Forty-Seven | Harlow
Distress snakes through my body, tightening my bones together in a way that makes me worried that they will snap. I stand in the line of riders for the introduction of night two for the event in Albuquerque, waiting to catch a glimpse of the one rider who will put me at ease.
Colson missing the meeting before the event was one thing, but this … this is unlike him to be this late.
Throughout the entire meeting, I had my earbuds blaring music, like my playlist that usually pumps me up for a ride, would counteract the anxiousness seizing my muscles. I didn’t hear a word anyone said. I just leaned against the wall, closing my eyes to try and push down the nauseous feeling.
I should be focusing on my upcoming ride with the bull I drew, Black Magic, but my phone is burning a hole in the back pocket of my jeans, knowing that my last several texts to Colson—asking where he is and if he has been running late—have been delivered but not answered.
He didn’t answer my texts or calls last night, either, about John letting us finish the season.
The line starts moving out into the arena, and I force a smile as I strut out into the dark space, aglow with flames, fireworks, and flashing lights. Every time Jax is in my line of sight, I have to keep my lip from curling in disgust.
It makes me wonder what kind of doors he’ll slam face-first into before he learns that carrying himself like a smug asshole isn’t a power, it’s dangerous.
I force myself to slow my steps, the flames across the dirt burning hot against my skin. There are thousands of people staring at me from the stands as they scream and holler in excitement, but it’s not the masses that have my arm hairs raising or goosebumps peppering my flesh.
I feel him. I somehow know he is out there.
I scan the first few rows as I pace across the dirt floor, searching for the one person who is an imposter among them—the man who should be riding with me tonight and not spectating.
My eyes clash with Colson’s, our gazes holding steady as everything else around me fades and blurs into nothingness.
My breath whooshes from my lungs as I slowly blink, like I’m trying to convince myself I’m wrong and he’s not, in fact, in the front row with his parents clapping along with everyone around him.
Clarity settles into my bones as he gives me a genuine smile, like he’s perfectly content where he is. In the stands.
Nooo.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; he’s supposed to be behind the chutes with me.
He’s supposed to be competing against me.
Colson’s attention stays locked on me, and I fight the urge to leave the line and run to him to ask him what the hell he’s doing.
My blood rushes into my ears, the pulsing in my body loud and obnoxious as we finish with the intro and make our way back to the space behind the chutes, forcing me to take my eyes off him.
Quickly, I try to locate Matt, knowing that at any moment, he will be out on the dirt for the remainder of the event.
He’s Colson’s best friend; he has to know something I don’t.
He must know why Colson isn’t riding tonight, even though John told us in his email that he reconsidered.
I’ve been so out of it today that, even when I got to the arena, I’ve barely talked to anyone.
Then time went on, and I kept wondering why Colson hadn’t shown up.
I should’ve thought about finding Matt earlier.
I scan the area, my eyes landing on the matching yellow-and-black bullfighter jerseys they wear. Hastening my steps, I watch him start to walk out the open gate into the arena with his back toward me.
“Matt,” I yell, hoping he’ll hear me over the obnoxious noise, but I immediately grunt when an arm whips out and hits me in the chest to stop me.
“Harlow, you know you can’t go out there,” an authoritative tone tells me. “We’re starting.” I glance up at the older man, who’s a part of the chute crew, his lips set in a firm line under his salt-and-pepper mustache.
“I just really need to talk to Matt quickly. Please—”
“No can do, sweetheart. Turn around and go get ready, you’re up soon.”
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I do as he says, marching back to get my bull rope and start my pre-ride regimen, like I always do.
Distraction carves into my mentality.
Ride after ride, I get closer to my turn until I’m waiting below the platform to be called for my ride.
I’m inhaling deep breaths, my boot tapping in the dirt because I am so anxious that I can’t contain it—it’s overflowing out of my body through my feet.
My head is down, my mind racing as a shoulder slams into mine with a force that has me stumbling.
When I catch my balance, I glance up, my jaw tensing in annoyance when my gaze lands on Jax. I ball my fist at my side that’s not gripping my helmet. He’s got his helmet guard clenched in his fist, his bull rope slung over one shoulder.
He eyes me up and down smugly. “I was hoping John would disqualify you both after I posted that video. But I guess you weren’t just Colson’s student and fuckbuddy if he quit so you could ride.”
My stomach drops. Fucking falls to my feet with a force that nearly has me hunching over.
My mouth flops open as what he said registers through my perplexed state. “What are you talking about?”
“Judging by your face right now, I’m guessing you didn’t know. Whatever, he was the one I was neck and neck with. With so little season left, at least you won’t be able to catch up to me.”
Fuck this guy. There’s so much I want to say, but instead, I tighten my fingers around my helmet and bite my tongue, giving him a smile.
When I don’t say anything, he smirks, knowing damn well the weight of his final parting words. “Break a leg out there, Harlow.”
All this time, I thought I was losing a rival … Looks like Jax is stepping up to take Colson’s place.
Sucks for him that I’m only riding for me now. I’ll just get to kick his ass in the process.
When he starts to turn away from me, I can’t help myself and shift my helmet to hang off my pinkie finger. “Hey, Jax,” I call. He turns around, an interested look pulling at his features. Lifting both hands, I raise my middle fingers.
He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he stomps off toward the back.
Blowing out a breath, I turn around, and it’s not long before I’m adjusting my glove as I stand on the platform while the crew works around me.
“Give it all you got,” a middle-aged man says.
Staring at the dark bull in the chute whose hide almost appears navy blue under the arena lights, I place my helmet on my head. The movement is drawing more attention to the way my heart is actively tearing inside my chest.
