Page 35 of Sunshine

“Yeah,” I say. “Like, how do you know when it’s your turn?”

Wells leans back against the side of the trailer, hooking his thumbs in the front pocket of his jeans. He lifts a single, brown boot to prop up against the metal trim. “There was a draw three days ago for certain events, including saddle-bronc riding. It’s what determines which horse each rider is paired with and what order we go.”

“Luck of the draw,” I say.

He dips his head down, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Literally.”

I consider this as Kasey leads Ghost out of the trailer. “Whydid Kasey bring his own horse if they assigned you to one here?”

Wells turns to look at his brother. “He’s also competing in the calf roping event, and he can use his own horse for that one. Ghost’s his favorite.”

My eyes widen. “Calf roping? Like, baby cows?” Wells huffs out a low chuckle and nods. I glare at him. “Does it hurt them?”

His amused expression falters. “It shouldn’t. The goal isn’t to hurt any of the animals here, just like it isn’t the goal to hurt any out in a pasture or on a cattle drive. It’s to showcase the everyday skills needed in cowboying.”

I nod, squinting at the big arena in front of us. There’s a hustle and bustle here that feels a lot more structured and formal than the last rodeo I saw Wells compete in—but that was an amateur circuit at the fairgrounds.Thisfeels much more official. Many of the competitors here are a little older than the strictly early twenty-somethings at Foxborough, and they wear their best pearl snaps, bolo ties, and Kerry Kelley spurs.

“What’s your draw?” I ask Wells.

“Third,” he says.

“I’ll be cheering for you.”

His eyes come alive. “I’ll try to give you something to cheer for.”

And he does.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THEN

The Mustangs make it all the way to the state championship, and the town is bursting with excitement.

June Danvers paints the front windows of her café bright red and attempts to outline a fierce Mustang with a white window marker, but it comes out looking more like a soft pony with wings.

Gus Romano gives the team free pizza for an entire week, keeping the celebration alive each night as the boys demolish his inventory, forcing him to pull the plug on the whole thing only four nights in.

Mayor Moore hosts a pep rally right in the middle of the town square. The bridge club decorates the (newly constructed) gazebo with red and white streamers and the marching band plays somewhat sloppy renditions of “Sweet Caroline” and “Eye of the Tiger” as sweet old Maeve Meadows twirls giant mounds of red cotton candy onto white papercones from a machine that looks like it came out of a 1980s catalog.

Jason, of course, is thrilled with all of it. “Isn’t this fucking amazing?” he yells over the noise, tipsy from the vodka Ethan snuck into his punch. His tongue has turned so red it matches the letterman jacket he wears casually over a pair of nice jeans. He’s loose, high on dopamine or endorphins or whatever it is that oozes when over a hundred people are fawning about your very existence.

He nearly trips over his own feet as he sways to the swelling crescendo of the band, and I can’t help the laugh that spills out of me. Because he’s right—thisisfucking amazing. “Be careful,” I warn, winding my arm through his to steer him toward a half-empty plastic table, adorned with a centerpiece bouquet of red balloons. Wells has been sitting there idly all night, looking increasingly impatient with the festivities.

Jason sinks into the seat next to him and slaps him on the shoulder. “Dude, isn’t this fucking amazing?”

Wells frowns at him before arching a brow at me.

I shrug, knowing that he also sees the plastic cup Jason clutches tightly in his hand. Wells rolls his eyes. “Really, Jay? Right in the middle of everybody?”

Jason looks confused. “What do you mean?”

Wells shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, one booted foot tapping anxiously on the ground. “I think I’m going to head home soon,” he suddenly declares. “Do you think your parents could take you and Layla home later?”

This has Jason’s face twisting into frustration. “What the hell, Bennett? Why can’t you just enjoy the limelight for fucking once in your life?”

My heart sinks at the idea he might leave early. Jason clearlycan’t drive, and I’ve never been alone with him and his parents before.

Wells scoffs. “You think I care about any of these people?” he asks. “You think I really give two shits about the people who give absolutelyzeroshits about my family?”

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