Page 37 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

SIOUX FALLS

yeah, I deserve that

The wrap around my midsection is tight, the only thing helping me breathe without immense pain.

I was told I can’t ride for three weeks, even though it takes around six to heal completely.

Thankfully, no one was in the room when the doctor told me that little piece of information because not riding wasn’t an option.

Pretending like I’m fine and got the green light has been extremely difficult.

Every rider I know has come to talk to me, the guys have been giving me weird looks, and even a few of the guys who are in charge of the Pbr have reached out to see a doctor's note clearing me to ride—which, thanks to Stevie, I was able to forge.

She’s the only one in the family who knows about the injury.

Not only did she see it happen on TV, but I had called her once I left the hospital.

The last couple of days were spent with her staying in my house with me, helping me learn how to wrap my ribs in the best way possible and come up with a solution so I can get on the bull today.

Being a barrel racer, she’s dealt with a few injuries of her own.

So even though she didn’t fully agree with my decision, she understood better than anyone why I couldn’t take time off.

She had competed with an injury a couple of years ago, so she knew that, even if she wanted to, she didn’t have a leg to stand on to tell me I was making the wrong choice.

It seems that whatever gods that be were finally looking down on me because I pulled Bubba for tonight—one of the oldest and easiest bulls in the circuit.

Even though that means I might not end up with the highest scores, at least it won’t be because of me.

I’d rather slide down a spot or two instead of risking ten to fifteen spots by forfeiting.

I have come this far, I’m not about to pull out now.

“Hey there, Pretty Boy.” I turn toward the sound of her voice, but I can’t muster up a smile, my nerves starting to take hold. If anyone is going to be able to see through my bullshit, it’s going to be her. “How are you feeling?”

“Great,” I lie with a shrug, leaning against the wall.

There’s a furrow in her brow and a slight frown tugging at her lips. “You never texted me back.”

This is what I wanted to avoid. Ever since that night in the hotel room, I’ve felt this weird need to put a little bit of distance between us.

I needed time to wrap my head around her need to redefine what this thing is between, the need to establish some boundaries.

I needed my head and heart to get on the same page, especially after how difficult last weekend was.

I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, and that almost cost me the season.

If I want to win that buckle, I need to stop thinking about her as much as I do.

I have to stop letting her impact my emotions as much as she currently does.

“I was busy.” Not a complete lie. Stevie and I were pretty busy practicing how I need to ride to best protect my ribs.

She stares at me, unblinking, before she shakes her head. “I heard from the guys that you pulled Bubba tonight. You’re not really thinking about riding, are you?”

“I was cleared to ride,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. The knot in my gut is one I need to push past. I lied to everyone else just fine, but I don’t really like lying to her. Fucking feelings. “Of course I’m going to.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she groans, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re going to risk your health after an almost horrific injury?”

I mimic her, folding my arms as I narrow my eyes. “Almost is the key word there, in case you didn’t catch that.”

“You don’t need to be a dick about it.” There’s a fire burning behind her eyes that almost makes me feel bad. Almost, but not quite.

“And you don’t need to concern yourself with my ride. I’ll be just fine.”

She’s about to say something when Kai comes up, causing her mouth to snap shut. He glances between us, sensing the tension, but his gaze settles on Faith and the firm set of her lips before he gives me a glare. She turns around and struts off without another word, leaving the two of us alone.

“What did you say to her? I haven’t seen her this pissed off in awhile.”

“She doesn’t like that I’m riding tonight.”

Kai sighs, a frustrated one that has me paying attention. “We all don’t like that you’re riding tonight, man. I understand your drive for the belt, trust me. I’m probably the only one who does, but risking your life? I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I’ll be fine, Casey.” I kick away from the wall and plan to head toward the chute. “Don’t worry yourself.”

I’m one of the last ones to ride, and the entire wait leading up to it is agony.

With nothing but time alone with my thoughts, I started thinking about Faith again.

She didn’t deserve my anger or frustration, didn’t deserve for me to lash out at her.

She made it very clear when we started hooking up what it was, and I’m the idiot who didn’t keep my feelings in check.

That’s not her fault. And it’s not her fault either for drawing a clear line, not only to protect herself but also to get this thing back on track.

Yet I still dream of her, of the life I wish we could have.

One where she moves to Montana and gets a job in Billings and moves in with me.

A life where she meets my family and they spend all their time with her.

One where I get to walk around with her in downtown Aspen Creek and show her off to everyone with eyes.

