Chapter 35
Hadley
The crowd in the enormous entertainment center of Edmonton has the walls shaking. “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC reverberates through the indoor stadium. The biggest event of the circuit and the year, the crowd is already unhinged, and we haven’t pulled the first gate yet.
As we prep in the team locker room, the announcer’s muffled words almost blend into the thundering noise overhead.
Almost.
Knox straps his ankles before sliding his socks over, his boots next. Me, I’ve been ready, pacing for over an hour. Only now do I drop to the bench as Levi gives me a ‘sit your ass down’ look. He’s not officially part of our team, but he may as well be.
Knox is fixated on his task. He winds the tape around the other ankle, ripping it off before flattening the end down. “Gallagher comin’?”
“Doubt it,” I manage, ripping my hat off, and running a hand through my hair. A wave of dizziness washes over me.
I’m as unsettled as I’ve ever been.
Between Maggie and the ranch’s fate looming over me, my insides resemble an EF-5 tornado. Knox and I are the top two ranking riders this year, vying for the championship. So his calm comradery is not what I was expecting when he sat down beside me.
“Well, sure it’s for the best, Jonesy.”
Jonesy.
Huh.
He almost smiles as he shoves on his boots and plucks up his hat from the hook above where we sit. Grabbing up his rope and glove, he slaps my shoulder with a nod to my forearm in the cast. “May the best man win.”
“Yeah, good luck.” The words are weak, strained, and I’m anywhere but in this conversation right now. Flipping my hat to the bench, I shove my head in my hands. My leg bounces. A tight knot forms in my chest.
“Right, gentlemen. Pep talk time!” Mike, the team coach, hollers.
I force my ass up off the bench and swipe up my hat. My team shirt with all its logos littered around the sleeves and pocket is tighter over my muscles. I’ve spent the last few days honing my fitness for my best chance possible tonight.
I’ve never been a gym guy, but the benefits of pumping iron with a broken heart are many. My biceps strain the shirt. Legs like cannons . . .
Okay, that’s a gross exaggeration, but they’re bigger, I guess.
We make a circle in the center of the locker room, each of us standing round, spurs strapped on, joints taped within an inch of mobility, and hats firmly on our heads as Mike studies the men before him.
“Tonight, someone goes home with the buckle. The rest of you go home knowing you’ve worked your tail off to be here. Do not forget, for even a second, how much dedication and hard work and hurt it took to make it to this elite level. The bulls may be tough, gentlemen, but you are tougher.”
Fist bumps shoot around the group, tangled with the whoops and ‘fuck yeahs’ that the elated team rallies for.
Knox throws me a half smile and nods.
Geez, he’s either playing me or the dead-on-the-inside-cowboy got resuscitated.
“Go Bravos!” Mike shouts.
The team yells it back, punching the space over their hearts twice with a side fist. Knox does it half-heartedly. Figures, the lone wolf he is. Me, I’m lost to my misery, teetering on the edge of losing it all. So the revelry doesn’t take.
We file from the locker room to the booming rock beat and into the shadows of the darkened corridors where we’re told to wait.
The announcer starts up. “And now, the time has finally come. The night we have all been tracking toward all year. I give you . . .”
We file out into the area, chaps flapping, hats tipped down, hands swinging by our sides. “Your 2025 Pbr Championship cowboys!”
Flares shoot up around the arena fence. And as the music cuts back in, flames engulf the surface of the dirt arena, lighting up giant letters.
P B R
We walk up a ramp and onto the center stage. Heads down to track our footing in the dim light more than anything.
With every cowboy in the event up on stage, the spotlights snap on the first of us.
“From Nova Scotia, riding for the Hellcats, Wade Gillespie . . .” He goes down the line until he reaches the Bravos.
“From British Columbia, and in the top two ranks for this year, none other than HAD-LEY J-O-N-E-S!”
Knox is next and so on down the line.
I let my gaze wander up to the stands. It’s almost impossible to see anything under the stage lighting, but I search for her anyway.
It’s only when Knox gives my shoulder a shove that I’m pulled from the desperate trance and make my way back across the stage and down the ramp.
“Get it together, Jones. Or you’ll come out worse for wear.” Knox’s narrowed eyes almost look worried.
That can’t be right, he hates everything and everyone. Right?
We make our way back behind the chutes and the arena manager, who we’ve never met, is doling out safety instructions and orders like we have any hope in hell of remembering any of it.
We’re dismissed to our teams, and every cowboy starts his own pre-ride ritual. I stretch, doing some little jumps to pump up my body, but the suffocating weight of the broken heart I’m carrying makes everything harder than usual.
Focus, Hadley.
Focus on saving your damn ranch.
Biting dirt isn’t going to get you anywhere.
I roll my neck on my shoulders, and a familiar voice catches my attention.
