Chapter 39
Trey
Fort Madison, Iowa
Iroll my shoulders, feeling the hit I took last night.
I’ve pulled my shit together over the last few weeks and managed to move back into the top twenty in the world, but it hasn’t been without some bumps and bruises.
I just have to keep going. Only the top fifteen qualify for the national finals, and Knox currently sits seventh in the world.
“You’ve been strapping, man. Good work,” Dax Summer says as he sets his gear bag down next to mine. He’s a bull rider around my age and a super nice guy.
“Thanks, man.”
He pauses at my short reply and his brow furrows. He looks at Knox. “What’s his deal? I was expecting a detailed Trey-Bennett-style story about his greatest hits and bull rides of the last month . . . he sick or something?”
“I do not do that,” I defend myself.
“Oh, yeah, you do, but it’s entertaining.” Dax smirks.
Knox’s shoulders shake with laughter as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Not sick. Our boy here just has a bad case of the blues. Living in Brokenheartsville. His dog ran off, truck won’t start, and she ain’t comin’ back.”
“Oh, for the love of—” I start.
Dax cuts me off, “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
I slap my palm on my face and Knox bursts out in laughter. “Dude, he doesn’t. I was painting a picture. Ladies’ man here got his heart broken, and he’s been knee-deep in his own pity puddle ever since.”
“I need a new traveling partner,” I grumble.
“Ah, shit.” Dax huffs. “That sucks, dude. I don’t know what I’d do without Junie.”
Oh, yay. Please tell me about your wonderful wife. I would love to hear how in love and happy you are. Fuck. My. Life.
I stand, taking my bull rope to a nearby gate to get it prepped and ready. They’re team roping, so it’s fairly quiet behind the chutes.
Knox walks by me as he answers the phone, I’m sure it’s one last quick call with Kacey before he rides.
Another happy couple. Yay.
Fuck, maybe I am in a pity puddle.
Knox’s body language catches my eye and pulls my thoughts from my own misery. Something is wrong. He paces back and forth, then rests one hand on top of his hat. He says something to her, then scrubs his hand over his mouth.
He nods once before he hangs up and heads straight for me.
Shit.
Is it Jessie? Did Daryl hurt her? My thoughts race. I drop my rope, leaving it swinging from the panel. “What happened?”
He meets my eyes and I know it’s something bad. “It’s Jessie’s gran.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, man. I know you liked spending time with her. And she liked you a lot.” He says it in past tense. Past tense as in . . . she’s no longer here.
He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying.
“Knox, what are you saying?”
“That was Kacey on the phone. Gran had a heart attack and passed away earlier today.”
No. No fucking way.
She was older, but her health was good. She was so active—baking, sewing, gardening, and going to bingo nights. Neither her or Jessie ever mentioned a serious health problem to me.
Jessie.
“Jessie. How is Jessie?” I rush, the words stumbling together.
“I’m not sure. Kace hung up pretty quickly; I don’t think she wanted to leave her for too long. So, I’m guessing it’s not great. She did say it was sudden, and Jessie wasn’t there when it happened.”
I run for my gear bag, grab my phone, and jog away from the noise of the arena.
I don’t hesitate when I bring up her contact.
I don’t think about the last time we spoke, what she said to me, or why.
Jessie is hurting, and I want to be there for her, but I’m a thousand miles away—literally and figuratively.
It doesn’t ring. I’m sent straight to voicemail. “Fuck!” I yell and call her again. Voicemail, again.
I squat and rub my burning eyes. Dot is gone. I can’t even imagine what Jessie is feeling. They were so close. It’s not fair—not to her, not to Jessie—but life rarely is. It steals the people we love with no warning, no mercy, and leaves us with the ache of what’s missing.
“Watch out for my girl, will you? I worry about her,” Dot whispers in my ear as she hugs me goodbye. I just met the woman, but I can already tell she’s one of the good ones. She’s where Jessie gets her spark of life—her kindness and magnetic energy.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” I promise her.
The memory crashes into me. I promised her.
I promised Dot I’d be there for Jessie, and now I can’t.
I’m here. I wish I could be her crash landing pad, hold her, comfort her.
I wish I would’ve fought harder, called her on her bullshit.
I could be buying a flight right now and be there tomorrow, but that’s not our reality.
I hear boots crunch on gravel before Knox sits next to me, leaning on the gate. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
I clear my throat and sit down next to him.
“No, I want to talk to her.” A single tear slips out, trailing down my cheek before I swipe it away.
“Her phone goes straight to voicemail. I miss her so fucking much, and now this happens? I should be there. I should be booking a flight right now, but I fucked up, and she pushed me away—literally told me to get the fuck out. And I don’t know how to fix it.
She didn’t mean it. I could see it in her eyes.
She was panicked and hurting. Now Dot is gone.
She was Jessie’s everything, Knox. This isn’t just going to be hard for her; it’s going to feel impossible.
I think in Jessie’s mind, Dot was the only family she had.
She’s wrong—she has the Harts, Carson, and now us—but I don’t think she understands that. ”
“I’m not going to say you’re wrong. Kacey has mentioned more than once she feels like Jessie never really lets someone see her. Only the picture she wants them to see. Not in a fake way, more of a protective way, like she’s afraid.”
“I think she let me see it, at least a little bit. I think that’s why she panicked when I pushed for more.” I rub my temple. “Fuck, all I want to do is buy a flight and get there as quickly as I can.”
“Do you think she’d let you? Be there for her, I mean.”
I stare at my boots. Would she? I’m not sure. I don’t believe the things she said to me were true, but there have been moments since that day when I doubt myself and what I thought we had. “I honestly don’t know.”
Knox squeezes my shoulder before standing. I hear them announcing Emily in the barrel racing. “You want me to tell them you’re turning out?”
I shake my head. Even with regret and grief swallowing me whole, I say, “No. I’ll get on, let’s go.” I stand and take a deep breath. “Dot would kick my ass if I turned out on her account.”
Knox huffs a laugh. “You’re right. Go strap this motherfucker. For Dot.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m 90 points.
For Dot.