A life where I wake up every morning to her beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes, and get to wrap her up in my arms and call her mine.

It’s not her fault that she doesn’t dream of the same thing.

The announcer calls my name and all thoughts of Faith leave my mind.

I need to tune in and remember what Stevie and I had practiced to make it through the full eight seconds.

Bubba isn’t moving much when I climb the rails and settle onto his back, but he’s making a lot of huffing noises that have the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up.

A calm bull in the chute sometimes means the hardest rides.

With my hand secure in the rope, I don’t bother to look around and see if Faith decided to stick around and watch me. Instead, I take a deep breath, tug one more time, and nod to the gatekeeper.

Bubba flies out of the chute and his first buck has me twisting uncomfortably, the blinding pain from my broken rib has spots appearing in my vision.

The hand I normally keep upward to help me balance wraps around my midsection, and that lack of assistance causes me to go flying into the dirt at the next turn.

I’m gasping for air as I lay on my side, both arms now wrapped around my middle, before I slowly roll over to lay on my back.

The arena is drowned out by the ringing in my ears.

The lights are blinding me as I stare up at the ceiling, zoning out as I try to even out my breathing and soothe the ache in my ribs.

Two other riders sitting on the rail jump off and appear at my sides, reaching for my hands to help me up.

I hiss as they pull me up to my feet, trying to ignore the pain as I shove them off me and make my way over to the gate on my own.

The second I’m safely behind the chute, one of the doctors comes running over to me, along with Kai and Wyatt.

I wave all three of them off, not in the mood to deal with any of their pity or fussing.

I’m not sure what drives me, except maybe an invisible string, because before I know it, I find myself outside the media room, knocking on the door.

I’m not sure what I expected, maybe her asking if I’m okay, or pulling me into the room. But I didn’t expect the anger emanating from her as she rips the door open and glares at me, leaning against the door frame. I’m about to open my mouth when I hear my score.

I’ve slipped back eight spots.

And that knowledge has all the anger, frustration, and self-deprecation from the last two weeks tumbling out of me.

“If you hadn’t abandoned me last week, none of this would’ve happened.”

She scoffs. “Don’t you dare fucking blame me for your own insolence. You’re an adult, Jesse. You can make your own damn decisions. You don’t get to put that shit on me.”

“Actually, I think I do.” I take a step forward, unable to tamp down my emotions. “How come you’re the only one who gets to put terms on our deal? What makes you think you get to call the shots?”

“And what terms would you have, Pretty Boy? Because last I checked, you were more than willing to have sex with me.”

My hands fist at my sides. All the words I want to say are being clouded by all the thoughts running through my mind, and I can’t articulate anything in the way I know I need to. “You’re right, I was. But what I didn’t agree to was you trampling all over me and my feelings.”

“Trampling over—” She stops, shaking her head as she glances upward. “See, this is exactly what I didn’t want to fucking happen. If you can’t handle it, if you can’t keep this up without getting feelings, then maybe it’s time we stop.”

“Maybe it is.” The words are out of me before I can stop them.

The surprise on her face disappears as quickly as it came, replaced with a look of acceptance. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

We stare at one another for a few seconds, and when she slams the door in my face, I’m immediately engulfed with regret. I sigh, knocking on the door again, and brace myself for what I’m going to have to face down when she pulls it back open.

“Sweetheart, I?—”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Her voice is cold, detached.

“You don’t get to stand there and blame me for your own poor decisions and then try to turn around and take it all back.

And you certainly don’t get to try and apologize to me for doing so.

You said what you said, Jesse. I don’t care that you were hurt last weekend or had a bad ride.

You don’t get to try and justify away your shitty actions and your treatment of me when all I wanted was to try and keep you from getting hurt.

Shame on me for caring about you, right? ”

“Faith—”

I swear I feel my heart breaking at the hurt that leaks into her eyes. “No. Own it, Jesse. Own it like a man. You don’t get to take it back. Go find some other poor woman to disappoint.”

She slams the door in my face again, and I feel myself deflating.

Yeah, I deserve that. As I make my way to the locker room to grab my things, I can’t help but think of one of our first interactions when she had said the exact same thing to me.

Who would’ve thought we’d end up right back where we started?

She’s right. I said what I said and I need to own it. Even though a very small part of me feels that way, it’s still a feeling I have. I can’t take that back. All I can do is try to make it up to her.

And since we’ve ended up back where we started, maybe it’s time I go back to my very first move.