“Hey bud, ready to take home the bling tonight?” Logan says, his painted-on smile lighting up his happy face.
“Huh, sure thing. Ready to dodge some bullets?”
“Always, motherfucker.” He hops on the spot, his Hawaiian grass skirt-inspired cut-up jeans tutu bouncing around his waist. The guy is beyond ridiculous.
Hooves thunder over dirt as the first lineup of bulls trots into the chutes. Before the adrenaline has a chance to send my head spinning, I hunker down and start helping the first cowboy gear up and strap down.
Levi is right beside me, and we make an efficient pair, working the rope around and getting everything set before the young cowboy nods his head furiously and the gate swings open.
The crowd is deafening.
The judges in the caged oval under the center stage study his every move. The bull’s every move.
The stakes are high.
The energy even higher.
My mind isn’t on the bull I drew. I can’t afford to dwell on that fact too long. Not after our last encounter.
“Jones, need you over here!” Levi shouts. Knox is lowering down onto a bull I’ve ridden, and I notice the big grey bull instantly. Terminator.
I lend a hand, and Knox is bursting out of the chute a few moments later. Why couldn’t I have drawn Terminator? That would have been a solid ride. But no, fate wants to shit all over me tonight.
Nope, not gonna think about the devil with four legs that almost cost me—
“Jones! You’re up, bud. Chute three.”
Fuck me.
Must be my lucky night, same chute number, same damn bull.
Fuck. Fuck.
My head swims, and I’m sure it’s the nerves. Not the lingering concussion from merely seven days ago. Surely not.
I shake out my hands, hauling a long, much-needed breath into my lungs. Focus. I gotta focus, is all.
I’ve rode worse bulls and made the eight. A second chance should be a cake walk . . . Right?
I slide my rope from the rails and pull the Tiffany glove from my back pocket before wandering for chute three.
Knox stands to one side with Levi as I pull the glove on.
Levi frowns. “No helmet tonight?”
“Don’t want the obstruction,” I mutter. “Every detail matters.”
Levi sighs. “Your call.”
“Give him hell,” Knox grinds out.
I hold up a fist, and he stares at it before slamming his into mine.
“Was that so hard, Knox?” I scoff.
“Fuck you, Jonesy.”
“Not likely, bud, but you might be able to give your number to the new crew.” I nod to the old guy taking photos. We both hesitate, stares honed on the guy who almost needs a walking stick to hobble toward the chute.
“Christ.” Knox is shaking his head, and that’s when I realize the lens cap is still on.
I chuckle. “Don’t think even he can help.” I pull my gaze from the old geezer and glance the chute. “Up, up, and away.”
I climb the rails and move to swing my leg over when Knox grabs my chaps.
“Break a leg, Hadley.”
“You too, Kade.”
Without another second of hesitation, I drop down onto the two tons of mad rage that tried his best to remove me from this earth once before.
“Hello, old friend.” I slap his neck.
He shoves the chute with his hard skull before jumping in the chute.
So he does remember me.
The telltale buzz of adrenaline sparks to life in my veins.
The rope slides around the bull. Levi’s got it in position as I say, “Yes, sir.”
With a head shake and a groan, he pulls it tight. I slide my gloved hand into the hand piece and curl my fingers over before hammering them down with my fist. My forearm in the cast aches with each harsh hit.
The microphone overhead crackles. “Hold your breath, folks. Here comes the duo that stopped the nation eighteen months ago.”
The announcer pauses for dramatic effect, and I slam my eyes shut. This one is for the girls.
Mom, Kales, Gem, Nini, and Sunshine.
I picture them all the last time we were together and happy.
At the table at the ranch. The girls laughing at some dad joke Nia told. Snuggled on the sofa with them watching that stupid Bachelor show they fuss over . . .
Who aren’t here tonight despite the shorter trip because apparently they will not condone me killing myself.
In the saddle, loping around the round yard, Maggie against my chest, her laughter drifting through the treetops as the wind whipped past us.
“. . . easy cowboy?” an unfamiliar voice says. I look up to see the arena manager bent over the chute.
“Sorry, I got to re-strap.”
I peel my fingers from the hand piece and slide it out. Shoving it back in, I go through the same procedure again.
This time, I hone my focus.
To Hells Bells.
The devil I know.
The devil that smashed my body to pieces eighteen months ago.
“Now this pairing right here,” the announcer drawls, “was almost a fatal one, this time a year and a half ago. These two know each other well. In chute number three, say hello to Hells Bells! And the man who came back to tame his archnemesis, HAD-LEY J-O-N-E-S! He’s fighting for the hardware tonight, folks, and injured to boot, so give it up! ”
With a last glance around the arena, as if I could see my family sitting there. Sunshine perched on the rails with her camera in hand and ready to go . . .
I rest my cast arm on the chute gate and nod. “Send it!”
The gate flies open.