Page 1 of Never Left You

One

Abi

Fiveyearsago

“Daddy!” Stetson screamed from my arms, his own tiny ones reaching out as Sylas passed us.

My husband, completely ignoring me, kissed our three-year-old son’s forehead before lifting him off my hip.

“You ready to ride a bull, Stet?” Sylas’s Spanish accent flowed off his lips, making me want to kiss him every single time, except this time the words that he said pulled me back to reality.

“Hell no, Mr. Acosta.” I snatched our son back before he could step into the arena with him.

“Oh, come on Mi Reina.” He squinted his eyes, giving me a small pout as I situated Stetson back on my hip. I shook my head at the nickname. Of course, he would choose My Queen during a moment when he wanted to put our son’s life at risk. I never minded it when he changed his nicknames up, but whenever the words Mi Alma floated through the air, I melted. My Soul.

I was Sylas’s soul.

This man was my everything. From the moment I first saw him, I knew I loved him. Granted, it took him years to figure out he felt the same, and if I’d never made a move, I bet we’d still be circling each other. The age gap scared him at first. Not me. I was the fourteen-year-old daughter of a ranch owner, in love with the twenty-one-year-old ranch hand, and once I hit eighteen, I boldly asked him out on a date. Seven years later, we’re married with the cutest little boy in the entire world, and the age gap didn’t make a single difference.

His deep brown eyes widened as he held my gaze. “Abi, I’ll hold him. He’ll be fine.” He waved his hand before holding his palms open for Stetson.

I shook my head, twisting my hips away from him before my son got taken to his death. “He’s too young. Maybe when he’s older, but not at three years old.”

“I was six.” My older brother, Rhett, called across the arena.

I looked over my husband’s shoulder to shoot Rhett a ‘don’t you dare’ glare. Catching the heat, he quickly turned his back to us.

“I get it’s only practice, but no, Sy…”

“Bien, bien.” Sylas shook his head. “Next time Stet.” Sylas leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss. “Always the logical one, Mi Reina.”

I hummed against his lips. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t kill our son.”

Sylas let out a loud laugh. “We’ll get him on the back of a sheep first.”

“Well,” I groaned, turning to my son. Stetson looked just like his father. Brown hair which I know is ruffled even though it’s hidden under his small cowboy hat. His dark eyes shined as he watched his father step into the arena. His forever tan skin was a contrast to my pale complexion, and I loved the fact that every time I looked at him, I saw my husband. “A sheep is better than a bull, I guess.”

I looked back at Sylas as he pulled on his gloves.

My Soul. Mi Alma.

“Make sure he’s mad, Wyatt!” Sylas yelled over to my twin, who was currently getting the bull in the chute. Rhett had run across the arena, over the chutes where Sylas would mount the bull to ride for eight seconds. “You wrangling, Lach?” Sylas waved to my cousin on the other side of the arena. Lachlan stood still, his hands in his pockets as he gave Sylas a curt nod.

“Daddy.” Stetson moved in my arms, his long body flailing as he attempted to move to the gate. I let him lean his feet on the metal and use me as a backrest. I was just tall enough that his little cowboy hat didn’t bother me, “Mommy, the bull.” He pointed.

“Yup, we’re leaving soon though, remember? We’re going with Daddy to the rodeo.” I squeezed him closer to me, feeling his little body against mine, and I kissed his temple. “So many rodeos.”

“The rodeo!!” he shouted, lifting his arms in the air.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, “but first he needs to practice.”

From my cousin Lachlan leading the board last year in bareback before his unexpected retirement, to Rhett taking tie down by storm, the Hartwells lived and breathed the rodeo. Even Wyatt, who hated riding bulls almost as much as he loathed being on a bucking horse, found his place being anannouncer. It was only natural that once Sylas joined the family, he joined the rodeo world too. Only he chose the most dangerous event; he was a bull rider. It was a wild sport, the one people flocked to the rodeo for. Watching Sylas for five years was what made me a fan of it, but my heart still lurched every time that chute opened.

Now, my little family of three was taking the summer to travel to rodeo after rodeo, watching the love of my life climb the boards and make it to the NFR this year. I couldn’t wait to follow him everywhere and to experience it with him. Simply to see him in his element, see him truly shine.

“How many practice runs has he put in?”

The Southern drawl of my husband’s best friend came up behind me, and I turned to see Cash Callahan. His tall figure appeared next to me on the gate, lifting his left leg up on the railing, leaning in to rest on his elbows before he met my gaze. He donned a white hat, standing out against his tawny skin, which was a change from the normal black hat I was used to seeing him in. The white fit him better lately anyway, as if to add some light to his world I knew was turning dark. I enjoyed Cash’s company, and the fact that he still would randomly pop in gave me a sense of comfort. Even if his ‘other half’ didn’t want him here anymore, he still came.

---