Page 6 of Never Left You

She let out a laugh, “I’m not crying, I’m just…”

“Crying?”

“Yeah…” She looked up at me as the first tear fell.

“It’s gonna work.”

“Eight weeks,” she sighed. “I can make this work for eight weeks.”

“Eight to ten,” I corrected.

Quinn agreed with a slight roll of her eyes. “Eight. Watch me.”

With a dip of my chin, I chuckled. “Oh, I expect no less.”

A few more doctors in and out, some prescriptions given for pain, and Quinn was officially discharged from the ER and comfortable in her hotel room. I checked on her horses before waltzing into my own room right next to hers. I tossed my hat onto the nearest chair, kicking my boots off while simultaneously unbuttoning my shirt. I loved this life, but days that ended in the hospital added extra stress and took the thrill away. Though I was technically employed as just her trainer, I helped put together this string of rides, and now each one had to be notified and canceled. Seeing she was fast asleep and knocked out on pain pills in the room next to me, that task was going to be left up to me.

Standing in just my boxers and t-shirt, I grabbed my phone and laptop, pulling up Quinns schedule on our shared document. I let out a deep breath when I saw the twenty plus events I had to call and remove her name from. No one was going to like this.

Especially Quinn.

The rodeo was her life.

Hell, the rodeowasmy life, too. Or rather, used to be my life.

The last time I sat down to cancel events, they were my own.

Letting those memories fester for two seconds, I pushed them out as quickly as they came.

I never let them linger.

My phone buzzed next to me, a much-needed distraction, and the name on the caller ID pulled my lips into a soft smile.

Lachlan Hartwell.

“Lach,” I answered, not even a hello between us.

“How’s Quinn?” His rough voice hit my ears, and I could see him sitting on his porch back at Hartwell Hills Ranch. His feet would be on his railing, a glass of water next to him as he watched the stars. The vision was clear as day—even if it had been years since I had seen him.

“You saw that tumble huh?” I scoffed, switching him to speaker phone so I could cancel the next event Quinn had lined up.

His deep chuckle reverberated the speakers. “Rhett’s wife was more concerned about her fall than the bull rider that almost got bucked.”

The memory of meeting Kyla Hartwell months ago floated through my mind. She was still so new to the rodeo world, so of course she would be more concerned over a barrel racer than a ‘tough’ bull rider.

“Compton will be fine. She tore a ligament, up to ten weeks PT and training before she can get back on the dirt.”

“Damn,” Lachlan breathed.

“She’ll be back before you know it. Tell Mrs. Hartwell she’ll recover, but she’s out for now. Currently canceling her line up.”

“So, what’s next? Montana for PT and rest?”

I had known Lachlan Hartwell for a long time and still thought of him as my best friend. We didn’t see each often—seeing as he stayed far away from rodeos, only really attending one a year in his hometown—but the communication was always there. He was the only Hartwell that still spoke to me on a regular basis, the only one who still checked in. Rhett Hartwell, tie down’s golden child as of last year, would talk to me whenwe ran into each at rodeos, but since he was taking the year off, Lachlan was my only tie to my previous life.

I stood, grabbing the phone as I made my way over to the bathroom. I caught my own gaze in the mirror. The dark brown eyes shown back at me, my tawny skin covered in dirt from the arena, making me look darker than I really was. Being the son of a mixed-race couple—my father Black, my mother Caucasian—my complexion was sometimes the same color of the dirt, but today it stood out like a sore thumb. Setting the phone down, I turned the sink on, cupped my hands and splashed my face, the dirt falling down the drain, almost with all the sullen memories I wish could be wiped from my brain.

“Staying in Boise,” I confirmed, grabbing the towel. “We can get PT going and find a place to train here. Sure, she wants to go home, but eight weeks here won’t be too bad. I just need to talk to the hotel and extend our time.” I rubbed my face with my hands before grabbing the light blue towel on the rack.

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