Chapter Forty-Eight
Royce
Four Months Later
The bucking chute is barely big enough for me, Micah, and a four-year-old with enough excitement to power the entire damn arena.
Ryder doesn’t seem to notice.
He stands between us, staring at the sheep in the chute like it’s the greatest damn thing he’s ever seen. His little cowboy hat is pushed back on his head, his boots planted wide, his eyes shining with the kind of fearless excitement that makes my chest tighten.
“Okay, little man,” Micah says, crouching beside him. “You remember what we talked about?”
Ryder nods solemnly.
“Hold the rope.”
“That’s right.”
I kneel in front of him and demonstrate one more time.
“Wrap your hand around it tight. Thumb over the top. Keep your fingers out from underneath.”
Ryder copies me, his little fingers carefully working around the rope.
“Perfect.”
I point to his other arm.
“And this one stays up. Don’t grab the sheep with it. That’s your balance arm.”
He shoots his arm straight into the air.
I grin.
“Exactly.”
Micah chuckles. “This kid’s got more confidence than half the teenagers we train.”
Ryder looks at him seriously.
“I ride horses.”
“Yeah?”
“I can ride Rowdy.”
I glance toward the bleachers.
Marina is sitting high above the arena with the students who stayed behind after class just to cheer Ryder on.
Her hands are clasped beneath her chin, her eyes locked on her son, and the pride on her face is impossible to miss—even beneath the worry of a mother watching her baby take his first ride.
She looks terrified.
And fucking proud.
For the past four months, she’s been working her ass off to get herself and Rowdy back into peak competition shape while I’ve been working with Ryder.
And today, he gets to show her what he’s learned.
I smile at him.
“I’ve seen you ride, little man.”
We get him settled onto the sheep. I keep one hand on his back while Micah checks the rope.
“Remember,” I tell him, “look where you’re going. Keep your weight centered. When he moves, you move with him.”
Ryder nods.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
I step back.
The chute opens.
The sheep explodes forward.
Ryder’s free arm shoots into the air.
“Hang on!”
The sheep bucks hard.
Ryder bounces but stays centered.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Then he comes off.
He hits the dirt and rolls once.
For one heartbeat, my heart stops.
Then his little boots hit the ground.
He jumps to his feet like nothing happened, rips his hat from his head, tosses it into the dirt, and throws both hands into the air as he spins toward the bleachers.
The crowd erupts.
Everyone jumps to their feet, cheering and whistling as the sound rolls through the arena.
Beside me, Ryder pumps his fist before beating his tiny hand against his chest, his knuckles thudding against the leather of his vest.
He looks every bit like a miniature cowboy celebrating a championship.
“Mommy! Did you see me?”
Marina is already standing.
“I saw you!”
Ryder races to the rails.
“I stayed on!”
“You did!”
He turns toward us, grinning so hard his cheeks look like they might split.
“Again!”
I laugh.
“Again?”
Micah shakes his head.
“This kid is nuts.”
I look at Ryder.
“Okay. We’ll give you another one.”
His face lights up.
We get him back into the chute.
This time, he grips the rope correctly without instruction. Thumb over the top. Fingers underneath. Free arm high.
“Remember what we talked about?”
He nods.
“Look where you’re going.”
“Six seconds!” he bellows.
I grin.
“That’s right.”
The gate opens.
The sheep tears out.
Ryder rides.
The buzzer sounds.
He leaps off, rolls through the dirt, and springs back to his feet.
“Six!”
He screams it like he just won a gold buckle.
I laugh.
“You did it.”
“Again!”
I shake my head, but I give in faster than I should.
“One more.”
He nods.
Then his whole expression changes.
The laughter disappears.
The little man looks at me with absolute determination.
“Give me the rankest one.”
I bite back a chuckle.
“I’m staying on eight this time.”
“Eight?”
He narrows his eyes.
“Eight whole seconds.”
There it is.
That look.
That fire.
I’ve seen it in riders who refuse to quit. In men who climb back on after getting thrown. I’ve seen it in Axle.
I’ve seen it in the mirror.
But seeing it in this little boy makes something in my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.
“All right,” I say, patting his shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
We get him settled again.
The sheep shifts beneath him, but Ryder doesn’t flinch.
I stay beside him as the chute opens.
The sheep shoots forward.
I’m on his heels as Micah rounds the other side.
This one is wild.
Ryder’s free hand shoots into the air as the sheep bucks hard out of the gate. He stays centered through the first jump, then another.
His hat flies off when the sheep snaps into a hard pivot.
The buzzer sounds.
Ryder hangs on.
The sheep twists violently back to the left.
And Ryder comes off.
He hits the dirt, rolls through it, then pops to his feet like nothing happened.
Immediately, he starts celebrating.
The kid is having the time of his life.
“Eight!”
He throws both arms into the air.
“I did eight!”
Pride blooms so damn big in my chest I can barely contain it.
“You sure did, little man.”
He runs straight at me and launches himself at my legs.
I catch him under the arms and swing him up.
“You’re getting pretty damn good at this.”
He giggles.
“I wanna do it again.”
“Not today.”
“Aww.”
“Three rides is plenty. We don’t want to push our luck with your momma.”
He pouts.
I toss him onto my shoulders, and he squeals, grabbing the top of my hat.
“Hold on.”
I straighten and start toward the bleachers.
Marina is already coming down to meet us, relief and pride written all over her face.
“Mommy! I stayed on the whole eight seconds!”
She laughs.
“I saw you, baby!”
I keep walking, Ryder perched across my shoulders, and when I look up at Marina, I can’t stop smiling.
The kid has got fire.
No doubt about it.
She reaches over the railing and takes him from me, settling him on her hip before leaning in and pressing her lips to mine.
Ryder giggles between us.
I pull back and meet Marina’s bright eyes.
“You ready to go home?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
I nod toward the stands behind her, where the students are still sprawled across the benches.
“Just gotta get the animals put away and dismiss these heathens.”
A chorus of groans, laughter, and shouted insults comes from the stands.
I grin.
Marina laughs, glancing over her shoulder at the students before looking back at me.
“We’ll be waiting.”
She turns, Ryder tucked securely against her hip, and starts toward the exit.
I watch them go.
My woman.
Her little boy.
The family I never knew I wanted until they were standing right in front of me.
Five months ago, I was a man who thought he had everything figured out.
I thought I knew what I wanted.
Then Marina Kincade rode back into my life and knocked every damn thing I thought I knew on its ass.
Now I know better.
I know home isn’t a place.
It’s the woman waiting for you.
It’s a little boy yelling your name when you come through after a long day at work.
It’s laughter in the kitchen, boots by the door, and somebody you love warming your bed at night.
It’s knowing exactly where you belong.
I watch Marina and Ryder disappear down the darkened path toward the house.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t wonder what comes next for me.
I already know.
Because there goes my future.