Forty-Six | Harlow
My cheeks are damp—that sticky, wet feeling after you’ve been crying for hours and can’t seem to stop, even when your eyes are dry and won’t release any more tears.
I’m exhausted, my body tired and sore from my ride, but every time I close my eyes, flashes of that video assault me like the sweetest form of torture that has ruined everything I have worked so damn hard for.
That has ruined everything he has worked for.
But when my eyes are open, my family, staring at me from the booth we are sitting in, with worried looks, isn’t any better.
Melanie obviously knew about Colson and my physical relationship, but my parents were clueless.
Clueless until they got an eyeful of their daughter being shoved up against a hotel room door with her rival’s tongue down her throat as he muttered filthy things into her ear that weren’t quiet enough for the phone’s microphone to miss.
Colson and I were so close to the finish, and now here we are, disqualified from riding the rest of the season because our lies caught up with us.
I’d say that I hate Jax for posting that video on Instagram, but in all honesty, I hate myself more for hiding everything the way we did, because I wanted to.
John was right; we should’ve come forward about it.
I should’ve gotten my head out of my ass long enough to consider the consequences if it came out … well, in the way it did.
As soon as I bolted out of the suite at the arena, leaving John and Colson behind, I grabbed my things out of the locker room.
The decision to disqualify us was already made, and there was no convincing our commissioner otherwise.
I feel bad that I left Colson without another word, but I’m sure he needed a breather as much as I did, considering he had more to lose than me since that flawless, elite ride pushed him to be tied for first with Jax.
Not to mention, his family and mine were sitting in the first few rows. They became aware of the situation when the crowd started whispering and showing their phones to the people sitting next to them, which is when Mel pulled out her phone to see all the things I was tagged in.
The video was posted an hour before Brian and Dalton showed it to me, but it started as a spark that blew up into a raging wildfire that is still getting traction.
I have no doubt that Jax strategically posted that video to screw with us. He must have posted it right after our earlier meeting, when he caught Colson and me whispering to each other.
After John found me behind the chutes, we waited for Colson to get off the dirt.
All I wanted to do was find Jax and kick him in the ass with my pointed-toe cowgirl boots to rip him a new one.
I had to hold myself back from doing so when we passed him, leaning against the wall in the hallway near the suite, with that vexing tilt to his lips.
Asshole.
After I grabbed my things, I changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt I keep in my bag.
I put up my hood, struggling to find my family amongst the crowd.
Some fans and riders were still lingering, mostly those who wanted to witness the aftermath.
I kept my head down, walking swiftly until the stuffy arena shifted into fresh air that did nothing to calm my distress.
My mom, dad, and Melanie were silent the entire car ride.
I thought they were taking me back to my hotel, but then we pulled into a brewery parking lot.
I didn’t realize how much I needed a drink until we walked inside.
I’m on my second, and it’s churning in my belly like acid.
I’m not sure what I need or what can help with this situation I’ve found myself in now, but it’s not beer.
Regret blooms in my gut, knowing that I didn’t try to find Colson and talk to him after. I wonder if one look at those turquoise eyes would be able to chill the hurt and shame bubbling under my skin.
I pick up my glass, moving my wrist to slosh the liquid up the sides of the glass.
“You’ll get ’em next season.” My dad claps my shoulder from where he is sitting next to me. “You’ve always been our child who bounces back within the same second you’ve been knocked down. You don’t even bother to wipe off the dirt; you wear it like war paint and hit back harder.”
“Hey,” Mel whines, placing her phone flat on the table. I’m sure she’s been keeping up with the buzz of our video.
The thought of scrolling at a time like this makes my head spin, which is why my phone is powered off in my pocket.
Not because I’m worried about what I’ll find, but because somewhere over the last few months, I’ve stopped caring about the front.
The mask I put up to make myself seem like the untouchable female bull rider that had something to prove.
It’s been freeing to ride for me, and only me, and in return, I’ve broken through that barrier that kept me stagnant and unable to perform in all the ways I always knew I could.
Arrogance kept me steady. It was blinding.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom says to Melanie. “You are the one who recovers gracefully.”
Mel twists her lips to the side and glances at me. “They aren’t wrong. If anyone knows how to come back after a setback quickly, it’s you.”
More tears pour from my eyes now, and I drop my head into my hands, my tears soaking into my sweatshirt sleeves.
“Oh, honey.” My dad’s rough hand reaches out to rub soothing circles on my back. “This will pass. I know it’s hard right now, but if you keep riding as you have been, you’ll still have plenty of years in the Pbr.”
I wipe under my eyes with my sleeves and sit up. “That’s not why I’m crying.”
“It’s not?” Mom’s confused tone is accompanied by her groomed brows knitting together.
I shake my head, sniffling. “Even if I had gotten a score tomorrow in round two and made it to the championship round this weekend, it still wouldn’t have mattered going into finals.
But Colson—Colson has been so close to a third win, and I ruined that for him.
Because of me, he’s done, and he’s already nearing the end of his career.
” I point to my chest, everything rushing out of me like a rogue wave I can’t control.
“I fucked it up for him because I was the one who wanted to keep him coaching me a secret. He’s been through so much, and I just wasted all his time and ruined the possibility of him winning another buckle.
” My eyes swell with more tears. “Aaron would be so disappointed in me.”
“Don’t say that,” Dad says, using his deep tone that hints at how serious he is.
“He is probably looking down at you, smiling at how far you have come.” I try to believe him.
“Doors open and close all the time, but if you run face-first into one, are you going to choose to stare at it or find another one?”
I ponder his words. “I’d find another one.”
“And you did,” he says confidently. “Just six months ago, you thought you weren’t going to make it back into the Pbr, and then that rookie got hurt and a slot opened up for you.
Then Aaron passed, and you could’ve let that destroy your season, but Colson offered to coach you, and you chose to put your animosity aside, despite your past with him, because you knew you had nothing else to lose.
You weren’t supposed to be sitting here, and here you are, riding better than you were before. ”
I nod slowly. “I’ve grown a lot. Some of the things that mattered to me don’t matter anymore, and I’ve been riding better because of it.”
He reaches out, swiping a tear off my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb in a fatherly way that makes my heart clench.
“Maybe this season wasn’t about getting to the finals.
Maybe it was about the growth you didn’t even know you needed—so that the next time you have this opportunity, you’ve built the grit you need, and you’re ready. ”
I sink against his shoulder, smiling through the overwhelming emotion. “Thanks, Dad.”
“So, what’s the next step?” Mom softly grins.
“I—I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I think I need to find Colson and apologize since I’m the reason we got disqualified.
There are so many things I want to say to him.
” Like the fact that ever since I’ve moved in with him, he has owned a part of my heart.
That this hollow feeling carving deep into my chest isn’t the fact that I’ve lost the rest of my season, but that it’s the thought of possibly losing him.
I chew on my bottom lip, nipping a little too hard when Melanie sucks in a rapid breath, and her gaze snaps to mine. “You may not have to apologize.”
My heart stutters. “What do you mean?”
Mel thinks for a moment before she says, “You know how I have access to your email, and it’s how I got into your room and surprised you when you and Colson were about to—” She snaps her mouth shut, both of us going still at the way my parents eye us inquisitively.
“Anyway.” She clears her throat. “You have an email from John Barrett, the commissioner, in your inbox.”
She slides her phone across the table to me, and I grab it, my eyes eagerly reading each line of the email before they widen. My heart bursts in my chest.
“What is it?” Mom purses her mouth in concern.
I swallow. “John said he’s reconsidered. He’s letting us finish the rest of the season.”