Sage
It hadn’t been the first time I’d heard him say he loved me, but it felt different now.
It made me feel things I didn’t know I was ready for and honestly, scared the shit out of me.
Somewhere between getting off the plane from Vegas and him making me orgasm in his old room, my emotions started to get involved.
I’d protected myself for so long and although I trusted Christian — trusted him with my body and my truth — I didn’t know if I was ready to trust him with my heart.
The last time I trusted a man to love me, he’d turned around and beat me.
Not that I ever thought Christian would lay a hand on me.
I was scared. It was hard to trust my judgement when it already failed me once.
There was no sign of Clayton for two weeks after Christian and him exchanged punches. Whether he returned to the Rez to lick his wounds or he had business to attend to, I felt like that was the least of my concerns.
Christian didn’t stay over after that night, but it didn’t keep us from finding opportunities to exchange hand jobs — sometimes in the tack room at the farm when he was there to help his dad or train for his next rodeo event, sometimes in his truck when he dropped by The Rooster to see if I needed a ride home.
He continued to respect my boundaries of no kissing on the lips even though it didn’t stop him from pressing his lips to my throat.
The trouble was, I was starting to want to kiss him.
Especially when his minty breath feathered across my face and made my breath catch.
I helped Agatha prepare for the holidays where I could, and we both kept a look out for Alani if she ever did decide to show up.
When Christmas came around, everyone gathered in the Riggs house for dinner.
I was trying my best to hold up the ruse of our engagement for everyone, but it didn’t come easily for me.
I wasn’t one for public displays of affection, so it was on-brand for me not to be all over Christian in front of everyone.
It wasn’t until Christian surprised me with a kiss on the cheek in front of his family and our friends after he opened his Christmas present — a painting of Arlo I’d made for him — and I froze up like a fucking statue instead of kissing him back, that I got some fleeting curious looks.
The pull of attraction was intensifying with each lingering touch and I was barely holding on to my no kissing rule.
It was my last-ditch effort to hold some boundary for us.
For some reason kissing felt more intimate to me than having his fingers in my pussy.
Kissing felt dangerous. Kissing felt like it could steal my heart and then shatter it to pieces.
The fact that it was starting to feel inevitable made me jittery as hell.
None of this was fair to Christian. I was still holding him at arm’s length even when he was leaning all the way in. I didn’t want to hurt him and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it for him on New Year's Eve because I was triggered.
I was on shift at the bar that night. Lina, Reed, Romy, Jude, Christian, and Kale were all there celebrating with everyone else.
We were minutes away from midnight when Christian pulled me onto his lap and whispered into my ear, “You finally going to let me kiss you, star fire?”
Alarm bells went off, reminding me of the countless times Clayton had forced kisses on to me. I squirmed out of his embrace so fast, my heart pounding. “Absolutely not!”
I immediately regretted my reaction, reminding myself Christian wasn’t Clayton, as I walked away.
I could tell I hurt him. Especially when the other couples were sharing their New Year’s kiss in front of him.
Even Kale had found a willing tourist to make out with at the bar.
And he was left there to watch them while he sat there drinking his beer.
We were supposed to be engaged and I pushed him away like he was hot coals.
My heart clenched. This was what I was afraid of.
That I wouldn’t be able to give myself fully to him.
That my trauma was too much of an obstacle.
My walls were too high, a fucking fortress around my heart.
You could only heal so much from something like the abuse I endured for years.
It was a part of me now. My scars had deep roots that were holding me together.
Tissue so calloused not even Christian could penetrate.
I was bound to hurt him. He didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone who was as obsessed with him as he was.
I tried to text him later to apologize, but he brushed me off, telling me that everything was okay and he understood.
Three days later, we were in Portland for Bullmania. Christian and Kale were competing, and since it was local — albeit three hours away — everyone decided to make the trip to get a break from the snow.
Other than Las Vegas, I’d never been to a big city before. Bridges crossed back and forth over the river that ran through the city. The indoor arena loomed beside the river, the rounded dome roof making it look like a giant mushroom.
