Chapter 1 #2
As a former pro barrel racer, Ava’s been running the cloverleaf since she was a kid.
It’s a rodeo sport where a rider on horseback runs a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels as quickly as possible.
When Ava became head of the Wallace Ranch’s barrel racing training program last fall, Billie Wallace signed up for some lessons.
I’m not sure why Billie wants to race. She’s still young—twenty-four—but most barrel racers start when they’re really young, like Ava.
Here we are, though, about to watch Billie run her first official race at the Hart County Rodeo.
“Billie’s a newbie, yeah,” Ava says. “But every spare second she’s had, she’s been in the arena working her butt off. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone more dedicated. She loves it.”
Don’t doubt that one bit. Billie’s been hell on wheels for as long as I can remember. Of course she’d love a sport where she gets to ride like the devil.
And I remember plenty, considering her older brother Colt is my best friend outside of my brothers.
“Testament to your coaching skills.” I nudge Ava back. “Sawyer told me y’all recruited some promising gals to join the program.”
Ava turns her head to glance at Sally, who’s tapping her tallboy can of local beer against Wyatt’s before taking a long, thirsty sip in the row in front of ours. “Helps that we have the best of the best working at the Wallaces’. Sally really brought our program to a whole new level.”
Sally is a veterinary surgeon who trained at one of the top programs in the country. I think she surprised us all when, over the holidays last year, she passed up a big fancy job to stay in Hartsville and help the Wallaces build their horse breeding and racing programs.
Wyatt puts a hand on Sally’s thigh, the thin gold band on his left hand winking in the arena lights.
Am I surprised my wildest brother settled down and got married? Not one bit. As a matter of fact, Sally and Wy’s engagement was long overdue. They’ve been in love with each other for, well, ever.
Theirs has been a very happy ending. Everyone’s has.
I tell myself I’m happy enough too. Sometimes I think I got all the happiness I needed when I was little and lived on Mom’s hip. I got no shame in admitting I was a mama’s boy. In fact, I’m proud of the bond Mom and I shared.
I miss her. A lot. But Duke and I have a special bond too as identical twins. I try to remind myself of that fact when I’m feeling down. Lonely.
Thing is, I’m not alone. My life is full of people who love me and who I love right back. Life is good.
“Sometimes I wonder how we all got so lucky to get a second act as solid as this one.” I say, wiping my hand on my jeans. We recently joined forces with Mollie, combining her family’s ranch with ours to create Lucky River Ranch. It’s made us very busy—and very wealthy—ranchers.
Ava chuckles. “The universe isn’t stingy, Ryder. And karma is real. We’re living right.”
“Maybe. Yeah.”
I feel her looking at me. “You know it’s your turn anytime you want it to be, yeah?”
My hand tightens into a fist. “My turn for what?”
But before she can reply, a shout interrupts us.
“Aw, y’all really beat us here? If that don’t make me feel like the world’s worst brother…”
Looking over my shoulder, I smile when I see Colt Wallace moving down the arena steps, the entire Wallace clan, save Billie, of course, hot on his heels.
There’s her five brothers—Colt, along with Beck, Nash, Mack, and Tate—all dressed up in their cowboy finest. I bite back a laugh when I see that Nash is even wearing a massive silver belt buckle that matches his bolo.
He’s definitely looking for some action tonight. Glad I’m not the only one.
Standing, I reach across the row behind us to shake Colt’s hand. “These cowgirls refused to be tamed.” I nod at Ella and June, who are now busy trying to toss pieces of popcorn into each other’s mouths. “They were chomping at the bit to get to their first rodeo.”
“It’s not my first rodeo, Uncle Ry!” Ella rolls her eyes. “It’s like my one hundred thousand billionth rodeo, okay?”
“Mine too!” Junie squeals. “My mommy used to be in the rodeo.”
“Your mama is just the coolest, isn’t she?” Sawyer reaches across to thumb away a stray bit of popcorn from the corner of Junie’s mouth. “We’ve got lots of talent in our family.”
Ava bites her lip. “You’re making me blush, cowboy.”
