Chapter 17
T he bull riding community is small. Sure, it's spread wide, but it's still pretty close knit.
As a result, news traveled like wildfire.
If management thought that keeping my mouth shut would quell the news that one of the boys sexually assaulted me, they were crazy.
When I walked into the locker room, all sound stopped.
Not just the chatter, though I had no doubt that ninety percent of it was about me anyway, but all sound.
The whole room just went still and I wanted to run away.
Instead, I held my head high, looked out of the corner of my eye to make sure Branch and Dylan were still beside me, then walked over to the lockers.
Not the ones near the bathroom doors though.
I tried not to look at those doors at all.
I had an apology to make first. I walked over to the Brazilian riders, and they watched me warily. Davi couldn’t meet my eyes. I looked at the group. It seemed wrong without Miguel there. “I’m sorry, about Miguel.”
One of the other older rides gave me a sad smile. “Miguel told us what happened. It's not your fault. They will have to pay their penance with God.”
“Or the Devil,” another said, crossing himself.
Yet another one laughed. “Or Miguel’s wife.”
The older rider grinned. “It’s true. His wife has been hounding him to retire for years.
You did her a favor. Him too. His heart wasn’t in the riding but you know?
It’s not a job you voluntarily retire from a lot.
You go out a cripple or dead, that's it. This way, he can go out with his honor and his pride.”
“And a little money,” someone else joked and then they were off. Back to laughing and speaking in Portuguese and I lost myself in the cadence of it all. I looked over at Davi and stepped closer to him. I pasted a smile on my face. “Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” he said, his eyes tortured. His knuckles were a mess, but I mean, we all had fucked up hands. It was the nature of bull riding.
I smiled genuinely this time. “Yeah, but I asked first.”
His jaw flexed. “I feel guilty. Not for, you know, but for Miguel.” Yeah, I knew, but all those platitudes I just heard went twice for Davi.
“Without you, I’d be dead.”
The cold reality of that whispered statement pulled us both up. He swallowed hard and gave me a small nod. I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
With one last smile, I let Branch and Dylan walk me to the other side of the room, well away from the doors so that I couldn’t even see them unless I craned my neck. “Are you really okay?”
“No, but I’m too stubborn to go home now.”
Dylan laughed, and I noticed that this side of the room was still deathly quiet. It was awkward as hell.
Branch stood up and cleared his throat. “Does anyone have a problem with T.M. still being here? Because if any of you think that what happened yesterday is in any way her fault, I will happily walk you into the middle of that arena and put you in a coma myself.”
Joe Reddert, one of the biggest names in the sport right now, stood up and my heart stopped.
“I think what happened yesterday was fucking disgusting. I have daughters, a wife, a sister. The idea of any piece of shit touching them…” he ground his teeth and I swallowed hard.
“That isn’t what this sport is about. She can get on a bull and ride it for eight seconds.
That qualifies her to be here. You got a problem with it, it isn't just Watson here that you will have issues with, understand?”
I would not cry. I would not.
Someone scoffed. “I hated that piece of shit anyway. When we was in riding school, he stole my brand new rope and said it was his. Fucking asshole.”
That kicked off a general grumbling about Junior, and I made note of the people who didn’t join in.
I ruled out the ones that were just quiet types, like Branch.
But the ones who looked like they were suppressing anger?
Those ones I’d work hard not to be alone with.
I never wanted to be alone and vulnerable again.
I got lost in the monotony of preparation. I couldn’t be distracted on the bull, because that's how you died.
Dylan sat with me, and I appreciated the hell out of him for being here.
He must have been itching to put on his gear and go out and ride.
Instead, he was sitting in his civilian clothes, close enough to my body that I could feel his warmth.
He was like a giant security blanket, and didn’t resent it at all.
“Thank you for being here,” I said softly, and he helped buckle my chaps. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I grinned. “Liar. You’d rather be on top of a bull, riding high.”
He boomed out a laugh and it mended a small piece of my heart. “Okay, maybe one other place, but that's it. I like being here with you Tessa. I like it a lot.”
Well hell. What did I say to that?
“Uh, same?”
Dylan’s laughter was interrupted by Beau strolling up to us, his eyes concerned as if he was trying to judge my mental state just by my face alone.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a low voice, and I gave him a strained smile.
They were going to hover for a little while, but that was okay.
Two days ago, I would have chafed under their constant presence, but right now, I felt like I had my own army and that patched the holes in my own self-confidence.
I didn’t have to be scared when I had Dylan’s hand in mine or Beau watching over me.
Maybe in a week, I'd feel differently. “I’m good, Beau. Ready to ride and go home. Leave this shit behind.”
He nodded and dropped it. That's the other thing I’d always loved about Beau.
He didn’t harp on something. He knew when I needed to talk, and when I needed to process in silence.
Branch never had that; he’d just nag me until I broke, and then he’d conquer whatever little thing had made me mad or sad.