We funneled in, scanning our tickets, and climbing the stadium steps up to our seats.
The lights and music made Bullmania feel like it was a rock show.
The MC announced the bull riders as they entered the arena, the spotlights shining on each one.
When they introduced Kale and Christian, our crowd went wild, Jude and Lina being the loudest.
Kale’s ride was first and he came out of the gate looking like he should have gotten a buckle at the NFR, like he had something to prove. His bull, All Business and No Play, seemed to be living up to his name too, jumping right out of the chute and spinning away from his hand.
“Atta boy!” Chuck hollered, applauding as Kale dismounted flawlessly and ran to the fence. The bullfighters and pickup man herded All Business and No Play through the gate to the pen.
Six other riders went, but Kale and his bull were still at the top of the leaderboard.
Christian was up next. He sat on top of the chute, readying to mount his bull. It was a white bull named Silverado.
“Silverado is a rank bull,” Chuck was telling us. “He’s known for being unpredictable with high kicks and jumps. If Christian can manage his control and balance for eight seconds, he may take this one.”
From our position, I couldn’t get a good look at the bull, but I could tell he was tall. If anyone could handle that bull it was Christian and his long legs.
Silverado shifted restlessly in the chute as Christian climbed in. He was ready to go, trying to buck before they even opened the gate. Christian waited for him to settle enough before mounting him and shifting into position, his arm raised and ready.
I found myself growing nervous, biting my lip while I rested my chin on my clasped hands. I tapped my toes anxiously. I’d never been worried before, always confident in Kale and Christian’s rides, up until now. He’d done this over a hundred times. This was just like the last time. He’d be fine.
My heart pounded in my chest.
The gate flung open, the bull immediately jumped into the arena, spinning away from his hand.
He kicked high, sending Christian a little too far forward, his helmet hitting the bull’s horns. Hard.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
The forward momentum threw him off balance.
“Shit.” I held my breath.
His body was being flung to the side and he was losing his grip.
But his hand was caught.
“Fuck. Too much resin.” Chuck groaned.
Another high jump and he was falling off the side of the bull. Powerful legs continued to run and jump while Christian dangled off the side, the hooves kicking him in the side.
“His hand!” Lina gasped beside me.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” was all I could say as I watched in horror, unable to do anything to stop this from happening.
Bullfighters were rushing in to help, but he was still stuck and with Silverado continuing to change direction and kick, it was near impossible for them to reach him.
Bile rose in my throat when I saw his arm go slack.
“Fuck,” Chuck cursed, already pushing down our row to run to the arena floor.
It felt like forever watching his body be flung around and kicked before his gloved hand finally released from the bucking rope.
As soon as he was off, I was moving, following Chuck down the stairs toward the floor. Christian’s body fell beneath the bull, each kick landing on him and tossing him around.
Collective cries and gasps came from the crowd.
Before I was even halfway down the steps, the bullfighters had gotten Silverado away from him. Pickup men on horses were coming in with their lassos ready, trying to herd him back to the pen, while rodeo staff were rushing toward Christian.
He lay there motionless, his limbs out in weird, stiff angles.
My heart hammered in my ears as I ran down the steps to catch up with Chuck.
The crowd had settled into a quiet hum of concern.
Staff and cowboys surrounded him, blocking everyone’s view.
Please be okay, Christian. Please.
Chuck was already by the chutes and was talking to someone in hurried tones by the time I’d caught up with him.
“Chuck!” I called and he turned to me, his eyes giving his fear away. “Is he okay?”
The look on Chuck’s face made me want to throw up.
He frowned. “They’re taking care of him now. Come on. He’s going to the hospital. We’ll meet them there.” He looked up at the rest of our group still at their seats, waving at them to follow us.
I looked back to the arena floor just as a stretcher was brought out. I still couldn’t see him and I felt like I was dying not seeing any glimpse of movement.
“Please be okay,” I prayed again as I followed Chuck out of the stadium.