“You’re making us all blush, and that’s a beautiful thing.
” Mrs. Wallace, the matriarch of their family, smiles down at us as she takes a seat on the row behind ours.
She’s moving slow on account of the surgery she recently had.
“Thank y’all for coming, truly. Billie is blessed to have such wonderful friends. ”
Dean, Colt’s six-year-old son, comes over to give me a high five. “What’s up, Uncle Ry?”
Not gonna lie, out of all the literal and proverbial hats I wear—brother, rancher, businessman, cowboy, (sometimes) degenerate—“uncle” is by far my favorite.
“You learn to read yet or what?” I ask. “You been goin’ to kindergarten every day, right?”
Dean grins. “I have perfect attendance so far. And I was one of the first ones to read a sentence this week. Ms. Loo was so proud she gave me a sticker!”
“A sticker! That’s awesome. Proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me too.” His grin is shy, but I know he really is proud of himself.
Colt’s smile touches his eyes. Guy’s been through hell and back over the past couple years, but he’s doing a damn fine job of raising his son. He has every reason to smile today.
Bull riding is up first. Then we watch several racers compete before Billie’s name is announced over the loudspeaker. Ella and Junie squeal. Ava throws up her arms.
A buzz of excitement darts up my spine when I see a brunette in a white cowboy hat dart into sight.
Smiling, I resist the urge to clap my hands and shout, Get it, girl. Watching these races always gets me psyched up, and seeing someone I know out there—even if it is the woman who lays it on a little too thick with me sometimes—has me feeling doubly excited.
Billie dashes through the arena, her dark hair flying, pretty face split into a smile.
She’s going so fast I catch the glint of tears trailing horizontally across her temples.
Her body moves rhythmically, expertly, as she guides her horse around the first barrel.
I’m transfixed by the easy roll of her hips in the saddle.
She lets out a holler of utter delight, drawing cheers of approval from the crowd, because of course she does.
I’m Billie fucking Wallace, I imagine her saying. And I’m about to knock your goddamn socks off.
She’s fully immersed in the excitement of the moment.
Fully, completely, vibrantly alive. No holding back.
My stomach bottoms out like I’m on a roller coaster. Billie looks fierce and wild and so fucking joyful out there it…shit, it kinda hurts to watch her.
Literally. My chest is squeezing so hard I feel like I’m having a heart attack.
That, my pulse shouts. I need that.
What about that, though, is making me feel like I can’t breathe? Maybe I just haven’t seen Billie let totally loose like this in a while. A long while. Really, since she started working with her daddy in the Wallace Ranch offices years ago.
It’s like she’s in her natural state running that cloverleaf. Uninhibited. Zero fucks given.
She’s plugged in. Connected to some higher force. Or maybe just to her true self, unafraid of what might happen next.
For a split second, my torso fills with that same wide-open feeling. I can breathe again. It feels nice to set down the need to be in control and just…feel. Excitement. Anticipation. Hope.
Makes me realize how numb I’ve felt in comparison all day. All week.
All the time.
“Go, Billie, go!” Ava leaps to her feet. Sticking her fingers into her mouth, she lets out a shockingly loud whistle. “That’s right, sister, you make that barrel your—”
“Friend!” Sawyer finishes for her, grinning.
Junie and Ella are on their feet now, so I hop up too. I pat my right front pocket, making sure the pocketknife is still there.
All good.
Mom gave Dad this pocketknife as a wedding gift. Like me, he carried it every damn day. He saved the lives of more cattle and horses and kids with this thing than I could count. Figure it’s good luck to keep it close.
What would he think if he could see my brothers and me now? Bet he’d love being at the rodeo with his sons, their better halves, and all these beautiful babies.
Mom would lose her mind over how much Ella looks like Sawyer. And she’d eat up Cash’s chunky baby with a spoon.
Emotion clogs my windpipe. See? This is what happens when I let myself feel shit. Everyone is hooting and hollering and having a grand old time celebrating a friend’s achievement, and here I am, making a goddamn fool of myself.
