Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“How are the Dennison’s doing?”
Brent flinched, his shoulders stiff as he fought the urge to bring them to his ears. How was it that his mother could always tell when he was hiding something from her? They’d successfully avoided the topic of the rodeo and the argument they’d had a few weeks ago.
As far as he could tell his parents weren’t aware of his little rodeo escapade last weekend. If someone had told them, he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. Thankfully, he’d gone to an event in the next town over so he wouldn’t risk being recognized.
His plan would continue to get harder because Rocky Ridge was becoming more and more popular as a host city for the rodeo itself. He wasn’t sure how he was going to compete without his uncles and aunts finding out, but right now he couldn’t think about that.
“Brent?”
He flinched again and glanced up at his mother with blinking surprise. “Yeah?”
“The Dennison boys. How are they doing?”
“They’re not boys anymore mom.”
She smiled at him. “They will always be boys to me. You met them when you were sixteen.”
He sighed. “They’re good, mom.”
His mother nodded and turned to the stove where she was cooking pasta. She didn’t have to face him for him to understand exactly what she was getting at when she asked, “Are they still competing in the rodeo?”
Every muscle in his body coiled tight. His mother didn’t used to ask about Tate and Jason’s extracurricular activities. At least not before he’d confessed that he was interested in joining them. Now she poked and prodded, fished for information that he didn’t want to give her.
“Yeah, mom,” he finally murmured while he set the table. “They’re still in the rodeo.” He waited for her response. For her to tell him that she was worried about their well-being and that she didn’t want him hanging around them since they’d be a bad influence.
Thankfully, it didn’t come.
Honestly, her behavior was getting stranger by the day. It was like she’d started to spiral. She’d always been protective. Always had rules about getting on a horse and the kind of work she was okay with them doing on the ranch. And yes, always a firm rule about no competitive sports in the rodeo.
It had gotten worse.
His mother hovered. She asked too many questions. But as long as he didn’t bring up his dreams, she didn’t fight him.
Instead, he focused on topics that were far safer. “Did you know that Faith has an interest in medicine?”
“Oh?” His mother glanced at him over her shoulder. “What kind of medicine?”
“All of it, I think. But maybe leaning toward sports medicine.” Yes, this was a safer topic. His mother had always liked Tate’s younger sisters. “I think it’s a missed opportunity if she doesn’t look into it, don’t you?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. Sometimes people want something but it’s not a good fit.”
Yeah, real subtle, mom.
Brent blew out a breath. “Tripp wanted to go into horse dentistry. You didn’t think that was a bad fit.”
His mother stopped stirring the noodles on the stove and he winced.
He should have known better than to bring up his brother.
There was no dancing around the topic of what Brent wanted because he’d constantly brought up the fact that his brother was allowed to fork out money for education long after he’d passed the age of deciding what he wanted to be when he ‘grew up’.
Part of Brent wanted to shout, ‘What about me?’, ‘What about what I want?’ as he pointed out how unfair it was that he wasn’t given the same opportunities as his older brother.
But he knew better than to ask those questions as well. His parents had offered to send him to college to learn a trade. They just didn’t want him to put himself in ‘danger’.
Life was dangerous. No one was promised to live another day. He could get in a car accident. He could have a heart attack. Heck, a plane could fall out of the sky and land on their house. But heaven forbid he get in a saddle and live his life to the fullest.
His mother faced him, her expression hard. “Brent, we talked about—”
“It’s fine, mom,” he muttered weakly. “I know.” With that, he placed the last glass on the table. “Will Wendy be coming to dinner tonight?”
“I think so.”
He nodded and retrieved one more place setting.
“Brent—”
“I’m going to shower. I’ll be ready for dinner.” With those parting words, he headed to his room.
Despite all his misgivings about the fairness of it all, his frustration over not being seen by his parents wasn’t the worst part. The hardest thing to overcome was the debilitating guilt.
Guilt that he wasn’t grateful enough to accept the life his parents had given him.
Guilt that he wasn’t honoring their wishes when they had years of wisdom on him.
Guilt that he worried them for even suggesting that he could compete.
And finally, guilt that he was going behind their backs and following his dreams anyway.
He shoved his hands into his hair and sighed. One day they would find out. One day they would look at him with that disappointment he hated so much. And then what? They’d probably kick him out of the house. Disown him. He’d lose his family all because he wanted something he could call his own.
Brent pushed the corn around his plate with his fork while Wendy and Tripp discussed the plans for their wedding. His parents were completely engrossed in the conversation with the happy couple. Of course they would be.
Tripp had finally decided to settle down. While he hadn’t been an easy son, he never questioned the rules that their parents had laid down.
There were many. In fact, most of the rules growing up were completely normal. Respect, hard work, loyalty, and developing characteristics that would make their family proud.
It was only the one that Brent was finding harder and harder to wrap his mind around.
He wasn’t crazy, was he? His parents’ aversion to the rodeo was weird.
“What do you say, Brent?”
His head popped up and he glanced at his brother. “Huh?”
“Be my best man?”
Brent swung his focus from Tripp to Wendy and then to his expectant parents. A smile pulled at his lips. “Of course.”
“And do you have a date?” his mother asked.
Wendy fielded this one. “We were thinking about August twenty-eighth. It’s the last Saturday of the month and we’ve already ordered our save-the-dates. I plan on mailing them out in a few weeks.”
Brent stiffened.
No.
Why did it have to be that day? How was he supposed to compete in the national event if he had to be in Tripp’s wedding?
“Brent, honey, are you okay? You look pale.”
He whipped his head around to stare at his mother. The concern in her eyes only added to his growing guilt. He didn’t feel well at all. He might actually get sick. Tripp cared about him. He would understand if Brent had to leave for a few hours to compete.
