Chapter 3 Trey
Trey
Knox
Come up to the house.
Trey
Food ready?
Knox
Sure.
Trey
Sure? What does that mean?
Knox
Just come up here.
If I’m getting out of this camper, there better be food, or I’ll be pissed.
Climbing in and out of the camper is a little difficult and slightly painful these days.
But twisting, stairs, and sitting are all painful right now.
Lying in bed, doomscrolling, or playing Xbox are the only activities that don’t make me wince in pain.
79 points. I was 79 freaking points—which was generous—on a junk bull to win zero dollars.
Instead, I won one MRI and two sizeable bills from a spine specialist. Two herniated disks later, I’m out for a minimum of eight weeks—probably longer—and I’m salty about it.
If I’m going to get hurt, it could at least be on a bucker to win some money.
I’m not hurting for money, but it still irks a guy to get hurt on a bull that the rodeo company never should’ve brought to such a large event.
I make my way out of the camper and up to Knox and Kacey’s house, careful to take the few stairs gingerly.
Nerve pain is a son of a bitch. It’s never the same for two people, and steroids only help so much.
The burning sensation that shoots down my back and into my thighs makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
It’s only been a few days, and the steroids seem to help a little each day, but certain movements or sitting for long periods almost do me in. There is no way I could ride right now.
“Hey, girl.” I greet Kacey’s dog, Rein, paying my pet tax before opening the front door with a squeak.
“Do you feel good about making a cripple walk all the way up here without a promise of food?” I joke as I make my way across the open living space to the kitchen. I can smell the food already.
“Why would you think there’s no food? We feed you every night.” Kacey turns to me with a frown.
“And morning,” Knox grumbles.
“The way Knox summoned me, it felt more like being called to the principal’s office than dinner.” I pull out a barstool at the island, trying to figure out the best way to sit without wanting to die.
Knox shifts in his seat and runs his fingers through his wavy brown hair. “Stop being so dramatic. We need to talk.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I gasp.
Kacey laughs from across the kitchen, clearly not as uncomfortable as her boyfriend right now.
What the hell is going on?
“No one is breaking up, but I do have a plan.” Kacey smiles conspiratorially. “And it’s perfect for everyone; you get a place to live, she gets rent money, and we get our driveway back. Plus, you’ll have to move somewhere when Knox leaves for rodeos anyway.” Kacey rambles on.
Perfect for who? Who gets rent money? Move where?
I’m missing something. I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“I found you a place to live while you recover, maybe even longer, if you don’t kill each other.”
Kill each other?
Oh shit. Jessie.
My stomach drops, and just like that, I’m no longer hungry.
My living situation since Knox and I moved out to Colorado last fall hasn’t been ideal.
I’ve been bouncing between the camper, their guest bedroom, and occasionally the bunkhouse when it’s too cold out.
But that was temporary. I was always planning to find my own place close by, but it’s only been a few months, and I’m gone so much it didn’t seem like a big deal.
I knew I’d need to go somewhere when Knox left for the summer run without me, but that’s not for several weeks, and I never dreamed it would mean moving in with her. There is no way she agreed to this; she barely tolerates me.
“You can move in with Jessie. Tomorrow. She has an extra bedroom, and she’s hardly ever home because she works so much. Plus, there are no stairs, so it’ll be easier on your back than climbing in and out of the camper. It’s perfect.” Kacey claps.
“Perfect” is the last word I’d use to describe this situation. Sure, I’ve been trying to get Jessie into my bed for almost a year, but at this point, I think the only reason she’d get into my bed would be to smother me with a pillow.
“And she agreed to this?”
“For a price,” Knox mumbles under his breath.
Kacey gives him a glare. “Yes, she has, and she’s expecting you tomorrow.
She said you can Venmo her the rent money.
” She senses my hesitation. “We’re worried about you, Trey.
Getting in and out of the camper is hard, and Knox is going to need it soon, anyway.
We think it would be good if you had a place to settle down for a bit while you heal. ”
The worry in Kacey’s eyes shoots straight into my heart.
I always make light of things to cover the real issues or worries in my life, but sometimes I swear she can see straight through me.
As I meet her gaze, I feel like a burden.
I should’ve found my own place months ago.
I put it off because I’ve never lived alone, and it sounds, well . . . lonely.
Before I lived with Knox, I lived in a house with three other bull riders.
Before that, with my parents. I’m a people person; I like having someone around to talk to and do things with.
Since Knox and I moved here, I’m always in the bunkhouse with the ranch foreman Chet and the ranch hands—usually kicking their asses in poker.
I’m not sure what I’d do in an empty house by myself.
I glance at Knox, trying to gauge his thoughts.
He knows I’m teetering on the edge of obsession when it comes to Jessie.
How could I not be? She’s a smokeshow, and I love verbally sparring with her.
She’s quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and I admire she isn’t scared to go for the throat.
But she’s shut me down at every turn, clearly disinterested in giving me a shot at anything more than my role as Knox’s best friend.
“I’m not going to say this is a good idea, but I do think it’s your best option,” he finally says.
“But you have to behave. And I mean it, Trey. I know you like her, and you two have some weird battle of wills going on, but you’re going to be roommates, so don’t make it messy.
