Chapter 24 Hestia
HESTIA
Lottie pulled a T-shirt from my case in silence, holding it up before handing it to me.
‘This one okay?’ she asked, her voice wavering as I looked back at her, knowing my eyes were as blank as I felt.
I took it from her outstretched hand, forcing it over my head.
She helped me pull my hair free, smoothing it down without a word as I shifted to watching the one big screen visible from the truck, on the edge of the arena.
It was still the bronc riders competing, being tossed around like rag dolls, the roar of the crowd rumbling through the frame of the truck.
‘Now tell me exactly what he said,’ Lottie said, clearing her throat a little and pushing her own hair back.
I turned to her, my mind still working in slow motion. A smudge of dirt on her cheek remained from when she’d fallen in the dirt for me, for no fucking reason at all.
‘Not a lot,’ I answered quietly, reaching out to wipe it away with my thumb.
She eyed me, watching carefully. ‘That poisonous little bitch was doing her best to distract him.’ Remembering, I felt the first threads of emotion since I’d walked out of the stadium half an hour earlier.
‘He just said, “Don’t go,” but . . .’ I stopped, hardening myself to everything in my gut that threatened to spill up and over.
‘The officials were talking to him. Half the people in the area were watching. I didn’t want to make it worse, so . . . I left.’
Lottie bit her lip, looking up at the screen.
‘There’s no way we’re going to get back by the chutes again,’ she murmured, a calculating expression in her eyes. ‘But there’s something you need to know. Please don’t be angry,’ she began, wincing as I stared. Forcing myself to soften my gaze, I shook my head.
‘Don’t be a dick, Lottie. I can’t ever be angry with you, not really.’
She ventured a small smile.
‘I, um . . . I called Cal last night,’ she started, taking in my surprise. ‘We spoke for a while. Mainly it was him apologizing, regretting everything that happened in the past few weeks. But I also asked him to do something for me. For you, I mean.’
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
‘I asked him to call Jesse, to leave a voicemail and explain, in his words, what he did at your flat. When he pretended you guys were back in a relationship.’
‘Oh, holy fuck,’ I breathed, the potential for Cal making everything so much worse amplified.
Lottie shook her head, grabbing my hands with hers as she smiled.
‘No, Hes. It worked. Cal called me back when it was done, said he’d rambled until the voicemail had cut him off but he’d made sure it was clear nothing was happening between you two. That you deserved a real love, someone who could really return it.’
I swallowed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe Cal would do something like that.
‘Oh . . .’ was all I could manage, not able to compute the dawning happiness in her eyes.
‘But it was the call I got from Jesse early this morning that meant I knew everything would be okay,’ she reassured, as my hands tightened around hers, eyes darting across her face, desperate to read her expression.
‘He said he understood what’d happened, to pass my thanks on to Cal, and .
. . tell you that he’d call straight after the rodeo.
That he was booking tickets to fly to London, leaving tomorrow.
That he can’t live without you. I didn’t want to say anything before, because I thought he’d get a chance to tell you himself, in person.
But . . . well, obviously it didn’t quite turn out like that. ’
I choked then, the sobs rising up more quickly than I could push them back.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said, holding tight as I struggled to gather myself. ‘What just happened, whatever’s going on with Chrissy . . . he wants you, Hes. He’s in love with you – he has been for ages. That doesn’t just go away, no matter what she says or wants.’
I let myself cry then, the relief reducing my body to jelly, leaning against Lottie as she held me.
It took some time to gather myself, to work up to sorting out my face and getting back out.
‘Are you sure you want to watch?’ she asked as we walked slowly back over to the entrance. It was now completely clear, everyone already inside. ‘We could just wait round the back, for when he’s done?’
I swallowed, trying a weak smile.
‘If I’m going to be with a bull rider, I’ve got to get used to this, right?’ I said, brushing off her excitement. I couldn’t quite picture it all yet, despite what she’d told me.
We re-entered, this time picking up a couple of beers as we made our way to the stands. It was clear that finding a seat would be impossible now.
‘You okay to just lean here?’ I said, and she nodded. We had a clear view of both the area itself and one of the screens.
We watched the end of the bronc riding. My pulse was thundering as they finally announced the bull riding, listing out some of the competitors.
