Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brent showed up for his next practice with a skip in his step and a smile on his face.
As the wedding day and the big rodeo event drew closer, was he getting antsy?
Of course. But with Faith by his side, he knew he’d figure it out.
She was his rock. She’d be able to help him keep his head in the game.
At this point he wasn’t going to tell his parents anything. And he wasn’t going to tell Tripp about the event until closer to the day. Because that would only stir the pot at home and frankly, he didn’t want to be kicked out of the house.
Faith wasn’t anywhere in sight when he showed up at her house, but her sisters were visiting on the porch drinking what appeared to be lemonade.
Wait, no. Not lemonade.
They were drinking iced tea.
Brent rolled his eyes. He had one guess where that particular beverage came from and it was more than likely the man who lived under his same roof.
Word was spreading that he was the best at fixing the concoction and the small town of Rocky Ridge was getting their own dose of southern charm from Tripp Gilley himself.
Brent chuckled to himself and headed for the corral where he’d be practicing with Tate and Jason. Only, the latter wasn’t there.
Tate was working with one of the several teens who were getting ready to compete in the youth events coming up at the end of the month.
They were all making great progress. It was fascinating to see their growth and measure it against his own. Not that he was trying to compete with teenagers, but because he wondered how far he would have come if he’d been offered an earlier start like they had.
The kid was a gangly teen with a mop of dark hair. It was damp with sweat which became all the more apparent when he tossed his hat aside out of frustration.
“You need to remember that balance is key. That’s what makes this a difficult but rewarding sport. Anyone can call themselves a cowboy, but the men who can stay in the saddle when a horse is intent on throwing them to the dirt are the real ones.” Tate clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I didn’t even stay on for eight seconds last time. I couldn’t—”
“I know what you’re going to say. And I’m going to stop you right there. Don’t compare your stats to the other competitors.”
Brent grinned because that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To beat the other players in the game?
Clearly the kid had a similar sentiment because he glowered at Tate like he was an idiot.
Tate laughed. “One day you will. But right now, that’s not the priority. I want you to beat your last record. I want to see you improve based on what we know you’re capable of. Understand?”
Huh. Good point. Brent watched with additional interest as the kid nodded even though his shoulders slumped. Tate scooped the hat from the ground, dusted it on his leg, then placed it on the boy’s head. The kid glanced up at Brent, nodded, then headed off to where a truck had just pulled up.
When he was out of earshot, Brent let out a whistle. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“Not better than you,” Tate mused.
Brent snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would have told the kid that it’s important to beat the other competitors. That wouldn’t have done him any good.”
“Maybe,” Tate agreed, “but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You have a knack with teaching these kids. You phrase things in a way that speaks to them. I don’t know how you do it.”
Brent shrugged off the compliment. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Have you considered sticking around and teaching? I think you’d be good at it.”
Another snort escaped his throat. “Yeah. I can see it now. My parents would totally get a kick out of their son teaching others to risk their necks in the arena.”
“At least you’re not risking yours?” They shared an amused look before Brent turned to scan the area.
“Where’s Faith?”
Tate’s jovial demeanor shifted to annoyance. Okay, he might have been willing to let Brent date his sister, but he still wasn’t thrilled with the notion. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah right. You always know where your sisters are. She out running errands? School hasn’t started yet.”
Tate turned to gather the materials he’d been using with the kid. “I think she’s sick.”
“Really?” Brent strode after him. “Sick? She didn’t tell me that.”
The man glanced at him with what could only be considered a bored expression. “Yeah. Been holed up in her room most of the day. I don’t know. Maybe she ate something that didn’t agree with her at the barbeque.”
“That was two days ago.”
Tate shrugged again. “She hasn’t exactly been up and about since then. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Brent turned to find her when Tate’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You have practice. Go check on her after—on your own time.”
He couldn’t fight the frustration that threatened to explode in his chest. This was Tate’s sister. Wouldn’t he want Brent to check in on her?
The man in question answered the question before Brent could ask.
“Look, she’s fine. She’s not dying. She’s coming down to get things to eat here and there.
If the situation was dire, I would have taken her to the hospital myself.
” Tate’s expression left no room for argument.
He had a job to do and Brent wasn’t going to persuade him otherwise.
Finally, Brent nodded. “Yeah, okay. But we have to cut this one short. I’m going to check on her whether you like it or not.”
Maybe it was Brent’s imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Tate’s lips twitch just the slightest bit.
They got to work, spending a lot of time on core exercises. Since he’d gotten his footwork squared away, most of his points were coming from the movements he made in the saddle—the fluidity of it all.
By the end of it, his muscles were screaming but Brent refused to pay them any attention.
Faith belonged to him and she hadn’t even told him that she wasn’t feeling well.
Belong to him.
It was the first time he’d thought of her in that respect.
No, they weren’t married. And yes, their relationship was still very new.
But he wanted her to know that she could come to him anytime she needed something.
And if she was feeling sick, he would be first in line to bring her chicken noodle soup and tea.
Faith’s sisters were still out on the porch when he hurried toward the house. Their eyes roved over him appreciatively before Lydia jerked her chin toward the house. “She’s either in her room or in the kitchen.”
When he stared at her blankly, she smiled sweetly at him. “Upstairs, first door on the left.”
He nodded his thanks and entered the quiet house.