It’s only a few months. Just do whatever she says. ”
They seriously want me to move in with Jessie Hawkins.
Knox is right, this is a horrible idea. I drum my fingers on the counter, glancing between them.
Fuck it, a lot of horrible ideas have worked out for me in the past. “We’ll be fine.
I’m pretty sure she could tell me to go to hell, and I’d look forward to the trip. ”
Knox groans. “That’s precisely my worry.”
Kacey chuckles and pulls out her phone. “Great, I’ll text her.”
“What’s her Venmo? How much is the rent?”
Kacey mumbles a reply too low for me to hear.
“Huh?”
“Fifteen,” she squeaks.
“She only wants fifteen bucks?”
“Fifteen hundred a month,” Knox corrects me with a smirk.
“Fifteen hundred for a room? I could get a whole house for that,” I exclaim.
“You can afford it. Look at it as backpay on all the rent you never paid me.”
He’s right, I can afford it, but that price is still insane for a single room. The reason I have so much money in the bank is because I hardly spend any of it. My expenses have always been low and I’m not one to blow money.
I roll my eyes. “Your house was paid for.”
“Do you want me to tell her no?” Kacey’s fingers hover over her phone screen.
I sigh. It won’t break me. Maybe she needs the money. It can’t be easy owning her home and living alone. “No, it’s fine. I’ll send her the first two months tonight.”
And just like that, Jessie Hawkins and I are roommates. But why do I feel like it’s against our will?
The GPS on my phone tells me I’ve arrived as I pull into the driveway. I park behind Jessie’s SUV that’s seen better days. I wonder about the last time she changed the oil.
The house is older and small. It’s plain with white paint, no front porch or awning—just a brown roof and two sad-looking bushes out front. She’ll need to mow the spring grass coming up soon. If my damn back would stop hurting so bad, I’d mow it for her.
I knock on the front door, but there’s no answer.
After knocking again and waiting several minutes, I walk around to the back door.
As I round the corner of the house, I hear music and singing.
Bad singing. I stop in my tracks, listening, smiling at the fact Jessie can be so beautiful but sound like a dying goat.
And I can’t wait to tell her.
The music pauses when I knock loudly on the back door, making sure I’m heard over the music.
When she pulls the door open, her scowl meets my cheeky grin.
“Hey, roomie.”
“Trey.” She wipes the look off her face, clearly trying to be civil. “Come on in. I’ll show you your room.”
Alright, no small talk, getting straight down to business.
I take her in as she moves to the side, opening the door for me.
She’s as captivating as always. The sun catches in her hazel eyes, making the blue pop around the deep green and caramel colors that are normally both more prominent.
There is a wild kind of beauty to Jessie with the freckles on the bridge of her nose, which has a slight upturn to it, and her wild, deep red waves.
She’s wearing gold chains on her neck and rings on several fingers, just like always.
There isn’t an ounce of makeup on her face today, and it’s my favorite way I’ve ever seen her.
The back door leads into a small kitchen. Dated white cabinets frame the back wall in an L shape and a small dining table is situated on the other side of the peninsula. The tile on the floor is a horrible mint green, but I make a mental note not to tell her that, in case it’s something she likes.
“When did you buy the house?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“A few years ago. It’s a fixer upper but I haven’t had time to fix anything. I had big plans but . . .” she trails off, pulling at a few strands of her hair.
I can tell she’s uncomfortable and wonder if it’s because I’m here or if she's worried about what I’ll think of her house. I feel bad; I’m sure it’s hard handling it all on her own.
“I like it. Fixer-uppers are great, you can make it your own that way.” My words release some tension in her body. “I could help if you want. I’m pretty handy—”
“No. Thank you. I don’t need any help, and you’re hurt.” Her tone is firm. It’s clear she doesn’t want help. That, or she isn’t used to getting any. I can’t tell which.
As she shows me around the house, it’s clear it indeed needs a lot of work.
It’s spotless and tidy, but it looks like it’s straight out of the sixties and nearly falling apart.
Several cabinet doors are loose, the base trim is coming off in places, kitchen tiles are cracked, and she said the dryer is broken.
I can’t help but imagine what the space would look like remodeled.
She has mismatched furniture, minimal decor, and a few photos of her with Kacey and an older woman I assume is her grandma.
“Bathroom is through there, and your room is here.” She opens a door leading to a small room with a full-size bed and a single nightstand. “It’s small, so if you need more space to store things, just let me know.”
“Small works. I don’t have much.” I can fit my entire life into the bed of a pickup. I always imagined I’d have more at the age of twenty-eight, but here we are. Jessie might be uncomfortable about her house, but at least she has one.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve unloaded all my meager belongings but my dust-covered gear bag containing my bull rope, chaps, vest, and helmet.
I knew moving would be hard on my back. Knox offered to help, but I wanted to show up on my own.
Get the lay of the land with Jessie. So, I gritted my teeth and hauled my belongings inside.
I wince as I carry my gear bag in the back door with me, back and legs on fire.
Jessie is sitting at the table eating a fruit salad.
“Hey, is there somewhere I can keep my gear bag? I don’t want to leave it in my truck.”
“There’s room in the closet by the front door.”
When I pull the handle to open the closet, it falls off in my hand.
That’s it. I’m making a list and fixing a few things around here.