39. Walker #2
As I’m signing, one of the ladies starts giggling nervously. “Any chance you’d take your picture with us shirtless?”
I feel Phoenix at my side immediately.
“His clothes stay on,” he grumbles toward the fans.
She doesn’t even hide her look of disappointment. “Okay, well, can we come around there and stand next to him?”
I can tell he’s getting ready to say no, so I whisper his name in warning under my breath. “Phoe. It’s part of the job. You know that.” I leave out the snarky how many people have groped you question, burning on the tip of my tongue.
“Doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it,” he grumbles back.
“Noted. Now will you please take this picture?” I ask.
He cuts his eyes to me, and I have to bite back a laugh. Phoenix is so easy going. I had no idea his jealousy ran so deeply. But he is not a fan of people in my personal space.
Guess that goes both ways.
He grabs the girl’s phone more aggressively than necessary and stalks out in front of the table.
“I think he has a crush on you,” the girl whispers in my ear. She obviously missed the interview.
I’m about to let the comment go because my relationship status doesn’t need to be shoved in everyone’s face—nor does my sexual orientation, even if I am out now—but I change my mind when she slides her hand up my chest for the picture, and the friend with her does the same thing on my other side.
Gently removing their hands from my body as Phoenix glares back and forth between the girls, I spill the beans. “Oh, he definitely has a crush on me,” I laugh, locking eyes with Phoe. “He’s my boyfriend.”
The girl on my right who’s done all the talking thus far— and clearly been drinking—offers her and her friend up in a foursome.
“One…two…three,” Phoenix yells, letting us know he’s snapping the photo before quickly walking back over to us and pulling me out of the girls’ arms, guiding me back to my chair, and yelling, “Next!”
Finally, Kenna pops up with another folding chair and Phoenix takes the seat next to me.
We make it through another thirty people or so before I look up into the faces of Jonas Smith and Jackson White.
Everyone’s been pretty chill so far. A couple older guys let us know they were disappointed with our news and muttered something about our generation going to shit, but they still wanted an autograph from both of us and weren’t terribly derogatory, so it passed without incident.
But now, staring into Jonas’s cold eyes, something tells me the peace is about to be all fucked up. He’s seething as he bends over the table with a finger in Phoenix’s face.
“Was this your plan all along? To fuck my cowboy so you could steal my fucking job?”
Phoenix stands. He’s still about three inches shorter than Jonas, but he doesn’t care.
“First of all, and hear me loud and clear when I say this, Walker was never your cowboy. He’s been mine since the night we shared our first kiss. And second of all, you lost your job all on your own. I didn’t take a damn thing from you.”
Jonas sneers and drops his voice so only the four of us can hear. “You know they say the only thing to come out of Texas are steers and queers. Way to prove them right, DeVille. Should be easy enough to take you down next season though, you little fa?—”
“ Whoa , are you for real right now?” Jackson cuts in, reminding me of his presence .
Jonas looks at Jackson, taken aback. “C’mon, you know it’s not natural, especially in the rodeo… this rodeo.”
“Actually, dudes have been into each other for a fuckin’ millennia. It’s only recently that it became some kind of taboo bullshit,” Jackson argues calmly, taking a sip of his beer.
I guess his ride is over.
Jonas’s eyes widen comically in disbelief. “You talked so much trash to him last season. Why are you on me even though you used gay slurs yourself?”
“Nah, man. There was never a slur. I talk shit to my equals because that’s part of the game.
But I don’t make judgments on who they love.
My little brother’s gay, and if you think I’m gonna let you represent me with those thoughts in your head, you’re dead fucking wrong.
” In one of the weirdest turn of events to ever happen to me, Jackson reaches out and shakes my hand.
“Everyone else on this circuit is a dud, man. I mean honestly, I have no competition with you out of the ring. It’s kind of boring.
I’m looking forward to having you back. Although this,” he points between me and Phoenix, “is gonna make my life absolute hell.” Then he grins wide. “I can’t fucking wait,” he adds.
