Chapter 4 #2
“You’re going to the doctor the moment we get back. Beau told me you thought we were going to Idaho this weekend.”
“Fucking big mouth,” the blonde guy muttered, smacking his hands against his vest. “Can we get through Idaho first and talk about it later?”
The older man scowled, his face lined with frustration. I stepped back again, straining to catch more of the exchange as their voices dipped lower, becoming harder to hear.
And that’s when it happened.
My boot heel caught awkwardly on the other, and within seconds, I was falling—no, tumbling—backward in the most ungraceful way imaginable.
I landed with a hard thud on my butt, the impact jolting through me. Any buzz I’d had was gone in an instant, replaced by the sharp sting of embarrassment.
The conversation stopped, both men immediately turning toward me.
“Y’alright there?” the older man asked, reaching down to help me up.
The moment my hands hit the ground, my heart started racing for a completely different reason.
The dirt clung to my skin, gritty and unclean, and all I could think about was the germs. It felt like tiny pins and needles crawling over me, burrowing into my hands.
The faint smell of sweat and manure from the arena filled my nose, and my stomach churned.
“S-Sorry,” I mumbled, avoiding their gazes as I took their hands and let them hoist me back to my feet.
My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t bring myself to look directly at the blonde rider, who was biting back what looked like a grin.
I clenched my hands into fists, desperate to ignore the sensation, but it was no use. My chest tightened as panic began to build.
“I, uh, do you know where the closest bathroom is?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you to the locker room. It’s the closest one.”
Relief swept over me, and I nodded. “Thanks. I need to tell my friend first.”
I walked over to Harleigh, still brushing at my pants, trying not to let the rising panic show. “I need to use the bathroom,” I told her quietly. “I, uh . . . I fell.”
She narrowed her eyes in concern as she looked me over. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head slowly, offering a weak smile. “It’s fine.”
Before she could say anything else, the blonde rider stepped in. “I’ll bring her right back,” he said easily.
Harleigh’s eyes flicked to him, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “One piece. If she comes back in two, I’ll find you and chop your balls off.”
The guy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Noted,” he said, still chuckling.
He gestured for me to follow, guiding me away from the group toward a marked-off section with a row of fabric curtains separating the space.
“There’s a washroom back here,” he said, motioning behind the fabric panels. “Some of the guys and their families are hanging out, just a heads-up. I’ll wait and walk you back to the group when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely surprised by his kindness.
“It’s not a problem, ma’am.”
Ma’am. Damn. I was only twenty-six. Far too young to be a ma’am.
He pulled back the fabric curtain, and the space immediately overwhelmed me. The air was thick with noise—voices overlapping, laughter ringing out, the rustle of movement everywhere. Jeans, chaps, and gear I couldn’t even name were scattered across benches and piled on the floor in haphazard heaps.
People were everywhere—kids darting between legs, people chatting in small groups, a few riders lounging around like they owned the place. I caught sight of some of the bull riders with their partners, leaning close, a few stealing kisses like they weren’t surrounded by chaos.
He pointed toward a door in the back, and I forced myself to stop staring, snapping my attention away from the scene. I felt every pair of eyes on us, and my skin prickled with more discomfort.
I muttered a faint “Thanks” before rushing to the door. I pushed it open and slipped inside, turning the lock with trembling fingers.
As the latch clicked into place, I leaned against the cool metal door, letting out a shaky breath. The muffled noise from outside faded, leaving me in a pocket of silence.
My gaze shifted to the grimy sink, and unease crept over me. The faint smudges on the faucet, the water stains on the porcelain—it was far from perfect. I closed my eyes and shook my hands above the sink, trying to steady myself.
Soap and water. It’s just soap and water, I reminded myself, forcing the words to loop through my mind like a mantra.
I pressed down on the soap dispenser, the sticky pump releasing a dollop of foam onto my palm. Slowly, deliberately, I lathered it across my hands, letting the ritual take over.
Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Fable, happy birthday to you.
I rinsed my hands under the water, watching the suds swirl down the drain. Clean. I was clean. The tension in my chest loosened slightly, and I took a deep breath. One thing at a time. That’s all I could do.
I unlocked the door, already feeling lighter that the grime and panic had been scrubbed away. But as I stepped back into the little area, the rush of noise and movement hit me all over again.
I glanced around, searching for the blonde guy who’d promised to walk me back. Nowhere.
Cool, I thought. Another way to panic and die.
I tried to calm myself. I could probably figure out the way back on my own. Worst-case scenario, I’d call Harleigh, and she’d come get me. She’d make a joke, tease me a little, but she’d show up.
I reached for my phone in my back pocket and unlocked it. No bars.
“Perfect,” I muttered, stuffing it back into my pocket.
With a polite smile plastered on my face, I weaved my way through the area, stepping around boots, gear bags, and groups of people deep in conversation. No one paid me any attention, and no one offered to help as I moved toward what I hoped was the way back.
My heart rate picked up, that familiar prickle of anxiety crawling under my skin. I forced myself to take a deep breath. One step at a time, Fable. Just one step at a time.
I pushed open the fabric curtain and stepped into a maze of hallways.
I’d spent months going backstage for this event, learning the layout, but somehow, this part looked completely unfamiliar.
There weren’t bulls in holding areas when I was here last time.
We spent most of the time on the other side of the event space and upstairs by the doors.
These were endless corridors that all looked the same.
“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling out my phone again. I held it up, hoping that by some miracle, a signal might magically appear. Nothing.
BAM.
“Shit,” I grumbled, stumbling backward, rubbing my shoulder. Twice in one day?
I looked up at the person I’d crashed into, blinking in surprise.
He wasn’t particularly tall—definitely under six feet—but he was built solid, with broad shoulders and a thick, impressive mustache.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp from sweat, but his expression was easy, amused even, as he stepped back and gave me a crooked smile.
“Baby, I need some pillows to sleep on tonight.” He had a deep voice, and his tone was low and suggestive.
I froze, blinking at him. “What the fuck?”
His grin widened, and he pointed to my shirt. I glanced down, and heat rushed to my face. Cowboy Pillows. I’d completely forgotten I was wearing it, my jacket tied around my waist leaving the bold letters on full display. Suddenly, all those stares in the fabric-curtained backstage area made sense.
“Fuck me,” I grumbled, yanking my jacket up from around my waist and hastily putting it on.
His mustache twitched slightly as he crossed his arms and chuckled.
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “I’m lost, and no.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, though his grin stayed firmly in place. “Where you headed, Cowgirl? Tryin’ to find yourself a bull rider tonight?”
“No,” I shot back. “Can’t you tell? I’m cosplaying as a cowgirl, not a real one. What the hell would I need a cowboy for?”
His smirk deepened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Good thing I’m not a cowboy, then. I just like to ride something that bucks, baby.”
“Same thing.”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Not really, but I’ll let you have that one.”
“Ugh, you’re no help,” I muttered, glancing around for any sign of where I needed to go. “I’ll find my way back.”
“Suit yourself,” he called after me. “If you get lost again, I’ll be here. Ridin’ bulls and savin’ cosplaying cowgirls.”
I didn’t look back, but his laugh followed me as I stomped off, hoping I was headed the right way.