On the couch, Jason was asleep. He was dressed in his usual jeans and button-down shirt, his boots removed, and a hat over his face. It appeared he’d overdone it too, with the way he was sprawled out and napping.
Brent glanced at him only a second before he kicked off his own boots then moved through the house. The kitchen was quiet, but the faint smell of toast filled the air. The house was clean and modest for the most part, especially seeing as a family of five lived under its roof.
Rounding the corner to where the stairs were located, Brent took them two at a time, passing family photos that were hanging on the wall.
He paused at one of just the Dennison children.
They had to all be younger than fifteen in the picture and they were all smiling.
But it wasn’t the fact that they were children and happy in the picture that caught his attention.
It was the fact that they were covered head to toe in mud.
And right there in the center of the picture was Faith, hugging a plastic first aid kit to her chest.
Brent smirked and shook his head. Even as a child she wanted to help people feel better. He half-wondered if anyone needed anything from that kit on that day.
Turning, he headed up the rest of the stairs and made it to the room where Lydia had directed. It was partially ajar so when he rapped his knuckles on the surface, it swung inward a few inches. “Faith?”
There was a scrambling and shuffling of what sounded like papers. But then her soft voice called out to him. “Brent? Is that you?”
He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. “Your brother said you weren’t feeling well.”
On her bed were several sheets of paper and as he drew closer, he realized they were printed articles about rodeos from over two decades ago. He frowned and met her eyes. She looked away immediately as if she felt guilty for whatever it was she was doing.
“Are you okay?” he asked, situating himself on the edge of the bed.
“Fine,” she said, her voice clearly strained.
“Doesn’t sound like you’re fine. What are you up to? What’s all this?” He picked up an article about a rising rodeo star whose life was cut short.
Faith snatched the article from his fingers but not before he read the name.
Louis Murray Brent
He frowned and peered over at her. Already he could tell she was agitated. She didn’t look well, much like Tate had said. But there was something more. Unfortunately, Brent knew that look. It wasn’t one that Faith showed often if at all. But it was familiar all the same.
It was the look his mother gave him when he talked about wanting to be part of the rodeo.
Pure, unadulterated fear.
Was Faith worried that he was going to get hurt? Had something happened to change her perspective on this? He wanted to ask her, but he was too scared for the answer. What would he do if she told him she never wanted him to compete again?
This was just like the argument his parents had all over again.
So rather than bring it up, he remained silent. If Faith wanted to be the person to ask him to sacrifice his dream, then so be it. He wasn’t going to make life easy on her.
Faith grabbed all the pages she’d had spread out on the bed around her. Then she stacked them and flipped them over. She still didn’t meet his eyes.
“Faith?” he asked again.
She shook her head. Then she nodded. Then she sucked in a deep breath and finally met his gaze. “Yeah, I’m not feeling all that great.”
“Does it have something to do with the articles you’ve been reading?
” Not all of them were about that Louis guy, but several were.
The others were about other accidents that had taken cowboy lives far too soon.
His stomach churned at the thought of Faith succumbing to the fear that came with this lifestyle. It was silly, really.
She had brothers who competed. Friends. A boyfriend.
And now?
Suddenly, now she wanted to let her fear take control?
“Does this have to do with Hallie?” The question slipped past his lips before he had a chance to really consider if he wanted the answer. If Hallie was whispering things in Faith’s ear to get her on Hallie’s side, Brent would never forgive her.
At his question, Faith stiffened but she also shook her head a little too vigorously. “No, it has nothing to do with her.” She chewed on her lower lip, looked up at him for a few moments, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and shook her head again. “I just… I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“And the articles?”
She broke eye contact with him and turned her attention to the window. “Just research.”
“For what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped so suddenly that he startled. Then her voice softened and she looked at him again. “It doesn’t matter, really. I’m just doing research.”
“For school? Classes don’t start—”
“Since when do I need an excuse to do research?”
He shrugged. Of course she was right. And he felt like a jerk for pushing the issue when she was clearly struggling.
He didn’t know what was bothering her, though he had an inkling.
It was the same feeling he got around his family lately.
When his parents wouldn’t tell him something because they thought he’d be the one to suffer.
Unfortunately, Faith was the one struggling and his hands itched to pull her close and tell her that whatever it was, she’d be okay. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to them.
Something he couldn’t explain held him back.
“Are you going to be okay?” he whispered instead.
She nodded but he had a hard time believing her. Their relationship was too new for him to know what to do. Did he force her to talk to him? Did he give her space?
As much as he hated to admit it, that sallow look on her face was almost enough to have him reconsidering his upcoming competitions. If she was scared for his safety, how could he call himself a good man—good enough for her—if he willingly did something to cause her stress.
But no.
That wasn’t the Faith he knew. She wanted him to be happy. She’d supported him this far. And she was going into medicine. None of this made any sense.
He reached for her hand, relieved that she didn’t pull away. Then he rubbed the back of it with his calloused thumb. “Want me to get you anything? Soup? Your favorite dessert from the bakery? I can’t make cookies like you, but… I could try.”
She looked up at him and he could have sworn there were tears shining in her eyes. But she blinked them away and smiled. “I’m okay, Brent. Thank you.”
He nodded. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He grimaced inwardly at the offer.
Because whether he liked it or not, if she sat him down and told him it was over unless he considered leaving the rodeo, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t go along with it.
When it came to losing his dream or losing the girl, there was no easy decision.
Faith’s smile widened but it still seemed sad. “I know.”