Chapter 24 #2
Her hazel eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head like she has to think about it.
“I like it. It’s a different lifestyle, but I think it’s full of good people who care about each other.
I couldn’t imagine living on the road, competing in a sport with so much danger, and not being surrounded by these kinds of people. I understand why you love it so much.”
Without hesitation, I grab her elbow, pulling her to the side of the ambulance parked behind the chutes, and kiss her.
Because fuck rule number nine. This woman is mine, and I have to show her that.
I have to find a way to keep her with me even when I’m gone.
Because she doesn’t know it yet, but I’m already gone.
She is gravity, and I’m in free fall, praying like hell she’ll catch me before I hit the ground.
She doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, and that gives me a sense of peace. This isn’t just one-sided—she desires it as much as I do. With one hand on her waist and one cupping her cheek, I tilt her head back further and pull her possessively into me. She opens to me, deepening the kiss.
Someone whistles, causing Jessie to jerk back. The guy who checked her out earlier is laughing, leaning on the fence behind the chutes. “Damn, Bennett. Better be careful, that one looks fragile.”
Jessie’s tiny frame, standing less than five and a half feet, stiffens.
She’s about to lay into him, so I step in. “Yeah, fragile like a bomb. Now fuck off.”
He turns, still laughing.
Jessie relaxes but steps away from me. “Rule number nine,” she mumbles, crossing her arms. Her guard going right back up.
I rub the back of my neck and nod. I don’t want to argue here.
Knox jumps up and down, holding the top rail of the bucking chute.
He’s talking to himself. We all have our own rituals before we climb onto bulls.
Some are calm and sit above their bull before it’s their turn.
Knox prefers to get hyped, get his blood pumping, and tell himself affirmations.
Honestly, if it weren’t for the chaps and spurs, you’d think he was getting ready for an MMA fight.
Personally, I like to joke around and not think about it. Sure, I’ll jump around to get my body warmed up, but when I start thinking, I start overthinking, so I keep things light and try to just have fun.
The guy before Knox is taking his wrap, which is Knox’s cue to get ready. He climbs in the chute and hands me the tail of his bull rope.
“You got this, Knox. Breathe and believe.” He hates that mantra, and that’s why I said it. He glowers up at me, and I smile. What can I say? I’ve missed giving my best friend shit.
I pull his rope up tight so he can warm up the rosin.
The guy before him rides his bull, and the crowd is pumped about it. I’m getting excited thinking about if I were in the chutes right now with an animated crowd like this.
Knox tells me to slack off while the arena crew moves over to his chute.
After everyone gets set, he puts his hand in the handle. I pull out the slack until he takes the tail from me. As he takes his wrap, I offer my last-minute words of wisdom: “Someone has to win. It might as well be you.”
He takes one last deep breath as he slides up to his bull rope and nods.
The bull has a rear like a bucking horse before kicking so hard I have to take a step back so he doesn’t kick me over the top rail of the chutes.
As soon as he moves further out into the arena for his second jump, I step forward and yell, “Go on, Knox! Go on!”
The bull turns back to the right—into Knox’s hand—and Knox is perfectly in the middle of his back.
He rears, and Knox looks like he was made to ride this bull.
He breaks at the hips, pushing on his handle with his riding arm and driving forward on his legs.
As the bull transitions into a kick, Knox rolls his riding shoulder back, shoving his hips to his rope and pulling his knees up, while throwing his free arm over his head.
He rides bulls so perfectly. He makes it look easy, like a dance around a flame. You can’t rip your eyes away. My riding style is closer to jumping a dirt bike through rings of fire. You still can’t look away, but for very different reasons.
“Keep ridin’, keep ridin’,” I yell as the bull makes another round.
With perfect timing, Knox lifts his left leg, spurring the bull for extra points.
He makes two more rounds before the 8-second buzzer sounds and the bullfighters rush in.
They pull the bull out of his spin as Knox yanks the tail of his rope and rotates his hips, letting the momentum throw him away from the bull.
He lands on his feet and jaunts back to the bucking chutes. Just another day at the office.
He climbs up in front of me.
I give him a high five.
“Well?” he asks with a smile.
“That was fucking perfect! Should be about 88 as long as the judges didn’t think you made it look too easy.”
The announcer rides his horse to the middle of the arena. “88.5 points, and did I mention this man now lives in Colorado?”
The roar of the crowd vibrates the bucking chutes.
“Hell yeah, Knox. You’re my freaking hero.”
He shakes his head, laughing at me.
I can’t wait to be back.