I’m shocked into silence, but thankfully, Phoenix still has his voice as he bumps his fist against Jackson’s. “Thanks, man. You’re a helluva rider yourself. We’ve got our work cut out for us getting back on par with you.”
My eyes swing to Jonas who looks a little crazy at the moment. It only gets worse when Jackson says, “Yeah, well, looks like we’ll both start next season behind since I gotta find another coach…again.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jonas barks.
“Look man, you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel, and these are two of the best riders the sport has ever produced.
If you can’t respect them for their riding abilities because you’re too hung up on the fact that they’re fuckin’, then you’re no good to me.
You obviously think gay men are less qualified to ride and you’ll underestimate anybody who comes out after him, and that puts me at risk.
Not to mention, what am I supposed to do when Tristan brings his boyfriend around in the off-season?
I’d rather never ride again than hear you spew a single derogatory word in my brother’s direction.
So, kindly…fuck off. I’ll handle the championship on my own. ”
Jonas’s gaze bounces between the three of us, and I can’t help adding fuel to the fire.
“Oh, and my dad will probably want his truck and camper back.”
Shit.
My dad.
I still haven’t told my parents, and they will undoubtedly be watching the media from the rodeo.
I give Jackson another fist bump. “Looking forward to being back. Great ride today. If you’ll excuse me, I have a call I need to make.”
Phoenix arches a brow at me.
“My parents,” I say by way of explanation.
He nods as I go in search of a quiet corner, finding what I need when Mack allows me to use the LXR camper.
With shaking hands, I dial my dad’s number. I don’t call often, preferring to text since neither he nor I are big conversationalists, so I’m not surprised he answered right away, probably thinking something’s wrong.
“Walker, hi, son.”
“Hey, Dad. Um, you got a minute?”
Why is it no matter how old we get, talking to our parents always makes us feel like toddler versions of ourselves?
“Of course. Is everything okay?” The concern in his voice makes my legs give out and I sit down despite having a tendency to pace when having stressful conversations.
“Yeah. Well, sort of. I mean, yes, but?—”
“Walker, just spit it out, son.”
So, I do. I verbally vomit all over this conversation.
“Okay, so, I’m gay, and I’m not just living with Phoenix Harding, I’m dating him. And before you say anything, LXR knows. They just ran a thing on social media, so everyone else is about to know too,” I blurt.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“Uh, Dad?” Was I wrong about him and Mom? Do they care more than I thought they would? “You there?”
“Yeah, Walk, I’m here.” He sighs into the phone. “You couldn’t have prefaced this with maybe you should sit down? ” he asks. I relax when I hear the teasing tone in his voice, but I stay quiet, and he continues, “How long?”
“A long time,” I answer, knowing he means how long have I known that I’m gay.
“Phoenix Harding, huh?” he says, and I almost chuckle. This sounds a lot more like our normal conversations.
“Um, yeah. He’s actually really great.”
“I reckon he’s a good choice. At least he knows what your life looks like and the dangers of the sport. You know your mom’s going to want to meet him.”
And that’s that.
I’m out to my dad and his biggest concern is that my mom is going to want to meet my boyfriend.
“Maybe you guys can come to the season opener in Kentucky?” I suggest.
“I take it this means you aren’t coming back home?” There’s no guilt trip in his voice, he’s just making sure he knows the plan.
I can’t help my smile as a warm feeling spreads throughout my body. “I am home, Dad.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is,” I confirm. “So, Kentucky?”
“Yeah, son. We’ll be there.”
He gives the phone to my mom after that, and I repeat the process to another loving parent.
Ultimately, I decide not to tell them about Colton just yet.
I feel more comfortable telling Colton he’s my kid before anyone else.
Once he’s made aware and has gotten a little more used to the idea, I’ll tell my folks…
because nothing—and I do mean nothing —will keep my mother from getting on a plane, finding Alexis, and smothering her and Colton with affection until Christmas.
One piece of news at a time.