Chapter 2
JUNE
Tanner throws the first punch, wild, sloppy, aimed more at Seth’s pride than at his face. Seth sidesteps, not graceful, not clean, but fast enough that Tanner swings through empty air.
Seth surges forward and slams Tanner back against the brick wall beside the closed storefront, hard enough to rattle the metal gate over the window. Tanner grunts, but he grins.
“Yeah,” Tanner spits. “There you go. Show me what you got.” But he swings first again—dirty and fast—catching Seth across the cheek. Seth staggers a half step, boots scraping, and for a heartbeat, he just stands there, tasting it, eyes brightening like someone flipped a switch.
Seth’s fist connects with Tanner’s jaw even faster.
Once.
Tanner’s head snaps sideways, shoulder thudding into brick. He blinks, then laughs like it’s the best thing that’s happened to him in weeks.
“Hit me again,” Tanner taunts. “C’mon, rodeo boy. Let her watch.”
Seth’s face is tight, eyes bright and wild. He swings again, messier this time, anger bleeding into the hit. Tanner stumbles forward, catches Seth in the ribs with a heavy punch that makes Seth grunt and fold for half a second.
They collide.
No more wall. No more space.
They’re grabbing shirts, shoving shoulders, boots scraping on concrete. Tanner tries to bulldoze Seth into the street, and Seth, half drunk and furious, fights like a man who’s been in too many brawls for his own good.
“Stop!” I scramble to my feet, palms burning, voice cracking. “Seth—don’t! Tanner, you psycho!”
Tanner swings again, catching Seth across the cheek. He spits to the side, wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and the glare he gives Tanner is pure promise.
Then Seth drives into him, tackling him low.
They hit the pavement hard, rolling right there on the sidewalk in front of the dark shopfront, grunting and swearing as elbows and fists and knees land wherever they can. Tanner claws for Seth’s collar like he wants to choke him, like he’s not satisfied unless he’s hurting someone.
“You think you can touch what’s mine?” Tanner snarls, breath ragged. “That you can take her from me?”
“She’s not—” Seth grits out, and he headbutts Tanner.
The crack is sickening.
Tanner jerks back with a curse. Seth twists, hooks a leg, flips them with rough force, and suddenly Tanner is pinned beneath him on the concrete, Seth’s forearm across his chest, fist drawn back.
For a drunk man, he also looks like he might not stop.
Tanner coughs a laugh, eyes glassy and vicious. “Do it,” he taunts. “Bet she likes you better when you’re violent.”
My stomach turns.
“Seth!” I shout, stepping closer, limping slightly. “Look at me. Seth!”
His head jerks, just a fraction. His eyes flick to my scraped hands, the way I’m standing wrong.
Something shifts. Not soft. Not gentle.
Focused.
His fist loosens a little. His breathing stays heavy, chest heaving, but his gaze drops back to Tanner. “You put your hands on her again,” Seth warns, voice low and rough with restraint, “and I’ll break something you can’t fix with a wrench.”
Tanner spits blood onto the sidewalk and grins like it’s a prize. “Look at you, ridin’ in like some damn hero,” he slurs, eyes mean and glossy. “She ain’t yours, rodeo boy. She don’t want you. Hell, she—”
Seth hits him.
It’s one hard, ugly punch right to the mouth.
The sound snaps through the quiet street like a firecracker.
Tanner grunts and goes slack for a second, head turning with the impact, jaw working like it doesn’t know what to do anymore.
I flinch because it’s brutal… and then my stomach twists with a guilty little jolt of satisfaction, because Tanner finally shut up.
Seth stays over him for a beat, breathing hard, still a touch unsteady from the booze, eyes bright and wild like he’s fighting the part of himself that wants to keep going.
Then he shoves off of him and stands, swaying slightly.
He looks down at Tanner like he’s something he scraped off his boot, and he delivers a sharp kick to Tanner’s ribs—enough to make the point without turning it into a trip to the hospital.
Tanner curls in with a pathetic wheeze, hands clutching his side, and I have to press my lips together to keep from grinning.
“Learn some fucking manners,” Seth blurts out, brushing off his jeans like Tanner was a mild inconvenience. His voice has that slow cowboy bite to it, even now. “ ’Specially around women. You hear me, or you need me to spell it out?”
