Page 25 of And Forever (The Riders and Rings Duology #2)
WILDER
“ Y ou ready to go?” I ask from my spot against the railing of the corral.
Charlotte’s hat sits on Rooney’s saddle horn as she checks her stirrups and reins.
Her hands are sure, fingers following every minute detail of the tack.
She wears a turquoise-blue shirt with embroidered white flowers on the front.
The swishy white fringe along the arm seams matches the delicate white ribbons she has woven through the twin Dutch braids in her hair.
The deep indigo Wranglers, which perfectly hug her curves, are covered by the set of black chaps I bought her for Christmas.
She’s worn them nearly every day since to break the leather into something soft and supple.
I adjust the brim of the brown Resistol on my head, smiling with the knowledge that I have a gingham bow in her shirt colors as a hat band.
Watching her methodical routine keeps my anxiety in check as groups of cowboys and cowgirls go about their business in the staging area.
It’s full of familiar sights and sounds, but my discomfort also holds a space, too.
It helps that I had a session with Adam yesterday to reaffirm all the work I’ve done over the last six months to be able to deal with this.
The fear I used to carry has quieted, replaced by a more accurate emotion: sadness.
Rodeos will always make me a little sad.
They will always bring up a sense of longing and grief.
But they also give me happiness, joy, and love.
Things I’m reminded of when Charlotte picks up her hat and secures it on top of her head, flashing a big smile at me.
“Hell yes.” She grins and walks toward me. I open my arms to receive her, sliding my hands into her back pockets. With her hold around my middle, she tilts her head back until she can prop her chin on my chest, looking up at me. “I love you, Wilder. I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“I love you, too, and I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.” I lean down, pressing my lips to hers in a sweet kiss.
“Goddamn, they’re still at it! Get the fucking hose, Curt!”
Charlotte and I break apart, eyes wide as Tim Gains stands, hands on his hips, shaking his head. Next to him, Curtis Stanton’s shit-eating smirk is at odds with his crossed arms. Both men stare at us, and Charlotte tries to wiggle out of my hold, but I don’t let her get away.
“You make a move like that, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” I warn, lifting my chin. “I’m going to kiss my wife whenever and however I please.”
“Was my invitation lost in the mail? What do you mean, wife?” Curtis tilts his head, the disapproving tone playful.
“We didn’t want it to be a big deal.” Charlotte heads him off, but the older cowboy isn’t upset. A fact evidenced by the way he opens his arms to give her a squeeze. Charlotte leaves my hold to be wrapped up in the bear hug our old friend offers her.
“Congratulations, Miss Charlotte,” he teases when they break apart.
Tim is actually smiling, a look that doesn’t sit quite naturally on his usually grumpy face, but he gets a hug next.
He’s not surprised by the information. Bex had called him when he couldn’t attend the surprise wedding in December.
“No ‘Miss,’, Curtis,” Charlotte scolds lightly, but smiles from ear to ear.
“Yeah, it’s ‘Missus’ now,” I joke. Curtis steps toward me, hand extended, and he shakes mine when I reach out. He surprises me by using our joined hands to pull me into a quick, firm hug.
“You didn’t fuck it up,” he whispers, and I give him a good-natured slap on the back. “I’m real proud of you.”
When we pull apart, Charlotte steps into my side, a shrewd look on her face as she stares at her uncle. “What do you want, Tim?”
Tim raises his hands in defense and lets out a gruff laugh. “Not a damn thing. Promise. I’m just here to wish you a good ride on your first rodeo back, that’s all.”
“That better be all.” Charlotte narrows her eyes.
“It is,” Curtis jumps in. “We’re heading out to find your parents and thought we’d come get Wilder.”
While we might have kept our spontaneous wedding quiet, Charlotte’s return to the arena has meant that I’ve come clean with our family and friends about my anxiety and PTSD.
Everyone was very supportive and understanding.
Mitch hugged me a little tighter than usual, and the fatherly love in that moment was more than I could have asked for.
I’m firmly committed to seeing Charlotte race for as long as she wants to be in the saddle, but I know I can’t be in the rodeo environment unsupported.
It means everything to have our loved ones step up to be here for us.
The pair waits patiently for me to kiss Charlotte good luck and check in with Rooney once again. Charlotte’s boy nearly knocks my hat off when he nudges his own against me. Content that the duo is ready to ride, we make our way to where Bex, Mitch, and Winona are waiting.
I hoist my baby girl up on my hip, cheering with her when her mom goes speeding by in a blur, twenty minutes later. Then, just like she did five years earlier, Charlotte Stryker-McCoy wins the barrel racing event and rides away with my heart.