I stay rooted, everything around me slowing until all I hear is my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. It mutes the crew’s voices as they yell at me to get on the bull.
One side of my heart is reaching for Black Magic, trying to grasp onto this ride like it’s the next defining thing in my life, but honestly, in this moment, I’m not sure it is. Because the other half of my heart is reaching for the man in the stands.
I start backing away from the chute. It’s not nerves. Instead, it’s a feeling I’ve had for a while, but haven’t wanted to acknowledge.
Our lifetime is made up of a series of moments. A sequence of decisions. A collision of feelings that change and morph as we ride through an unpredictably beautiful and messy life.
“Harlow, you’re wasting time. If you don’t hurry up, this will be a disqualified ride, and you’ll get a score of zero,” one of the chute staff barks.
Colson was right in his interview with Kickin’ Up Dust before the season started. I got lucky that Lucas Abbot dropped out.
If I walk away from this, it doesn’t mean I have to stop working or chasing my goal—because I love this sport.
It’s a part of me in ways I’ll never shake.
More importantly, I’m hopelessly and recklessly in love with the man I once thought provoked me in the worst way, only to awaken the part of me I’d lost.
I don’t have anything to prove.
Not to my competitors.
Not to the spectators.
Not to the girls watching me who hope to be in my place one day.
Because what’s louder than being here on the back of this bull is righting my wrongs and coming back stronger.
The old Harlow would’ve gotten on Black Magic and ridden anyway, but I back away from the chute, knowing I’ve changed.
I remove my helmet. “Then I’ll get a zero. I have something more important I need to prove.”
Turning, I ignore the frustrated and concerned looks that flash my way as I bolt down the platform stairs toward the back, where the space is open with the bull pens.
Staff members, media, and riders are everywhere, some of them looking at me strangely, but I’m not interested in them; I’m interested in finding the 6’2” cocky bull rider who lit the fire under my ass years ago.
Now, as I search for him, I think a part of me has always burned for him.
Not hesitating, I run across the space toward the direction of the stands where he was sitting.
My heart thunders as I round a corner of the chute platform closest to the stands.
Out of nowhere, I hit a hard wall, the mass knocking me backward.
A strong pair of hands grips my forearms, holding me steady.
My face tilts upward, those turquoise eyes set under the shadow of his cowboy hat imprisoning mine. “Harlow? What are you doing, you’re supposed to be riding!”
Thank the lord he can still get back here. I would do this in front of a crowd if I had to, but I’m glad it’s just us. Well, our competitors and team are still around, but I don’t care.
Concern is written all over Colson’s handsome features. He doesn’t let go of me, so I drop my helmet to my feet, my hands reaching up to find stability in the way my fingers clench onto his biceps.
I exhale and inhale rapidly, shaking my head. “I can’t do it.”
“What? Yes, you can—”
“You deserve to be out there. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Lucas dropping out at the last minute. I’m not scared to admit it anymore. You were right.”
His dark brows collide as he shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t.” He points in the direction of the chute. “You’ve worked your ass off and should be on the back of Black Magic right now.”
My chest is caving in from the adrenaline, but I push through it. “I don’t deserve to be here right now. But it doesn’t mean I won’t.”
His eyes search mine, his irises dancing with questions. “Harlow, I quit because I don’t want this anymore. This is no longer my dream.”
“What do you want?” I nearly whisper.
His hand lifts, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair from my ponytail behind my ear. “I think you know what I want.” A sharp breath escapes me. “But, more importantly, what is it that you want?”
I swallow, the admission pouring out of me like the sweetest relief. “I want to keep working toward the professional league because I love it, and because I know I’m not finished. I don’t want to give up.”
“Harlow, you don’t have to. That’s why I did what I did.”
“That’s not all.” I reach for his hand, stroking my thumb over his knuckles. “I’d give up everything tonight in a heartbeat if it means I can tell you how I honestly feel about you. About us.”
Colson’s eyes dart between mine, his raspy tone laced with nerves. “Okay.”
I smile. For the first time today, I don’t feel anxious about what comes next. “I’d rather risk one ride than lose whatever one we’ve been on. I want you. Actually, if I’m being more accurate, I’m so wildly and madly in love with you.”
Colson’s tongue wets his mouth. “You’ve always been a fucking thorn in my side, Harlow Hartt.
” My stomach viciously swoops as he removes his hat, swiping a thumb over his bottom lip.
“But I’ve grown to like it—and I’d rather live life with you pressed against me than endure the pain of not having you at all.
I love the way you pester me and push me to my limits, because we both know that’s a line we’ll always play with.
But more importantly, I love the way you’ve helped me look forward to a life I never thought I’d allow myself.
” Colson’s hand slides around my rib cage to the small of my back, pulling my body against his.
I may have my protective vest on, but the heat from his hand sears my flesh just the same. “I’m done riding, for good.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “Are you sure? I want you to go after whatever you want, and I’ll be by your side while you do it.”
“Oh, dust bunny, you will.” He nods, his finger pressing below my jaw to angle my head upward. “Goals change, and I’ve known for a while that my new dream is helping the girl I love chase hers.”
Just like that, whatever space that was left between us is swallowed up as Colson’s mouth descends onto mine, neither of us caring who’s around us.
He lowers to grip my ass with his fingers, lifting me into his muscular arms as my legs lock around his abdomen.
Our mouths move eagerly as our tongues collide, my head swimming with a high I never want to come down from.
Somewhere between our heated competitions, long coaching sessions, conversations, stolen glances at events, and late nights tangled together, I fell in love with Colson Payne. And for the first time, I’m perfectly content knowing this is one fall I’ll never recover from.