Chapter 34 – Jensen
I wrap the rope tighter around my hand, feeling the rough bite of the fibers through my riding glove. It stings just a little through the calluses that I've earned, but I’ve always liked this kind of pain.
When I flex my right hand, the chipped remnants of red nail polish catch my eye, the last stubborn flecks of the color June painted on me weeks ago.
It doesn’t freak me out anymore to see it fading.
Doesn’t send me spiraling thinking it's the last taste that I'll get of Catalina.
Because the polish can fade, wear off, and disappear completely. But now I know that Catalina won't.
I believe she’ll be here tonight. I believe she’ll watch me ride. I believe that afterward, when it’s quiet and we're alone and there’s no crowd screaming in our ears, she’ll finally tell me what I’ve been holding my breath for.
I inhale deeply, then let it out slow and steady.
Eight seconds. That’s it. One last ride to finish what I began years ago.
Truth is, I could walk away right now and be fine, but I owe it to my guys to finish the series.
To Craig. To Dawson. To Heath. To every person who’s had my back for over a decade.
To the fans who showed up tonight thinking they might be watching the end of something.
They are. It’s the end of an era for me. They just don't realize it yet.
My heart is beating wildly in my chest, like it’s already trying to outrun me. I glance toward the gate and catch June snapping photos; lens trained on me like she always does before one of us rides out into the ring to risk our lives.
I give her my best smolder—half cocky, half promise. She says those perform the best on our social media page. I wouldn't know. She checks the screen, grins, and throws me a thumbs-up.
"Lookin' good out there, Jensen!"
I catch Raf staring behind me. His eyes never leave her, tracking the sway of her hips in those tight jeans as she moves.
I feel bad for my buddy, because he looks lost and a little desperate to be seen by her.
I know that ache. Wanting someone so badly you don’t think they’ll ever really notice you.
I hope he works up the nerve before it eats him alive.
Then the announcer shouts my name and the crowd explodes. Eight seconds. That’s all I need. That’s all it takes to change everything.
I salute my guys as they bang against the gate, getting the bull good and pissed for me, and catch Dawson’s eye—give him a nod that says we’re good.
He nods back. We are. I've apologized to him about a dozen times since I landed in San Diego for my outburst. I know it wasn't his fault what happened with Catalina's ex, and he's a good man.
All of them are. He didn't know their history either.
He was just as pissed as I was when I explained.
The gate flies open and suddenly I’m airborne, set on the last ride of my life.
Eight seconds doesn’t sound like much, but it stretches when you’re fighting a thousand pounds of muscle and fury beneath you.
The bull kicks hard, twists, snaps side to side.
He’s mean. He’s fast. He wants me gone, but I'm not dropping that easily on my last ride.
I didn't come this far in my career to go out weak.
Every muscle burns. My teeth grit. My bad shoulder screams. And then—just like that—the horn goes off and I’m launched, flung sideways, slamming into the dirt in a rough, breath-stealing fall.
“Ah, fuck me,” I grunt as the safety crew rushes in, pulling the bull’s attention just in time to keep him from crushing my left leg.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the lights while they clear him out. I take a few beats to look at the sky, to think about how this is it for me.
And instead of crying or feeling sad for myself, I start laughing.
Then I push myself up, dust off, and stand. My shoulder hurts, but at least I know I've got a kickass doctor to help me rehab it since I’m done for good.
The roar of the crowd crashes over me. It's so loud I can’t even hear the announcer calling scores.
I don’t care anyway. I never have, but I care even less now.
There will be no listening to stats back later tonight.
No overthinking my next ride while white noise races in my ears.
This was the last eight seconds I’ll ever ride.
My eyes sweep the stands, searching for her. She wasn’t in the makeshift office when I warmed up. None of the guys have seen her. I told myself her flight must’ve landed late by now, but I hoped she'd have been here to see me perform.
Finally, I notice her. Hanging off the gate. Big smile. Beaming. The biggest, most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen looking right at me and nobody else.
My boots are moving before my brain catches up.
I don’t hesitate. Don’t slow. I run for her like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, scale the fence, and look down, giving her the choice to come to me first. She takes it.
She surges into me, arms tight around my torso, pulling me into the fiercest hug I’ve ever felt.
One she initiates. One she doesn’t hold back.
My hand comes up, brushing her cheek, my eyes searching hers. Her lashes are wet. Tears clinging there. I hate seeing her cry, but a small, selfish part of me needed to see that she's been feeling the ache too.
Relief courses through me when I murmur, “Pulse.” Then I drop my mouth to hers in a soft, claiming kiss. “You happy to see me?”
She breathes against my mouth, fingers tangled in my hair. “You have no idea.”
I chuckle, forehead resting against hers. “I think I do.”
She pulls back, eyes bright now. “You brought those flowers for Olivia. You brought Catalinas. You talked to her before her surgery. That was—” She swallows, and she doesn't have to say it. I can tell they landed the way that I’d hoped they would.
To support the little girl, but most of all, to show my support to Catalina.
That's why I flew in early to make a stop in San Jose first.
I nod. “I did. Wanted her to know she was in good hands. I knew she probably didn’t need the reassurance, but I figured it might help her seeing the scar you left on me.” I grin. “Made sure she knew hers would heal even better.”
She bites down on her lip. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Thank you,” I echo, meaning it in a way that goes deeper than words. “How’d it go?”
“Perfectly. I was able to fix it. She’s going to be fine.”
I kiss her lips. “I knew it would be.”
Her gaze softens. “I… I was so upset when I saw you talking to another doctor about your shoulder. Sometimes, I get tunnel vision when I feel like I'm being betrayed, and I don't stop to listen fully and process.”
