Epilogue
LANDEN
ONE YEAR LATER
National Finals Rodeo
Vegas, NV
“Here she comes, folks! Ellie Donovan. Fourth-year NFR qualifier in her comeback year. Look out, she and Ranger are the ones to beat!” the emcee bellows out across the packed arena.
Ten consecutive days of competitions with fifteen of the top racers in the country and today’s finally the tenth and final round. We’ll find out who wins the championship based on everyone’s average time.
She’s placed high for almost every round and has won a few of them with decent earnings and prizes. But now, she’s in the running to have one of the fastest average times and win the whole championship.
I know she’s exhausted after the past two weeks of traveling, press, and racing. She’s running on pure adrenaline and has a thirst to win I’ve never seen before.
It’s the most nerve-wracking thing I’ve ever watched.
I’m so damn proud of my wife.
As soon as the music blares through the speakers, Ellie and Ranger sprint into the arena and the crowd cheers louder than I’ve heard them all week. She’s decked out in her signature sparkly pink hat and boots, one of her new buckles, and she put her hair back in pigtail braids today.
Everything about her is stunning.
“Let’s fucking gooooooo!” Noah screams at the top of her lungs, jumping up and down while holding a large sign that reads Finish faster than a man and you can’t lose!
A little inappropriate considering this is supposed to be a family event, but it’s hilarious nonetheless. I’d expect nothing less from my sister, honestly.
Standing next to her with Magnolia on my other side, we watch as she flies around the first barrel effortlessly before charging to the second.
We continue screaming for them, but then I hold my breath as they wrap around the third.
I exhale when they clear it.
Thank God.
“Go, go, go!” I shout with Noah as they bolt to the finish line.
Everyone looks at the screen.
“Thirteen point three seven!” Noah shouts—more like screams—in my ear as she jumps.
“Holy shit…” I whistle. “That’s her fastest yet.”
“There’s no way that doesn’t bring her to number one, right?” Magnolia asks. “That was like the speed of lightning on crack!”
“She’s currently at the top for this round, but it depends on how the other girls do. Once everyone races, they’ll determine the tenth-round winner and then their final averages,” Noah explains to her. “I’d say it’s very close, though.”
We continue watching the rest of the racers, mostly holding my breath and hoping none of them beat her time.
Two girls knock over barrels and won’t win.
When the final racer enters, we all watch with bated breath.
This is it…
Thirteen point five six.
“Yes! That should make her the round ten winner!” Noah shouts, jumping around and making the sign smack me over and over. “Now we wait for them to calculate the averages.”
Nerves and anxiety take over, and I wish I could be with Ellie right now. But I will be soon.
The final lineup for the round appears on the screen, showcasing Ellie as the winner. We cheer again, hoping she hears us. I know she’ll still be happy with that. Winning the rounds pays out good earnings and prizes, too.
Ellie had an amazing year leading up to this. She’s worked her ass off nonstop and deserves all her success.
The biggest scandal of the year was six months ago when Sarah and Samantha, the Smith twins, got disqualified from the PRCA for unethical behavior. Someone found proof and turned them in for drug and alcohol use, which is strictly prohibited for safety reasons.
Not sure who could’ve done that…
Karma’s a bitch.
When the screen changes to reveal the overall average times, my breath catches in my throat, and I swear my heart stops beating for a solid ten seconds.
1. Ellie Donovan - 13.5
She fucking crushed it.
And won the championship.
Our section roars with cheers, jumping and screaming for her, exchanging hugs.
This is unreal.
“We need to go find her!” Noah shouts and our entire group rushes out of the arena.
Ellie’s already on her way to us and when she sees us, we swarm her.
“You did it, baby. I knew you would,” I say in her ear. “I’m so proud of you.”
She’s sobbing by the time I pull back. I know she hates crying and we’re overwhelming her, but she deserves the recognition even if it’s over the top.
She just won her first National Finals Rodeo championship.
“Why’re you so glued to your phone lately?” I ask Waylon, nudging him to pay attention before he walks into a pole. “Especially at seven in the morning.”
“None of your business.”
I roll my eyes at his cocky tone. “C’mon. I tell you everything, so share with the class.”
“Yeah…” Wilder adds, though he sounds utterly clueless.
Though I don’t blame him.
We got three hours of sleep before we had to get up for the airport. Ellie’s driving the trailer back with Fisher and Noah while the rest of us fly home so we can get back to the ranch sooner.
But we spent most of last night celebrating Ellie’s domination. Then we went back to our hotel and had a little naked party by ourselves.
“It’s a chick, ain’t it?” Wilder asks.
“Technically, it’s a group chat. But there’s one in here who always flirts with me.”
“What kind of group chat?”
“My friend Jake added me to this horse club he’s in. They mostly talk about random shit, horses, and some rodeo stuff.”
“A horse club? Are you sure that ain’t code for something else…” Wilder taunts, waggling his brows.
Give it to his twin brother to mock him. I can’t remember the last time Waylon dated someone or even been interested in more than a fling.
“Sounds suspicious to me…” I join in.
“Fuck off, it’s not.”
“Do y’all have a code word?” Wilder asks. “Big Donkey Schlong or Monster Horse Dick.”
I elbow Wilder, trying to fight back laughter because I know Waylon’s not tolerating it.
“What would you know about big dicks anyway?” Waylon muses, and this time I lose my battle of not laughing. These two are about to have a verbal sparring, and I’m currently in the middle of it.
“I dunno…why don’t you ask your ex-girlfriend? She’s seen it…”
My eyes widen as I look between them, waiting to see if fists go flying so I can dodge them.
“Stay away from Delilah, you fucker,” Waylon spits.
“What?” Wilder shrugs. “She wanted an upgrade…”
“Ooookay…” I drawl. “If I have to sit next to y’all on the plane for the next four hours, save the ass kickin’ for when we get home.”
When we get into our seats and buckle in, I lean over toward Waylon. “So tell me about the girl who flirts with you. What’s her name?”
“I dunno. I only see her phone number.”
“Y’all didn’t do introductions or anything?”
“No, Jake didn’t do that. I was added in after they already formed it and they were mid-conversation. When someone said something I could help with, then I chimed in. And it just went from there…”
“Well, you’ve got her number, don’t ya? Just text her and say, Hey, I’m Waylon from the group chat. What’s your name?”
He frowns. “That sounds so high school.”
I arch a brow. “Asking a girl for her name?”
“I’ll think about it.” He shrugs noncommittedly.
“Is she local?”
“I think so.”
“Well, lemme see her number. Maybe I’ll recognize it.”
“How? From your manwhore ways five years ago?” he asks, chuckling, but then goes to the chat and hands me his phone.
“That one…” He points to a number I absolutely do recognize.
And I recognize it because I was helping Noah file some client paperwork a few weeks ago, and I remember laughing to myself that her number had three sixes at the end of it. It reminded me of Ellie’s nickname—Little Devil.
666.
Harlow Fanning.
Delilah’s sister.
Waylon’s ex-girlfriend’s much younger sister.
“Well…do you know it?” Waylon asks when I continue staring at it.
I hand the phone back. “Nope. Sorry, man.”
I’m not about to break his spirit when he finally seems interested in someone for the first time in years. And without even knowing what they look like.
I scratch my jawline, trying to cover up the smirk on my face. “Good luck figuring it out, though.”
He frowns and lifts his shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.”
Shit’s about to get interesting in Sugarland Creek.
Keep reading for Waylon & Harlow’s story in Only With Me