Chapter 4 #3
He agrees with little to no hesitation, and relief rushes over me.
I hate feeling like a burden or a charity case, and now I can stay here feeling like I’m not just getting free handouts.
And with that sense of relief comes an answering flood of exhaustion.
A yawn escapes me, and I realize how late it’s gotten.
"Well, man..." I clap a hand on Sawyer’s back. "I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I think I’m ready to call her quits today."
“Me too. Feel free to grab whatever you need from the house. It’s always unlocked.”
“Thanks again for lettin’ me stay here. Ya seriously don’t know how much this is gonna help me out.”
His smile is subtle but kind. “No worries. See you tomorrow.”
I head back to the bunkhouse and close the door behind me and head straight for bed, releasing a breath that almost feels therapeutic.
I’ve always been outspoken, but talking about all the shit I’ve bottled up so long genuinely made me feel a little better.
Like even though my world has crashed down around me, it’s also brought me something I haven’t had in a long while—a friend.
Who knew my shitty morning would lead me here? But, damn, I’m glad it did.
“And he’s back from the grave.” The announcer’s voice seeps through the speakers. “Rhett Rogers couldn’t stay away long now, could he?”
I ignore him, like I always do, since I know his main goal is to get in my head and make me nervous.
Winking at the crowd of girls I pass on my way to the chute, I feel invincible.
I’m at the top of my game, and, as always, I don’t care what bull I get.
I don’t care about the shit talk, and I don’t even care about the bag.
It’s redemption time and I’m here to prove that my last ride was nothing more than a hiccup, an off day caused by the wrong mindset.
Cockiness isn’t something I have for no reason, it’s the belief I have in my ability. And without a doubt, I know I’m going to make them eat their words tonight.
Waving to the crowd, it roars in response, and I know they are just as excited as I am to be shown what I’m truly made of. I climb into the chute, so unbothered by my surroundings that I don’t even look down to place my hand within the confines of the strap.
I gesture that I am ready to go, the gate swings open, and as we lunge past the bars, I catch a glimpse of someone rather unexpected.
The blonde from the bar a few months back. Why is she here?
My mother screams from the sidelines in horror as the bull makes his first turn.
She’s never screamed for no reason before, and now my focus feels like it’s spread thin.
I search the crowd for her but we move so fast that everyone feels like a blur.
Looking down, I finally realize the beast that I’m perched atop of. Helfire?
Fuck.
Wait, why is all of this happening?
He slams his hooves to the ground, bounding left and right, trying to shake me. I usually count the seconds off in my head, but with everything happening I somehow simply just…forgot?
I’m consumed with confusing distractions. My mother’s scream bellowing through the crowd, the blonde I don’t even know, and an opponent that seems to rile me just with his name alone.
The beast revolves again and I start to slide from my seat, my grip now feeling like it all but exists.
I have trained for this for so long, and yet it’s like I have no muscle memory, no skill, just oil-slick skin and a weak grip.
Slamming to the ground, I’m in shock. What the fuck is happening?
How long was I even on? Where’s the bull?
He turns toward me and we make eye contact.
I know I should keep my focus on him but the room feels eerily quiet.
Turning my head for a split second, I find the entire stadium is empty.
Where the fuck did everyone go? I encourage myself to move, trying to figure out a direction to roll. Hell, where to run once I do.
Darkness falls over the stadium without warning. I question if he can see or if his senses alone outweigh mine. I need to get out of here, but I can’t move. My boots feel like they are nailed to the ground and there’s no way to break free.
What the fuck? I seriously can’t move.
I hear the weight of his body trek toward me, then stop. Every muscle in my body strains, but it’s no use. In the crushing darkness, a single sound rises above the silence that has descended on the arena. One that fills me with dread: a low grunt from the bull.
And even though it’s completely dark, even though I have no idea what direction the sound came from, he sure as hell knows where I am. I feel the charge like a stampede, the ground shaking with each of the bull’s steps, growing in intensity as he gets closer.
A chilling thought settles over me, freezing me in place.
I’m going to die.
Jolting awake, sweat slicks my skin, and I swear, my body feels just as weak as when I woke up in that hospital bed.
Pain runs through me like I got hurt for a second time.
I grimace as a dull ache radiates through my skull.
Fuck. Ever since that day Helfire hit me, these random, splitting headaches have become normal.
A small price to pay, I guess, in the grand scheme of things though.
I’d rather have headaches and live to see another day.
Fuck, what a nightmare. How many days, weeks, months will I deal with the weight of my greatest failure? How much longer will that ride continue to haunt me?
As much as I want—no, need—to get back on a bull again, I just..
.I can’t do it. At first I told myself it was the money, and I wish it was just that, but I hate that I can’t seem to get it out of my head.
I hate that I can’t just do what I love.
And most of all, I know there’s something else holding me back and its not just that I’m fucking terrified of it.