I kiss her forehead, lingering there. “I know you were hurt. And you were right; I should have never let him take a look. And if I’d known he was your ex, I would’ve knocked him out.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “You found out?”
“He doesn’t seem like your type.” I don’t bother hiding the edge of jealousy in my voice.
Her fingers tighten around my neck. “He's not. What do you think is my type?”
I answer by kissing her deeply, sliding my tongue inside without caring who’s watching. Not the arena. Not the stands. Not the cameras snapping photos or the people calling my name for an autograph and a piece of me.
Us kissing will be all over the news in a matter of minutes. I feel relief knowing the world will finally know that she’s mine. All I care about is what's right here in my arms.
“I’m your type,” I murmur against her mouth. “And we both know it. You always had a thing for the big cowboy you couldn't stop looking at.”
I lift her easily, my fingers squeezing her ass possessively. She wraps her legs around me tighter until she’s clinging to me.
June steps into our path with her camera pointed. “Smile!”
We do. Cheek to cheek. Her tucked into my arms. My hand very much fisting her ass through those tight burgundy pants I plan on stripping off her in a matter of seconds.
“Aww,” June coos, looking at the photo, clutching her chest. “Adorable. Have fun, you two!”
And then I’m gone—my legs eating up the distance, carrying us away from the noise, the crowd, the world. I want her all to myself now.
The moment we get inside her office, I’m dropping her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. It turns frantic fast. She unbuttons my flannel, dragging it off my shoulders, nails scraping over my back and down my ass. The sensation shoots straight to my cock, thick and aching in my jeans.
“Take these off,” I tell her roughly.
She lifts her hips, giving me access. I tug her pants and underwear down together, sucking in a breath at the sight of her bare pussy for the first time in weeks.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I've missed you.”
I drop to my knees, pull her hips to the edge of the desk, and drag a slow, savoring lick across her pussy.
“Take off your shirt while I taste you.”
She does, lifting it over her head. Navy silk. A delicate bra with a diamond charm at the center. I reach up and swat it lightly.
“Is this new?”
She bites her lip and nods. “For you. I figured it was time to refresh my lingerie.”
Something that only I get to see. Something new for my eyes only. Another thing I'll collect in my memory.
I smile against her, drag my tongue over her clit again, then shove two fingers deep inside her, curling them just right and watching the way they disappear inside her warm, wet walls.
“I like that you were thinking of me when you bought that,” I say.
“Jensen,” she breathes, fingers twisting in my hair then nails scraping lightly against my scalp.
“I’m sorry for punishing you for so long.
I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. Davis manipulated the situation…
and manipulated me. I knew that all along, I think I just let my emotions over the way he hurt me in the past get the better of me.
There was stuff I hadn't dealt with yet, and you were the one I took it out on.”
I lift my head and meet her eyes.
She swallows. “I didn’t tell you who Davis was because I was ashamed that he still had the power to hurt me. I want to start over. Is that even possible? Can we… I don’t know. Date?”
I chuckle softly. “That’s more than possible. That’s what I want too. But I think we’re past the casual stage, don’t you?”
I cup her waist, pull her closer, and kiss her mouth gently this time. She laughs, fingers threading through my hair kissing me back.
“I agree, but there’s something else,” she says. “I won’t be working any more series. I’m quitting the rodeo.”
“I figured.”
“Are you disappointed?” Her voice wobbles a little.
“We can still date. I just… I’m trying to figure out my next move.
I miss surgery, but I liked gen-med in Whitewood Creek.
I thought maybe I’d try something new. Work somewhere that gets to blend a little of everything while staying closer to my roots.
I never got to travel, and I’ve enjoyed the little that we've done with the rodeo.”
I kiss her again, slower now. This is what she needs—room to explore without losing her identity.
Something that no one ever gave her the opportunity to do.
She always felt like she had to be perfect.
The sister who had it figured out and stuck to one thing, one city, one man.
Now she's realizing she doesn't have to do that.
That she can forge her own path while still doing something she loves.
“I’m not disappointed,” I say. “Because I’m done too.”
She pauses. “What?”
“Done riding,” I say calmly. “That was my last ride.”
Her eyes search mine, worry there. “Please tell me it’s not because of me. I never want to be the reason you quit.”
I kiss her softly. “I found something I love more. I think I was always looking for a reason to quit and never had a good enough one.”
"Your heart surgery wasn't enough?"
I shake my head. "No. But you are." I lean in. “I’m heading back to Tennessee to spend some time with my grandma. You want to come with me before we figure out where to go next? I’ll let ya pick.”
Her eyes widen. Then she smiles. “Yeah. Yeah. Oh God—is that crazy? Tennessee?”
I kiss her again. “Tennessee’s a bit bigger than Whitewood Creek, but we can do it for as long as you want.
Figure out what you like while we play cards and sip sweet tea with grandma when you're not out saving the world. And if someday you want to be closer to your sisters, we’ll move to Whitewood Creek. ”
Her eyes fill with emotion. “You’d do that?”
“I’d go anywhere with you,” I say. “Do anything. I just want to be with you, Kitty.”
She pulls me back into her, our kiss heating again, urgency building until she stops us, her face more serious.
“Jensen. I love you.”
I smile. “I love you too, Pulse.”
She smiles at me. “Then make love to me, Jensen.”
I unzip my pants, stroke myself once, then drag my cock through her slick heat before sinking inside her. It feels like coming home. I take my time in that office, making love to her just like she asked, whispering everything I’ve been holding back on saying: plans, dreams, Tennessee and beyond.
She tells me she wants it all with me. A new city. A new job. A new us. She even says she wants a family someday. A little baby that looks like her and talks like me.
And when she comes apart beneath me, my name on her lips, I know—no eight-second thrill could ever compare to the eighty years that I plan on spending with her.