Thirty-Seven | Harlow
It’s been a few days since the event ended in Reno, keeping me in that twenty-first position. If I ride as well as I have been at this last event next weekend, I’m one step closer to my dream and will be one of the top riders competing for that buckle.
When I close my eyes, I can picture that final moment, but whereas it used to be just me under the spotlight, soaking in the flare of celebratory fire piercing the air and cheers of the crowd, another face has started to appear in that dream through the dark—it’s clear and holds my attention more than the goal I’ve been chasing.
Colson is there; his features pulled into a proud expression that tears at my soul in the best way more than the win does.
The most confusing part of it all is the jumbled mess of unfamiliar feelings that are starting to take hold and grow into something I can’t keep up with or understand.
All I’ve ever wanted is to prove myself, and yet, the last few events, I’ve gone into them feeling content with my progress—like if I was tossed off, it wouldn’t be the end of everything because though the ride is eight seconds, the journey isn’t.
When I look back, I can recognize the growth I’ve so clearly made after coming back from an injury that should’ve kept me away from this sport.
I always thought winning was everything, but I can’t help but feel like each day that passes, that isn’t true anymore.
Coming back is a win in itself.
The old Harlow would be cursing at me for taking a few days off to rent a car and explore Lake Tahoe, but I wanted to catch up with Mel, and it’s a destination that’s been on my bucket list.
Plus, I’ve needed the break. Colson said it would be good for me to take a few days to spend with Mel, but I didn’t miss the strain in his tone.
It made me wonder if he needed the reset, too.
Watching him leave the hotel with me behind was more painful than it should’ve been.
I watched him walk away, feeling like something strange was tugging at the tether that’s been connecting us since we stripped down our walls, or more accurately, our clothes.
So much has happened since I started living on Colson’s ranch that I knew Mel deserved an explanation after finding us clinging to each other as if we never were rivals to begin with.
I’ve spilled the entire last few months onto her lap, and she has listened, only making expressions here and there to let me know what she’s thinking.
She licks at her cone, ingesting the huckleberry ice cream as well as everything I’ve told her since I left Arizona.
There may be a chilly early-spring mountain breeze whipping through the trees, but it didn’t stop us from wanting to try the quaint little log cabin-style shop I found with a view of the lake.
Despite the cold air, the sun beats down on us, sparkling across the bright blue waters.
I’ve never considered myself a beach girl.
If I had to choose to spend my life at one or the other, I would choose lake life—like the one Colson took me out on.
It was so peaceful, but I knew it brought him tranquility in a way I don’t understand.
That place is special to him. Though he gave me a piece of what it means to him, I want to hold all of them.
I want to understand him in ways I know he’s holding back from me.
There’s more to why he hated watching me ride, and I can’t help but want to know why.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I feel like I deserve to—considering the hurtful things he said have stuck in my crevices like gum wedged in the bottom of your shoe.
It wouldn’t erase that he said them, but maybe it will help me see a part of him that he keeps so well hidden at the bottom of those turquoise pools I’ve started to get lost in.
And if I’m going to drown, I want to acquaint myself with his messiest parts.
Mel tips her head back, the light reflecting off her sunglasses as she inhales deeply and exhales. “This was such a good idea, but I’m surprised you aren’t itching to get back to Tennessee, being this close to the finals.”
I suppress a laugh. “Yeah, I thought the only two things I’d be doing were training and sleeping.”
She lowers her head from soaking in the sunshine to level with me. “Not sure how much sleeping would’ve gone on.”
I shake my head. She’s not wrong.
She hums. “Weird. It’s like I told you this would happen.”
My eyes roll. She’s waiting with bated breath to hear it, and she’ll keep hanging it over my head if I don’t. “Alright, I’ll say it. You were right.”
She thrusts her cone in my direction. “And don’t you forget it.”
A drop of ice cream lands on my hand, and I lick it off, pondering that.
“Besides us, and Mom and Dad obviously, you’re the only other person who knows why our rivalry started in the first place.
Why were you so positive that I was going to jump into bed with him?
You knew how much I hated him for what he said back then, and you still thought something would happen anyway when I said he was going to be my coach. ”
Melanie shrugs, licking her lips. “I think you guys understand each other in ways other people don’t.
You’re crazy competitive with each other, but there was something magnetic about the way you guys looked at each other.
I think that’s why people have followed along with you two.
Those looks you guys would give each other—” She purses her mouth, puffing out a breath.
“It was hatred.”
“It was electric,” she corrects.
“The entire time I’ve known him, he’s doubted me. Now I don’t know how I feel about him.” I chomp into the waffle cone.
She gives me a look that tells me she’s calling me on my bullshit. I’m right when she bluntly says, “Yes, you do, you’re just too scared to admit it because you’re afraid you’re losing part of your purpose if you forgive him.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are. And as much as I love you and Colson’s rivalry, I love you more. Which is why I need to be honest and say that maybe it’s time to let what he said go.”