Then he turns to me, and it’s like a switch flips.
The cold violence drops away, and what’s left is plain concern, the kind that flutters in my chest. He’s at my side in two strides, one hand gentle on my elbow, the other hovering at my back like he’s ready to catch me.
“You all right, darlin’?” he asks, eyes searching mine. “You hurt? Let me see them hands.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because my palms sting and my hip throbs, but the bigger problem is that a rodeo star I barely know just stood up for me like it was the easiest decision in the world. I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “We need to go. Right now.”
Seth glances past me, just once, toward Tanner trying to drag breath through his own ego. His jaw tightens, then he nods and shifts his body so he’s between me and the mess, guiding me down the sidewalk like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “All right,” he murmurs.
I unlock the car with shaking hands and yank open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Seth folds himself into my little sedan, squished in, his head brushing the roof, but he manages. I slam the door and run around to the driver’s side, my heart pounding. One last glance at Tanner, and I grin as he groans in pain. Then I hop inside.
The engine catches on the first turn. Thank God. Thank hell.
I yank away from the curb like the devil himself is reaching for my bumper, tires squealing as the truck lurches forward. My hands are still shaking on the wheel.
That fight was a really, really bad idea.
I blow out a breath that comes out half laugh, half sob. “Okay. I shouldn’t say this because it makes me a terrible person and I’m supposed to be mature now, but… thank hell you punched that asshole.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he says.
“I’m serious,” I keep going, because my mouth is running faster than my brain can catch it.
Adrenaline does that to me, turns me into a talking sprinkler.
“I mean, I’m not thankful that you got into a fight in the middle of the main street at two in the morning, because that is…
criminal behavior, but he deserved it so much. ” I glance at Seth.
His jaw tightens, and his gaze flicks to my scraped hands, then back out the windshield, and for a second, he looks sober enough to scare me.
“And now,” I add quickly, because the fear is catching up, “now it’s really bad. Because Tanner is… he’s Deputy Tanner. Sheriff’s department. And he is absolutely going to make this a problem.”
Seth blinks slowly. “Deputy?”
“Yes.” I nod too hard, because panic needs somewhere to go, and apparently it’s going into my neck.
“Like, badge. Gun. The authority to ruin everyone’s week.
He’s gonna wake up tomorrow and decide that he didn’t lose a fight but got ‘assaulted.’ And you’re gonna be the villain, and he’s gonna be the poor wounded public servant. ”
Seth frowns like he’s trying to hold the thought in his head and it keeps sliding off. “He didn’t feel like public service.”
“No,” I snap. “He felt like a restraining order with legs.”
I swallow, eyes flicking back to the mirror even though he’s already gone from view.
“But… you’ll be fine,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as him.
“You’re out of town in, what, a few weeks?
The circuit packs up and disappears like a traveling circus.
And your dad’s got friends. And sponsors.
And the town council practically rolls out the red carpet for anything that brings money in, so they’ll protect you because—” I take a breath, words tumbling. But for me…
Seth hums, distracted.
I glance over and realize he’s not listening. Not really. He’s digging through my center console with the determination of a raccoon breaking into a cooler. Then he pulls out my stash of Oreos like he just found gold.
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Those are my emergency cookies.”
“Mm.” He pops one open with his thumb, then shoves half into his mouth. Crumbs scatter onto his jeans. He doesn’t care. “Smart woman.”
I stare at him, half horrified, half relieved that he’s acting normal. “I am literally spiraling, and you’re looting my car.”
“Want one?”
“No.”
He eats another anyway. “More for me.”
I hate that my mouth twitches into a smile.
The road hums under the tires, the town falling away behind us until the streetlights thin out and the dark starts to feel wider.
My heartbeat finally eases down from a sprint to something closer to a speed walk, but my hands are still tight on the wheel, knuckles pale, palms stinging every time I shift my grip.
Beside me, Seth goes quiet. I glance over and find him with his forehead pressed against the passenger window, mouth slightly open. He’s asleep so suddenly it’s almost impressive. One hand is still curled around the Oreo, and there are crumbs scattered down his shirt and into his lap.
I stare at him for a long beat, equal parts annoyed and, against my will, fond.
“You are so weird,” I mutter, like it’s an insult. It doesn’t land like one.
He just exhales softly, a little puff of breath that fogs the glass near his temple.