Chapter 76
Macey
“Next up is Logan Wild on Apollo!” The announcer calls out.
My hands grip the fence railing as the bronc—with Logan riding him—storms into the arena.
Two seconds in and my palms are sweating.
Logan’s so good at bronc riding. Yet, every time I watch him compete, my heart drops into my stomach like I’m on the scariest roller coaster. My gaze stays focused on Logan as he holds on for dear life while the bronc bucks the hell out of him.
God, this bronc isn’t playing around.
Four seconds in and I’m biting my bottom lip till it bleeds. But Logan looks in control. He’s keeping his seat, and Apollo seems to be tiring.
Just a few more seconds.
“Hold on, hold on,” I chant to myself.
The crowd is getting louder. Logan’s expression is taut with concentration and his mouth pursed as he hangs on.
Apollo bucks so damn hard that Logan flies off his seat before coming back down safely on the bronc’s back.
The crowd gasps.
I hold my breath, my knuckles white from gripping the fence. Apollo dances his way around the ring and I can’t see Logan’s face anymore.
I take a deep breath.
Just as I dare to let it out—
The bronc violently rises up on his back legs.
Time slows as I stare helplessly at the horse holding Logan hostage in mid-air. Somehow, Logan stays on.
Logan’s told me that a bucking bronco looks worse to the crowd watching than it feels for the rider.
He says that when you’re the one on the horse, all you’re thinking about is surviving.
Death doesn’t enter your mind in the moment.
I get that bronc riders are a different breed, and they’ve made peace with the dangers of their sport.
But I want to tell him to be careful. I want to tell him to keep his right hand steady because it looks like it’s slipping. But I can’t. I can’t do anything because I’m outside the arena looking in.
He’s going to get first place in three, two…
All I can do is watch. My throat is sore from screaming. My teeth clench together. I pray as hard as I can.
Logan
Holy fuck.
I’m not in rhythm.
I fight to hold on.
When things are going well in a contest, the bronc and I are always in sync.
But not today.
Today, this fellow is angry.
And he’s letting me know it.
I try to re-grip.
The crowd is a blur.
The world outside of the bronc and me disappears.
I can’t be afraid. There’s no time to do anything but respond to what’s right in front of me.
I re-grip once again.
The bronc rears up brutally.
My hand is ripped off the grip.
I’m flying.
Twisting.
No control.
I can’t stop my fall.
Can’t stop.
The wall is too close. I need to rotate my body, need to turn somehow…
I hit the ground hard. Too hard.
Macey
I stand, transfixed with fear, as Logan’s bronc bucks him viciously.
So viciously that Logan gets thrown into the air sideways.
I can’t swallow my scream.
Logan misses the wall but hits the ground.
He’s not getting up.
My heart plummets.
A rodeo hand runs out and gathers Apollo and leads him away so he can’t hurt Logan.
But Logan’s not getting up.
Medical personnel rush the arena.
Luke’s out there now squatting next to Logan.
Without thinking what I’m doing, I scale the fence and jump over.
I run toward him as he lies motionless in the middle of the ring.
Tears hit my cheeks.
I can’t lose him.
Logan, please be okay. You have to be okay.
A stretcher comes out and Logan is lifted onto it.
And my heart goes with him.
Logan
Macey, I still haven’t told you…
Macey, I love you.