Wouldn’t he?
Or was this one more thing he would need to keep secret?
Probably.
What if he wasn’t good enough to compete in August? He wouldn’t miss Tripp’s wedding just to make a fool of himself in the arena. Maybe he could keep training and as the date got closer, he could talk to Tripp about his plans.
Everyone was staring at him now.
Shoot! He hadn’t answered.
Clearing his throat, he pushed away from the table. “Yeah, just tired. I had a long day. I’m going to head to bed.”
“But it’s barely eight o’clock.”
He flashed his brother a smile, but he could tell that he wasn’t fooling anyone. “All good. Nice seeing you, Wendy.”
She nodded, a small frown marring her own features.
Brent made it to his room without incident.
About an hour later, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his next steps when he heard the knock on his door.
Tripp didn’t bother waiting for Brent to invite him in before he strode inside, hands in his pockets and acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Maybe he didn’t.
“Okay, you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to wrestle it out of you?”
Brent scoffed. “You haven’t beat me in a wrestling competition since we entered high school. You were too focused on the girls to care about maintaining your strength training.”
“I bet I could take you if you weren’t expecting it.”
His gaze slid across the room to where his brother now leaned against the door. “Yeah, well, that’s what we call cheating.”
Tripp chuckled and moved farther into the room. “So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bull.”
“You can believe what you want,” Brent murmured. “It’s never stopped you before.”
The mattress dipped when Tripp settled on the edge. “Is this about the wedding?”
Not really, and at the same time absolutely. Brent sighed. “No.”
“Liar.”
Brent sighed again. “If you think you know the answer already, why even ask?”
Tripp shifted, leaning back on his hands. “What’s going on, baby brother.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Come on,” Tripp teased. “Something is up and it’s my duty as the older brother to get you to tell me so mom can get off my back.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
Brent sat up and pushed backward until he rested against the headboard. “You remember that argument I had with mom and dad about the rodeo?”
Tripp’s expression turned guarded. “Yeah.”
“It was weird.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t—”
“Think about it, Tripp. Mom’s siblings. Aunt Jennifer married Eli, and they love the rodeo.
They love this lifestyle so much that they built this ranch and asked everyone to come out here to be close to each other.
Uncle Chip didn’t hesitate to come out here either.
And from what I remember, he always let Hallie do whatever she wanted when it came to riding horses and competing.
But ask mom and dad to go to any event where there’s bronc riding or bull riding and it’s an absolute no. ”
“To be fair, we didn’t grow up in this world, Brent,” Tripp reminded him. “We lived in the city. City folk only come out to the country to pretend to be cowboys. I think mom and dad just prefer the niceties of city life. That’s all.”
Brent shook his head hard. “No. Because it’s not that they don’t like the rodeo.
They detest it. They rant and rave about the dangers and the problems that the competitors deal with when they retire.
They refuse to step foot on the fairgrounds when any event is planned.
You can’t tell me that’s not weird. Why won’t they just go to enjoy a sport?
Dad likes Nascar. Heck, they both watch football.
How many times have people been hurt in those sports, huh? What makes rodeos so different?”
Tripp was quiet.
Finally.
Brent could see the wheels turning in his brother’s head as he considered the question. Then he shrugged and Brent lost all hope of his brother being on his side.
“I don’t know, Brent. But it’s not up to us to choose what they feel is safe or not. And mom had a point. You’re living under her roof. That means following her rules.” Tripp’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about the competition last Saturday?”
Brent’s whole body froze.
Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!
“How… did you hear about that?”
Tripp scoffed. “Your friends and my friends are the same people, Brent.”
“Tate and Jason?”
“No…” Tripp drawled. “But there were some guys at the event Saturday, and I bumped into them. They said you did good.”
The brief feeling of accomplishment that Tripp’s words gave Brent quickly disappeared when he got a good look at Tripp’s frown.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Brent.” His voice lacked disappointment. That was surprising. Brent had expected to get a lecture from his brother over this. Then again, Tripp had been acting a little different ever since he’d fallen in love with Wendy.
“I know what I’m doing,” Brent assured him.
“And what is that, exactly?”
Brent swallowed hard. Now was not the time to tell his brother of his plans for the end of the summer. Especially not after he’d announced the wedding date and asked him to be his best man.
“Having fun,” Brent said with a shrug.
“Fun? You’re willing to start a war with our parents just so you can have some fun?” Tripp whistled. “I can’t tell if you’re being brave or just downright stupid.” The grin that spread across Tripp’s face softened the blow of his words. “Just… promise me something, will you?”
Brent eyed his brother with a degree of trepidation. “What?”
“Be careful.”
He blew out a breath of relief and nodded. “I will.”
“I mean it. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“I’m not scared of getting hurt. That’s par for the course.”
Tripp sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “I know. But I think it would kill mom and dad if something happened to you. Something permanent.”
Statistically speaking, people didn’t die often. But they did get broken bones. Brent was mentally prepared for whatever the sport would dish out to him. “I’ll be fine, Tripp.”
His brother didn’t look convinced. His focus shifted to the cut on Brent’s forehead. “You get that on Saturday?”
Brent didn’t bother touching the wound. It was almost healed anyway. He dipped his head in a nod.
“Thought so.” He shook his head but didn’t say anything more. Instead, he got to his feet. “Goodnight, Brent.” He made it to the door and had a hand on the knob when Brent stopped him.
“Tripp?”
His brother paused and glanced at him over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
For keeping my secret.
For understanding.
For being there for me.
Brent shrugged, then murmured, “For being my brother.”
Tripp flashed him a grin. “Yeah, man. Of course.”