up on the rope.
Harleigh leaned in. “He’s a good guy, Fabs. He’s always been good. Works hard. Loves hard.”
I swallowed.
Loves hard.
I wasn’t sure why those words made my stomach flip, but suddenly, I was gripping my beer tighter, unable to take my eyes off him. Because if Beau Banks loved the way he rode—determined, fearless, like he had nothing to lose—then I was in a whole lot of trouble.
His gold helmet gleamed under the blinding arena lights, matching his signature chaps. Right before he nodded to the gate operator, he flicked his gaze to me—a quick nod, barely there. My breath caught.
And then—
The chute burst open.
I shot to my feet as the entire arena roared.
“Go, Beau,” I cried, clenching the cold steel railing in front of me, knuckles white.
“Come on, baby,” I whispered under my breath.
The ride was flawless.
The bull kicked into perfect verticals, launching into the air and slamming down with a rhythm so controlled, it was hypnotic. Beau didn’t hold on—he rode. Moved with the animal like he was the bull. He sat right in the well, balanced, fluid, unshakable.
The buzzer blared.
Beau swung off, landing hard on his knees, then quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest.
Harleigh shrieked, jumping up beside me. “He did it.”
I turned to her, breathless, my smile stretching so wide it almost hurt. “He did it.”
The bullfighters corralled the animal back into the pen before I could even catch my breath. It all happened in a blur.
The announcer shouted that Beaudreau Banks had ridden a monster ride, which was a ride over ninety points with a solid 91.2.
He stood up from the dirt, and I saw a flash of gold.
Charging straight toward me.
My heart barely had time to react before he scaled the fence in a single, effortless motion. His helmet came off, and I was caught—locked in the deep amber of his eyes, warm and burning all at once.
“Hi, baby,” he murmured.
The camera was on us—I felt it, the weight of thousands of eyes. My face went hot, my breath hitching. Before I could say a word, he cupped my cheeks and crashed his mouth to mine, stealing my air, my thoughts—everything. He devoured me.
I let him.
The arena exploded. Cheering, stomping, screaming. Harleigh’s voice rang somewhere close, but I could barely hear it over the pounding of my pulse.
Beau pulled back enough to smirk, his thumb brushing my cheek, eyes never leaving mine.
“See ya soon, Cowgirl,” he murmured before dropping back down, moving like the world was his and he had nothing to prove.
He grabbed his rope from the bullfighters, his stride easy, loose, like he hadn’t won the biggest ride of his life.
I sat down—slowly, carefully—wishing I could disappear because the camera was still on me.
I lifted a hand in a weak wave before it finally panned away. I glanced over at Harleigh, whose lips were pursed.
“Not. A. Single. Word.”
She laughed so hard she was holding her stomach. “You’ve got it bad, Fabs.”
I glanced up at the jumbo screen, watching as they brought Beau back out to the arena and interviewed him.
“Well, that was quite an exit, Beau.” The interviewer teased him.
He chuckled, pointing straight at me. “Had to make sure everyone knew how happy I was that my lady was here to see me win.”
My.
Lady.
Fuck. Me.
I could feel Harleigh’s stare burning into my shoulder, but I refused to look.
“The infamous Beaudreau off the market, then?”
“Very much so,” he answered without hesitation.
“Well, that was one hell of a ride to dedicate to her. She’s a lucky lady. Congrats on winning—”
I didn’t need to hear anything else. I turned, grabbed Harleigh’s hand, and pulled her with me.
“B-But we’re supposed to—”
“Fuck the content. We have enough. Let’s go.”
“You’re not skipping out on dinner.”
“I sure as fuck am.”
I stormed out of the stadium, unsure of why I was so mad, but flames were hot in my body.
“What’s wrong? You never leave work. I know how—”
“I hate him.” I was seething. “I hate him so fucking much.”
Harleigh nodded, letting me vent, but I couldn’t stand still. Once we reached the parking lot, I paced.
“I hate that he could just come back in and make me feel safe again, like I could trust him, like he was supposed to stay.”
My boots scraped against the pavement, the cold biting into my skin, but I barely registered it. The frustration in my chest ran hotter than the air.
“And before you say he didn’t leave, I know,” I snapped, throwing my hand toward the arena behind me. “He… checked out. He told me we’d talk later and instead of actually clearing the air, he does that.”
I huffed. “My lady? In front of everyone. Like a public claim?” My throat tightened. “He can’t ignore me in private and then act like I’m his in public, Harleigh. I don’t know if I should be pissed or—”
“I have to be real with you. What’s actually wrong?” Harleigh crossed her arms, leveling me with a look.
I stopped pacing. My throat tightened. The fissures inside my chest cracked, and the words tumbled out.
“I’m terrified.” My voice wavered. “Terrified, something bad will happen to him. That I’ll be too frozen in my own fear to help him.
That I’ll be paralyzed because of—because of what’s dirty.
” My breath hitched, but I forced myself to keep going.
“I’m scared of falling for someone because Mike was good at the beginning, but then—” My eyes slammed shut. “Look what happened.”
The words felt too big, too raw, but they kept spilling out.
“I’m terrified, Harleigh. Absolutely terrified of being with someone and walking on eggshells, of losing people I love, of trusting someone with what happened to me and then watching them run.”
Silence stretched between us, thick with everything I was too afraid to say before. Harleigh exhaled and stepped closer.
“The accident doesn’t define you,” she said softly. “I’ve told you this before, Fabs, but fuck what Mike said. He was wrong about everything.” Her eyes searched mine, steady, unwavering. “And it’s not fair to compare Mike to Beau. They are wildly different people.”
I swallowed hard, blinking up at her.
“You have every right to be mad about him running hot and cold—that’s not okay. You can’t fault him for being scared, especially if you are too.”
I was punishing Beau for ghosts that didn’t belong to him. I was holding onto fears that had nothing to do with him, using them as a shield to keep my distance and be upset with him.
Because I was scared. Of what loving someone could cost me. Of trusting the wrong person again. Of getting comfortable, of letting my guard down, of believing in something real, only to have it ripped away.
I had been here before—falling, hoping, losing. And when I lost, I lost everything.
The memories clawed up my throat, suffocating, drowning me in the past, in the paralyzing helplessness of it.
My knees gave out. I sank into the snow, barely feeling the sting of it soaking through my jeans, my hands trembling as I pressed them into the frozen ground.
I was terrified of loving. Terrified of losing. Terrified of what it would do to me if I had to survive it again.
If Beau felt even an ounce of the fear that I’d been holding onto, then I was wrong for punishing him.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, the word breaking apart as it left me.
Harleigh knelt beside me, silent, and I let myself break.