“How’s the thigh?” He grabbed my knee and rotated it around, testing my range of movement.
“It's good. Wouldn’t even know I’d been stomped except for the bruise now.”
He nodded, seemingly happy with my range of motion.
“I think from now on we should strap it just to give it a little extra support. Your ribs too.” Yeah, they were a bit achy from Junior’s boots.
Beau squeezed my knee, then looked over at Branch.
“Take your pants off, asshole, so I can strap your knee.”
I watched Branch slide his jeans off out of the corner of my eye, down his long, tanned legs. What did he do outside to get a tan like that? Naked sunbathe?
His ass in his tight boxers was like all my birthday cakes in one glorious package, and I dragged my face away so I wasn’t ogling him in public. That wouldn’t help my reputation at all.
“Uh, Tessa? You got a bit of drool there,” Dylan whispered and I punched him in the thigh, blushing like a southern belle.
I shushed him and went back to doing my own prep. But I couldn’t help sliding my eyes to where Beau was running tape over Branch’s knees and thighs, and feeling just a bit jealous. I guess I wasn’t broken after all.
I tried not to climb into the chutes feeling like the sport owed me something, but it was hard.
I made eye contact with every single person who stared at my face behind the chutes.
I refused to cower, to drop my eyes like I had something to be ashamed about.
But the bull definitely sensed my turmoil, and it messed around in the chutes like a big baby.
I sighed and looked up at Dylan who was holding my flak vest.
“You got this, Baby Girl,” he shouted over the crashing of the bull against the rails. “You can ride this bull. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself. Now get out of your head and ride this damn bull.”
I grinned, hoping he could see it through my helmet and settled back onto the bull. I rubbed my rope until it was tacky, and quickly got to work. One more deep breath. In and out. I gave them the cowboy nod and the gate burst open.
Time slowed as the crowd went up and down, and I adjusted my seat to fit the spiralling motion of the bull. He was a high kicker, but I had a good seat and as I made sure my arm stayed above my head, I felt free. Completely and utterly free.
Finally, the buzzer went off and it was time to come back to earth, in the most literal way possible. I jumped off, but missed my step and landed on my hands and knees in the dirt. A familiar face grabbed me off the ground and tossed me toward the rails and out of the way of the enraged bull.
The grin on Frankie’s face as he ushered the bull through the gate told me just how much fun he was having. Once the gate slammed closed, I jumped off the rails, and ran over to Frankie. He grinned and slapped my back. “Well done, Querida . Do you hear it?”
I finally heard the sound of the applause over the blood rushing in my ears.
Heard the commentators over the speakers talking about how textbook my ride was, how naturally I sat, and I swear, I almost embarrassed myself.
Instead, I lifted my arm in the air and pointed to the sky. That one was for my parents.
The grin on Frankie’s face was almost as big as mine. “We’ll celebrate later,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Now get the hell out of the arena.”
I jogged out the exit and almost bypassed Caly.
“T.M!” she called after me, and my feet slowed.
Fuck. As much as I didn’t want to shy away from what happened, I didn’t want it broadcast on national television either.
“Don’t worry. We aren’t crossing to you for an interview.
The big guys upstairs have vetoed anything like that for awhile. ”
I blew out a relieved sigh. I pulled my helmet off and watched Calypso’s eyes as she took in the bruises on my face and the ones poking up above my collared shirt.
Helpless rage and just a hint of fear settled in her face.
“That son of a goat fucker,” she growled, making her cameraman chuckle.
“I’m not going to ask if you are okay, but I hope whoever your guardian angel was put that fucker in a coma. ”
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Caly grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. “Girl, if you need anything, you let me know.” She pulled back and sucked in a ragged breath. “You aren’t the only one he’s tried it on.”
I reared back. “Did he…?” Yeah, sometimes a word was so big that it didn’t feel like it could leave your lungs.
She shook her head, and I let out a relieved sigh.
“No, but only because Matty came to find me to do a couple of shots.” She tilted her head at the cameraman, who’s face looked like he’d happily find Junior and put him in a coma if that's what Caly wanted.
He looked at Caly like she was the best thing since beer and ribs.
I shrugged like what happened yesterday wasn’t the second hardest thing I’ve ever been through. “I told them that if he even so much as watched from the nosebleeds, I was going to fuck with their world, so hopefully they ship him off to Antarctica and we can both forget he ever existed.”
Caly frowned. “You aren’t going to press charges?” There was a hint of disapproval in her tone, and I got it, but it still hurt a little.
“So he gets a six month good behavior bond, and I get dragged through a very public court case, only to have my reputation and career in tatters at my feet afterwards?”
Caly shook her head, but she knew I was right. I could see it in the disillusioned look in her eyes. Junior was rich, white, and came from a family with a lot of clout in a lot of different circles. He could murder someone, and he still probably wouldn’t see jail time.
I mumbled my goodbyes, getting the hell out of there before guilt consumed me completely.