Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Tripp
Levi kills it, as I’d known he would. Top scores in both of his events, and I feel a swell of pride as I watch him, knowing that across the arena, Marci is seeing the same thing I am. That shouldn’t affect me as much as it does, but it’s like a sucker-punch right to the heart.
She’s gotten under my skin in the short time since we met her, and I’m all but picturing a life with her.
I messed it up this morning, stuck in anxiety and regret and my old stupid ways.
I can’t help the way I am, with the rituals and rules and the neat order in which I organize my life.
You would think as a bull rider, someone who risks their life for the thrill of it, I wouldn’t be as rigid as I am, but I think it makes me more so.
I can’t always control what happens once I climb atop that bull, but I can control everything up until that point.
So that’s what I do. It’s always served me well.
But I can see that today, it isn’t. It’s made me too cautious, too superstitious, too afraid.
I’ve been telling myself all morning that these things don’t matter, that they don’t actually affect the outcome of my ride, but I know that in a way they do.
Because doing them makes me feel better.
It eases all the anxiety. It gives me the illusion of control in a situation where I have none.
And that’s always been a good thing.
Today it doesn’t feel that way. Because I didn’t follow my rituals and I threw caution to the wind.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I didn’t have that control to lean on.
If I lose, I won’t feel like I had done everything I could.
The anxiety is like a claw at my chest, ripping me up from the inside out.
I can’t get my brain to settle or my heart to stop racing.
I’d never felt like this before, and it doesn’t bode well for my upcoming ride.
With all the deals I’d made with myself about the outcome of this event, it isn’t looking good for my future either.
Levi
I’m riding a high, coming off two very successful events when I find Marci in the stands, and wrap my arm around her shoulders.
It feels like she stiffens, but it’s gone so fast that maybe I’d imagined it. Her smile is warm and flirty when she turns to me. “Congratulations, cowboy.”
“Well, thank ya,” I drawl, turning up that country-boy twang in my voice that has mostly all but faded over the years. I squeeze her tighter for a moment, then allow my arm to drop so it’s hanging loosely behind her, still draped across her waist, but not gripping. “I haven’t seen Tripp.”
“Black Thunder.” Marci’s voice is tight.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That was his draw. They announced it a little while ago.”
“Okay.” As the bull belongs to the rodeo, the name means nothing to me. Evidently though, it means something to Marci.
“He’s the toughest in the game,” she explains. “Not just here, but for several states. Maybe all of the west, honestly. “No cowboy has stayed on for the full eight seconds in years.”
I nod, hearing the tension in her voice, and try to hide my own nerves. “It’s okay. Tripp can do it.”
“Yeah,” she responds flatly.
I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Tripp was off his game today. But still, Black Thunder may be the toughest bull in the west, but Tripp is the toughest bull rider in the states. If anyone can pull this off, it’s him. Right?
He has too, I think as I look over at Marci and my heart stutters. Thanks to the little games Tripp plays with himself, there’s far too much riding on this event. I hate that, and for a moment, I hate Tripp for even saying it.
But I can’t think like that right now. I have to be positive. The announcer is calling Tripp up, and the show’s about to start.
Marci
The arena seems to hold its breath.
I sit forward on the metal bench, my fingers curled around the edge as I watch Tripp settle onto Black Thunder.
Even from here, I can see the bull's muscles rolling beneath his black hide, his head tossing impatiently.
Dust clings to his horns and shoulders, and every stomp sends a little cloud drifting through the bright arena lights.
Beside me, Levi shifts closer. I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. But he’s still worried about me.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod, though my stomach is already twisting. “Yeah.”
It isn't true. I feel like I’m going to puke.
Like I want to run out of the arena and out of the fairgrounds and forget about the perfect night I had with my hunky rodeo cowboys.
Because as invested as I am, I know this can’t go anywhere.
My home is Blue River, and I’m not cut out for the riskiness of it all.
The gate swings open.
Black Thunder explodes out of the chute.
My heart jumps into my throat.
Tripp's free hand flies up, his body snapping with the bull's first violent twist. Black Thunder bucks hard, launching his hindquarters into the air before dropping and twisting again. Tripp stays centered.
“Come on, Tripp!” I shout, leaping to my feet before I know what I’m doing.
The crowd is roaring now. I barely hear anything except the pounding of my own heart and Levi yelling beside me.
One second.
Two.
Black Thunder spins left, then suddenly reverses direction. Tripp's legs clamp down, his shoulders moving with the bull instead of against him.
Three.
Four.
The bull bucks so hard that Tripp nearly gets thrown over his shoulder. Somehow, he recovers. He straightens, his free hand still high in the air.
Five.
I realize I'm holding my breath.
Six.
For one perfect second, relief rushes through me.
Then Black Thunder bucks again.
Tripp's grip breaks.
He flies sideways, hitting the dirt with a sickening thud before rolling once. The crowd's roar changes instantly, excitement collapsing into a collective gasp.
“Oh my God.” Bile rises in my throat. Beside me, Levi has gone stock-still.
Tripp doesn't get up.
The bullfighters rush into the arena, distracting Black Thunder and driving him away. I can't take my eyes off Tripp. He's lying on his side, one arm pulled tight against his body.
Levi catches my wrist.
“Marci.”
“I know.” My voice comes out barely louder than a whisper.
The medics run in. One kneels beside Tripp while another checks his head and neck. Tripp tries to shift, but the medic immediately stops him.
“Don't move,” I hear someone say.
My chest feels tight.
“He made it six seconds,” Levi says quietly.
I nod, staring at Tripp. “And then he got hurt.”
Levi's hand is still around my wrist. When I look down, his fingers loosen, but he doesn't pull away completely.
“We'll wait,” he says.
I glance at him.
There's something in his expression that makes me realize he isn't only worried about Tripp. He's worried about me too.
I swallow and turn back toward the arena.
The medics carefully roll Tripp onto the stretcher. He looks impossibly small against the wide expanse of dirt, so different from the powerful cowboy I’d seen just minutes ago.
The cheering has stopped now. The stands are as silent as I’ve ever heard them. There’s not even a whisper of chatter. The whole place is holding its breath.
All I can hear is the distant buzz of the arena lights and Levi's steady breathing beside me.
This is my worst nightmare. Even though it kills me, I let go of his hand.