Let it go.
I slump back in my seat. “He’s just like so many other people out there, Mel, thinking that I can’t keep up with them just because I don’t have a dick.”
This conversation pulls at my heartstrings, bringing back so many of the reasons I ride.
Her head tilts, regarding me. “I have a hard time believing you’d still be letting him coach you if he said those things to you again that he did all those years ago. This entire time he’s been coaching you, has he told you to quit or go back to the women’s rodeo circuit?”
All our conversations flash by in an instant. “Well, no.”
Melanie finishes her waffle cone and dusts off her hands.
“People are always going to have their opinions, Harlow, and that’s never going to change.
After watching you this long, I don’t think it’s ever been about proving everyone wrong.
It’s been about proving one man wrong because what he said hurt you.
Before the rodeo in Ember Ridge, when you met him, you rode because you loved the thrill of it.
I think your mindset shifted when Colson said those things to you because they were painful to hear.
He was the man you idolized, the rider you looked up to because you wanted to be where he was.
With your rivalry behind you, it’s clear now that everyone else’s opinions have never been the issue—you’re too nervous to let the past go because his disbelief in you became your entire professional identity, and you aren’t sure what riding looks like without that. ”
My stomach flops painfully. Suddenly, I’m not interested in my ice cream anymore. “Damn. Hitting me hard with that one.”
“Am I wrong?”
Her comments hit my heart dead on, leaving a burning sensation behind my eyes.
As much as I want to find an excuse and fight her, I can’t, because maybe she’s right, again.
Scratch that, I know she is because those things Colson said back then are now being written over with something else, and it’s changing the narrative.
Now that I’ve gotten to know Colson deeper than the surface level, it’s clear that we’ve both had demons collecting dust. All these years, attacking each other has been our temporary cleanse—our way of dealing with things because, for some reason, we’re tethered together in a way that the universe wanted.
I’ve never understood it, but maybe we’re still in each other’s lives because confronting things together is the only solution to moving on.
Letting things go.
I’m not sure what riding looks like when I try to leave the girl obsessed with her image behind, along with the rivalry that’s been a constant push since that night in the bar when I punched him, but I want to try.
It’s taken a long time, but I know now that I’m the only one who can set my limits.
Sure, I’m competitive as hell, but I miss riding for me.
Miss that feeling when I could brush the dirt off my chaps and keep going because I wanted to, and not because I felt like I had to prove something.
I’ve already felt how freeing it’s been over the past few months.
How much more could my riding improve if I let go of the string of resentment I still hold deep down for Colson?
Turning toward the ice cream shop behind me, I toss my cone into the air, and it lands in the trash can several feet away against the wall. I rotate back toward Mel with a satisfied grin.
My brows knit together when I see the glare she is giving me. “What?”
“See, you are competitive about everything. You would’ve pouted if you missed that.”
“Okay, that’s an exaggeration. I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are, but I love you for it.”
Getting vulnerable is difficult for me, but I try anyway. “I know I shouldn’t care, but what if I end up losing a part of myself and my professional career when this competitiveness between Colson and me completely fizzles out?”
Bracing her arms on the table, she leans over her forearms, peering into my eyes. “Who said you have to be done being competitive? You and I both know that riders filter in and out of this league all the time, whether it’s injuries, retiring, or fluctuating skill level.”
I nod slowly, reach for the plastic cup of water on the table, and take a sip.
“And you’re Harlow Hartt, your competitiveness is the core of who you are. It’s why you hated dancing, remember? Mom had to drag you to the studio.”
I remember those days. Sometimes I would shove my ballet shoes under the car seat when I thought she was distracted and then search my bag like I couldn’t find them. Eventually, I think my mom caught on, because she would peer at me through the rearview mirror with those warm eyes narrowed.
“I may find a thrill in ballet, but you were never meant to,” Mel says honestly. “You were meant to be out there riding, and the only person who needs to believe that is you.”
My mouth tugs upward into a smile. “You should consider being a therapist instead of a social media manager.”
She wiggles her nose, instantly letting me know what she thinks about that idea.
“Nah, the only reason I can analyze your life is because I’ve been there through all of it.
I’ve seen you at your worst and watched you thrive at your best, and seeing you burst into that room with Colson is the lightest I’ve seen you in a long time.
You deserve to feel like that every day.
” Mel shrugs. “People change. You know you have, and it’s unfair for you to think he hasn’t. ”
My gaze drops to my fingers that usually have some trace of dirt. Picking it out from under my nails is a nervous tactic I picked up a long time ago, but my hands are clean, so I’m forced to look back up at her. “I think he said those things for a reason, but I’m not sure why.”
“Then why don’t you ask him?”
I try to allow the fresh air and view to soothe my anxiety, but there’s something deep and sharp poisoning my gut as I think about what plagues Colson’s past.
I think about Melanie’s question, knowing there’s only one reason I haven’t asked. I think I’m too scared to hear his answer.