Reining in Never (Bad Luck Cowboys #1)

Prologue

Better As a Memory - Kenny Chesney

Wyatt

T he October rain pounded down, soaking through my lined Carhartt jacket, as Finn and I struggled to repair the broken fence. My fingers were numb, the wire cutters slipping in my grasp as I tried to twist the rusted barbed wire back into place. It was a losing battle, just like everything else on this godforsaken farm.

“This is useless,” I muttered, throwing down the cutters in frustration. “The posts are rotten. We need to replace the whole damn thing.”

Finn wiped the rain from his eyes, his expression grim. “Your old man’s really let things go.”

I snorted. “That’s an understatement. He’s been too busy drowning himself in whiskey to give a damn about what’s left of our cattle or the land.”

We’d been out here for hours, trying to patch up the neglected fences, but it was like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. The farm was falling apart, and my father seemed content to watch it crumble.

Finn dropped the tools he’d been holding. “Come on, let’s go talk to him. Maybe we can knock some sense into him.”

I shoved open the door to the old house, the scent of stale beer and regret filling my senses. My father lay sprawled on the couch, holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the flickering television screen.

“We need new fence posts, Dad.” My voice was tight. “And we need to buy hay soon.”

He didn’t even turn his head. “Nope. No need.”

“What are you talking about?” I forced out the words between clenched teeth.

He finally turned, his bloodshot eyes fixing on me in a drunken haze. “I sold it. I sold it all.”

My blood ran cold. “Sold what?”

“The farm,” he slurred, a twisted smile playing on his lips. “I’m done. Richie’s buying the whole damn thing.”

The name hit me like a punch to the gut.

Richie Marcano was the loan shark my father had kept himself indebted to for years. The same man who’d had his thugs beat me to a pulp the last time my dad couldn’t pay what he owed.

“You can’t sell the farm,” I protested, my voice rising in disbelief. “Especially to that monster.”

“I can, and I did,” he countered, his hand groping for a can of beer on the coffee table. “Go back to your rodeo. Hell, maybe I’ll go back to the rodeo. Free myself of this shithole. Those were the days.” He laughed—a hollow, broken sound.

“You son of a bitch.” I lunged at him, driven by a surge of anger and betrayal. My hand clamped onto the front of his shirt to pull him off the couch, and my fist drew back, aiming for his smug, drunken face.

“Wyatt!” Finn’s voice cut through my rage as he pulled me back, his grip firm on my arm.

My father, caught off guard, scrambled clumsily to his feet, his eyes wide with shock. “Get out.” His voice was surprisingly sober for once.

“You really think you can make me leave, old man?” I towered over him, the advantage of height and sobriety on my side.

His gaze shifted to Finn, standing behind me, a silent plea in his eyes.

“You should leave.” I told him. “You do nothing for this place.”

“Wyatt.” Finn’s voice tone was warning.

“Richie’s getting the paperwork ready. These fingers”—my father held up his trembling hands—“are signing it, and there’s not one damn thing you can do about it.”

My fists clenched and unclenched at my side, the urge to strike wrestling with the restraint Finn had on me.

“Wyatt, let’s go.” Finn’s voice was calm but firm.

“Listen to him, son. Say goodbye to this place because you’re never seeing it again,” my father taunted, a cold finality in his tone.

We walked back out into the rain, loaded our horses and my meager belongings into my truck, and drove away. I was leaving behind the only home I’d ever known, the only place that had ever felt like mine. A place that should ’ve been mine.

***

I entered the rodeo barn that would be home for the next week, tired after the long drive.

A blonde blur came barreling towards me.

Kinsley.

She launched herself into my arms, her laughter ringing in my ears as I caught her and breathed in her hair’s sweet scent. My hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against me as my mouth sought hers with a desperate urgency.

The moment our mouths met, the world fell away. Her lips were soft and pliant beneath mine, parting with a sigh that sent a shiver down my spine. I drank her in like a man starved, my tongue delving deep and tasting her sweetness. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer, and I groaned into the kiss, the heat of her body seeping into my soul.

I needed her now more than ever.

I lost myself in the slide of her lips, the brush of her tongue, and the way she molded herself to me like we were two halves of a whole. In that stolen slice of time, there was only her.

But even as I savoured her presence, the ghosts of my father’s betrayal and losing our farm haunted me like a cold shadow that not even Kinsley’s light could fully chase away.

It all came rushing back: the tiredness, my bones aching with a weariness that went beyond the physical, and the strain of mustering a smile—even for her—felt like an impossible task.

Kinsley pulled back, oblivious, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wyatt, I’ve got the most amazing news! I’ve been talking to my dad, and he’s willing to sponsor us both to go down to the States and hit the big circuits. Can you imagine? We could really make a name for ourselves!”

I paused, trying to process what she’d just told me.

Sponsorships. Her dad’s money. Another reminder of everything I didn’t have, everything I could never give her.

“I can’t, Kins.” My voice cracked under the weight of my emotions. “I can’t take your dad’s money. Especially not now, after everything that—”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about, Wyatt? What happened?”

I shook my head. “I’ve lost the farm, Kinsley. My dad sold it to pay off his debts. I’ve got nothing left.”

Shock and concern filled her eyes. “Oh, Wyatt, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. But this sponsorship could be a fresh start for us. A chance to build something new together.”

I stepped back, my walls slamming up and shutting her out. “Don’t you get it? I’ve lost everything, Kinsley. The farm, my family’s legacy, and my goddamn self-respect. Now you want me to, what? Be your kept man? Ride on your daddy’s coattails?”

Hurt flashed across her face, but I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, my pain and pride blinding me to what she was offering.

“I won’t have it, Kinsley. If I’m going to make something of myself, I need to do it on my own. I won’t be your charity case.”

“That’s not what this is,” Kinsley argued, her face reddening. “I’m trying to help you, to support you. We could be together and build our careers together. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t need your help,” I said. “I can do this on my own. I don’t want to be known as the guy who only got a sponsorship because he was dating Cal Jackson’s daughter.”

“God, Wyatt, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, it is Kinsley,” I challenged, my voice rising. “I don’t understand why you can’t fucking see that.”

“And I don’t understand why you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time!”

“No, you clearly don’t understand.”

“Fine.” Her voice went cold. “If that’s how you feel, then we’re done. I’ve really had enough of this. I’m done trying to help you, Wyatt. I’m done with all of this.” She turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I let her go, watching the best thing in my life slip through my fingers.

A part of me wanted to call out to her, to apologize and take it all back. But the words wouldn't come. Not this time. Every time we had this fight, it felt like getting slammed into the rails, the air knocked out of me. And right now, I was already spitting blood. My dad, the farm, this fight—it was all too much. I was too goddamn tired to even breathe, let alone chase after her and pretend I could fix a damn thing.

The ache in my chest grew—a hollow, gnawing emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.

In a single day, I’d lost everything that had ever mattered to me. My home, my family, and now the love of my life. As I stood there, surrounded by the din of the rodeo, I’d never felt more alone. More broken.

It was the worst day of my life, and I had no one to blame but myself.