‘. . . And from Jackson Hole, Wyoming’s golden boy, right back on the circuit after a year off – it’s Jesse Bennington!’
The camera panned to the chutes. Jesse pinched the brim of his hat as he sat astride one of the gates, the cast on his wrist visible below the cuff of his shirt.
His face was set firm, every inch the Old Hollywood star, as the crowd roared – a very noticeable female contingent screaming from the stand we were in.
Lottie smiled at me, her mouth twitching as I rolled my eyes.
‘His ego is going to be insufferable,’ I said, sipping on my beer but unable to hide my own smile.
‘I don’t think he’ll give a fuck now you’re home,’ she replied over the noise of the next announcement. The first rider was climbing into the bull pen, already struggling as the animal did its level best to smash him against the steel bars.
I shivered, folding my arm round myself, wishing I could go back there again and force Jesse to leave – just pull him right out of there and never look back.
Trying to distract myself, I focused on Lottie’s words: the way she’d said home, even though this was neither hers nor mine. But then, neither was London, technically. And it sure as fuck wasn’t that miserable hole in the Surrey suburbs where I’d grown up with my stepfather.
But this place – Jackson – had begun to feel something like home, even though I was barely more than a tourist. Turning it over and over, it wasn’t until I glanced back up at the big screen as the announcer talked through the upcoming riders in more detail, the camera settling on Jesse one more time, that I suddenly got it.
With a jolt that felt almost physical, I realized it was the people, the connections I’d made, that gave me a sense of being at home here.
That home could simply be people – a person – not necessarily a place, felt like a revelation so huge that when Jesse glanced up into the stands, his eyes tracking across the seats, it took everything I had not to run up to the ledge and jump up and down like a fucking lunatic until he saw me.
I knew then, reaching over to give Lottie a brief but hard hug and kiss her temple, why it felt like more than love for Jesse.
He felt like home.
‘What was that for?’ Lottie smiled, a quizzical expression blooming as the first rider was released out of the gate.
We both winced as he hung on for dear life – but with a particularly evil buck he was unseated, tumbling down into the dirt. The crowd groaned and began to clap as he walked away unscathed, the wranglers in the arena forcing the bull away into its pen.
‘For never giving up on me,’ I replied, all but shouting into her ear over the noise.
‘I’ve always got you,’ she shouted back, her eyes fierce. ‘You’re never alone, Hes. Especially not now.’ She gestured towards Jesse, now visible as he sat on top of the gate.
I fought back more tears as I nodded, focusing on breathing steadily as I realized he was up next.
‘What’s the prize money for this, then? If he does win?’ I asked, my thoughts drifting to his mum and what a difference this could make to her alone.
‘It’s a big one,’ she said, also transfixed by the sight of Jesse in the pen, adjusting his left-handed grip, raising his right hand slowly.
‘If he wins outright, it’s a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
And I wouldn’t be surprised if the sponsors come rolling back in.
Cole told me Ariat and Wrangler have come knocking in previous years, and that’s big money. ’
‘Shit,’ I murmured, feeling a mix of pride in Jesse’s obvious skill and utter terror as the announcer proclaimed his bull to be something of a Livingston Peak legend, known for his vicious temper.
‘Hold my hand,’ Lottie instructed, waiting for me to grip it tightly. ‘It’s just eight seconds, then it’s over.’
We waited, everything else forgotten as the screens zoomed in, the bull fighters in the arena assuming their positions. Then, with a crack, the gate swung open, the crowd roaring in response.
Everything stopped. My body became stone, only my eyes able to move as I watched Jesse – the person I’d crossed half the world for, the man I loved, my home – on the back of something that could kill him.
The bull leapt clear of the ground, the huge digital timer above the arena counting up towards eight.
Each second felt like a lifetime. But Jesse held on, his bound right arm raised just high enough despite the injury, utterly in line with each twist and turn of the bull.
The crowd was screaming, the announcer proclaiming an incredible ride, when the buzzer sounded – and in one smooth motion, Jesse leapt off and landed with perfect ease in the dirt.
I let go of my breath as everyone around us shot to their feet, Lottie yelling with them.
But in the next second, as Jesse turned to grin at the crowd, the bull – still spinning and bucking – turned too.
And as Jesse pivoted to get out of the way, the bull put its head down and slammed him, side on, into the steel barrier.