Get. It. The fuck together.
Blinking, I try to bottle up all those feelings inside my ribcage and swallow away the moon lodged in my throat.
Gotta keep the focus on Billie.
Billie, who looks fucking good in a pair of jeans and the tightest white button-up I think I’ve ever seen. A big old silver-and-turquoise belt buckle completes the ensemble.
Another sensation moves through me, this one a hot heaviness that settles between my legs.
Yep, can’t feel that either.
Even if her perfect tits strain against that shirt in the sexiest way imaginable.
Even if I got a thing for cowgirls.
Ordinarily I’d keep trying to ignore all this goddamn excitement. Billie is my best friend’s sister for Christ’s sake. I gotta show some decorum. I have years of practice keeping steady, staying in control. Numbing shit so I don’t drown.
But all of a sudden, that feels wrong.
It’s impossible.
So instead, I let myself be overwhelmed by the thrill of being here, now, and I holler like an idiot as Billie rounds the second barrel. Just as I imagined her hollering as she bolted through the gate to start her race.
“Ava. Jesus. She’s a rock star,” I marvel over the clamor that fills the arena. “You’d best get ready to win some money, honey, cause y’all got something special here.”
Ava is smiling from ear to ear, pride written all over her features. “Don’t jinx us!”
Too late.
Just as Billie is rounding the third barrel, she guides her horse a smidge too close to the inside.
As they straighten out to take it all the way home, the horse stumbles, losing her footing in the dirt.
Billie does her darndest to stay in the saddle, but the centripetal force of their movements pulls her right off the horse.
A horrified gasp moves through the crowd as Billie launches ass over teakettle through the air. She throws out her arms, letting out another holler as she slams into the ground hard, her left arm bent beside her body at an unnatural angle. This holler is a sound of agonized shock.
Then she goes still.
The image hits me like a freight train: my parents flying through the air the same way after they were hit by a car going thirty-plus miles per hour. They were walking across Main Street just as it was getting dark, and an elderly man didn’t see them until it was too late.
No. Fuck. Not again.
I can’t stay in control. Pretend not to care. Not when someone’s life is on the line.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m pushing my way through the crowd. Somewhere it registers that Colt is behind me, and so are Cash and Ava and Duke, who calls my name.
I don’t stop. I have to get to Billie.
I don’t remember hopping the railing, but all of a sudden, my boots are in the dirt and I’m making a beeline for the lifeless figure thirty feet away.
A guy wearing chaps and a paper number pinned to his shirt approaches from the right. One of the bull riders? What the hell is he doing out here?
I’m the first to get to Billie. Falling to my knees, I see that her eyes are closed. Her chest isn’t moving.
I manage to keep my voice steady as I tap my shaking hand to her face. “Billie? Billie, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
Nothing.
Leaning down, I listen for her breath. It’s not there. Did the impact cause her heart to stop? Did a rib puncture her lung, or worse?
No no no.
I should probably wait for the medics, but fuck that. I got CPR certified after Dean was born, and then I brushed up with another class when Ella was on the way. I wanted to make sure Colt and Sawyer would let me babysit their kids.
I know every second counts right now, and I’ll never forgive myself if—
Not gonna think that. Instead, I start CPR—the three letters, C, A, B. Start with chest compressions, then open the airway, then start giving her breaths.
C, A, B. Simple as that.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” It’s the bull rider. The wad of dip stuck in his lower lip makes it sound like he’s chewing on the words. “She don’t need that. Let’s wait for the medics.”
What do you know? Get the fuck away from her, I want to growl.
“I got it,” I say instead. No time to explain myself.
I start the compressions. Nothing.
“If you hurt her—”
“I got it.”
I’m a man possessed. I just—I can’t lose someone again to a tragedy like this.
I won’t survive it.
My whole being is shaking as I open her airway. Then I start mouth-to-mouth.
Billie’s lips are warm. She tastes like—dang it, is that tequila? She must’ve taken a shot before her race to calm her nerves.
I push air into her lungs, silently begging her to come back to me.
Back to us, I mean.
Back to us.