Page 8 of Reckless Hearts

Mom: Alone.

I roll my eyes, because of course she’d tack that on. She’s never hidden what she thinks about bull riders. Nothing but a bunch of reckless, arrogant boys who wouldn’t know how to put a woman first if their lives depended on it. To them, becoming a champion isn’t just a goal. It’s the ultimate high. Nothing and no one will ever come before winning that gold buckle.

She doesn’t need to warn me. My dad already taught me what happens when you fall in love with a bull rider.

“You promised to quit when Callie was born.”My mom’s pleading voice still echoes in my memories. I’d overheard my parents repeatedly having the same argument. Back then, I’d been naive enough to take my dad’s side, convinced she was trying to take away something that mattered to him.

“Just one more.” Dad cups her chin, drawing her attention.

My mom’s gaze searches his, hoping he’s telling the truth. “You’ve been saying that for years.”

“This time, I really mean it.” He places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Just like that, all the fight washes out of her. “Do you promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart. One more ride and I’m done. Then you won’t know what to do with me. You’ll be complaining that I’m under your feet all the time.”

I can still hear the laugh she gave, full of relief, like he’d finally untied a knot she’d been carrying in her chest for years.

I didn’t understand then, but I do now.

The heartbreak of loving someone who chooses danger over family.

My dad knew she was terrified every time he got on a bull, knew it was tearing her apart. She begged him to stop. If not for her, then for me. And he promised. Over and over, he promised.

But in the end, those promises didn’t matter.

In the end, my dad chose the ride.

He kept competing until the day he was killed. Trampled in the arena while we watched it happen on TV.

My mom’s gut-wrenching screams as she watched the love of her life bleed out still haunt my dreams.

So no. I don’t need to be told what happens when you get too close to a bull rider.

I already know.

When my dad died in the arena, something inside me shattered. Not just because I lost him. But because in that moment, I understood,really understoodthat he never chose us. Not me. Not my mom. Not the promises he made about quitting.

He saidone more ridea hundred times. He told us he’d walk away after the circuit, after the season. After nationals.

He never meant it.

And when the bull bucked him and he didn’t get up, I realized what had always been true.

The bulls came first. The ride came first.It always did, and it always will.

I breathe through the ache in my chest until it settles into something dull, manageable. I’ve had years to practice pushing it down. I decided long ago, I was never going to beg anyone to give up riding. Because how can I expect anyone else to choose me whenmy own fatherwouldn’t?

That’s why, when Maverick and Colt told me they were serious about competing, I did the only thing I could.

I ran.

Maverick comes out with Colt hot on his heels, his voice heated as he says, “She’s coming with me.”

“Like hell she is,” Colt responds just in time for my alarm to go off.

“Perfect timing.” Smiling at the way matching creases form between their brows, I turn off the alarm and tuck my phone into my back pocket.

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