47. Cole
COLE
The locker room beneath the stands smells like leather, dirt, sweat, and the sharp bite of liniment. Familiar smells. Normally it’s comforting—like home—but tonight, nothing feels right.
I sit on a folding chair with my elbows on my knees, staring at my phone for what has to be the hundredth time, disappointment flaring inside of me to see nothing from Clara.
She said she and the kids would be here.
She said they were planning on leaving the house around four to get here with plenty of time.
She seemed happy and excited. And while I know the last week has had its downs, we’ve been in a pretty good place the last few days. So where the hell is she?
“Here you go, brother.”
I look up to see Brady walk through the doorway, handing me a small tub of rosin.
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking it.
“Everythin’ okay?”
I snap my head up, finding an uncharacteristic flash of concern in Brady’s gaze. He’s not normally the kind of guy to take anything too serious, so it catches me off guard and I find myself opening up to him.
“Clara’s not here.”
Brady looks at his watch. “Want me to go check to see if she’s out there gettin’ food with the others?”
I shake my head. “Nah, she’d come find me first. Or at least answer my damn calls.” I scoff, shaking my head at myself.
Brady frowns.
“I’ll give her another call,” I say with a casual shrug, trying not to give away how affected I am. “I’m sure she just got caught up with the kids or somethin’.”
“You need anythin’?”
Shaking my head, I meet his eyes. “I just need… a minute.”
Thankfully he understands what I’m asking and, slapping me on my shoulder, he offers a tight smile. “Give ’em hell, my guy.”
I watch him walk out of the room, silence surrounding me yet again. With another huffed breath, I call Clara again, but when it doesn’t ring and goes to her recorded voice message like it has the last six times I’ve tried calling her, I squeeze my phone so hard in my fist, I hear the device crack.
“Hi, it’s me. Leave a message.”
“Hey baby,” I say quietly, my gaze flitting about. “It’s me. Again. I’m… I’m really worried. Can you call me as soon as you get this?”
I stare down at the screen, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I rack my brain. She promised she’d be here. Looked me dead in my eyes and promised.
Maybe she did get held up with the kids. Maybe traffic heading into Sunshine is backed up because of the rodeo—people from all over the panhandle flock to this event, held annually to help ranching families doing it tough. Maybe her car broke down. Maybe—
Maybe she finally came to the realization that she can’t do this. Can’t support me like she thought she could. Can’t sit up there in the stands and watch me gamble with my brain, my life. Can’t smile and pretend this isn’t killing me. Can’t love a man determined to destroy himself.
I swallow. The thought hitting harder than any bull ever has.
A month ago, I would’ve laughed at myself for caring this much. Now, the possibility of losing the only woman I’ve ever loved scares me more than any ride ever could.
“You’re up in five, Cole,” one of the event staff says from the doorway.
I nod and he leaves.
Five minutes.
Standing, I pull on my vest, the familiar weight settling across my ribs.
Normally it centers me, but not tonight.
My phone stays stubbornly silent and I imagine Clara’s face.
The way she looked at me when I told her everything.
The concussions. The blackouts. The memory lapses.
The risk. The inevitable future waiting for me if I keep pretending like I’m invincible.
She cried. But not because she was angry, because she was scared.
For me. Nobody has ever been scared for me before.
My chest tightens as I walk out and follow the gated walkway toward the chute.
The noise grows louder with every step, the arena opening up around me, the stadium lights almost blinding.
Dirt. Steel. Thousands of faces. The same place I’ve always felt most alive.
But tonight it feels strangely distant. Lonely.
I glance toward the stands, searching, looking for a flash of soft, honey-blonde hair.
Looking for those blue eyes, the color of a West Texas sky.
Looking for proof she didn’t give up on me.
Maybe they got here late and had to find their seats.
Maybe they got caught up at the concession stand because sweet Billie couldn’t wait for a snow cone.
Maybe they weren’t able to get past security to see me. Maybe—
My heart sinks because deep down, I know they’re not here.
Climbing up into the chute, I lower myself onto the bull. Rough Rider. He shifts violently beneath me. He’s pissed. A huge motherfucker. Strong. Mean. Perfect.
I wrap the rope around my hand, the muscles in my forearm tightening. Years of repetition know just the right hold. Years of instinct. Hell, I could do this with my eyes closed.
My thoughts keep drifting.
Where’s my girl?
Why hasn’t she called me at least to let me know that she’s okay.
Did she finally realize I’m not worth this?
The chute boss says something. I don’t hear him through my thoughts.
The crowd noise swells and the bull doesn’t like it, slamming into the side of the chute and snarling angrily. The metal rattles and my pulse spikes.
I need to focus, but my mind won’t listen.
All I can see is Clara walking away. All I can hear is her voice telling me to stop, to give it up, to quit, to become nothing. A nobody. All I can remember is the way her face fell when I told her that without this, I’ve got nothing.
The gate swings open and suddenly me and Rough Rider are exploding into the arena.
The bull launches forward and everything in me jolts. Normally, this is where the world slows down. Normally, this is where it all starts to make sense, where it all falls into motion. Tonight it doesn’t. My timing is late. A fraction of a second. But that’s all it takes.
The bull snaps left. Hard. I overcorrect. My free arm flails and I hear a collective gasp echo around the stadium. A horrible sound because immediately I know. I’m done.