Page 1 of Ride the Sky

Moonlight illuminates the tips of my boots as they crunch gravel, and the October wind whips the end of my braid. In my arms, I juggle my trusty duffel bag, a saddle blanket, and a Styrofoam cooler. Using my boot, I nudge open the passenger door of my pride and joy—my cherry red 1972 Chevy pickup—and drop in my belongings. The bed is full, but I can crash in the backseat if needed.

I shut the door. Pass the bumper with the decal of a silhouette of a bull rider as I move for the horse trailer attached to my hitch.

Lovely and Lawless, caramel mares the same color as my hair, stand quietly in their trailer. They were a thirteenth birthday present from my father. Twins. A rarity. When I was a little girl, we were so joined at the hip I felt like their third sister.

My horses. The only thing in this life that’s never failed me.

I look at Lawless on my right. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

She gives her standard dismissive chuff, and I wonder why I’m so pleased she’s a standoffish asshole.

Because she’s ready to go.

Just like me.

Tonight, I leave. My friends. My family. My hometown.

The only blessing I need is my father’s, and I have it.

Earlier, he had pressed a hundred-dollar bill in my hand and squeezed me hard. “You go,” he had said in that gruff tone of his. “Ride hard, ride fast, and find what you’re searching for.”

His rodeo pep talk had my throat tightening up.

What that is, do I even know?

All I know is I have to go. I will explode if I stay here any longer.

The roaring in my head dulls as I glance over at my little cottage. My first big purchase. First bottle of Boone’s Farm drunk on the porch in celebration of clinching my first WPRA World Championship Barrel Racing World Title. I haven’t stayed overnight in it since the attack. Maybe one day I’ll be back. Maybe one day I won’t want to set it on fucking fire.

A shiver rolls through me. Not because of the cold, but because of the memories.

I’ve been having fun playing with your sister. Your pussy was nice, but hers was even nicer.

“Fuck,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut. I try to stop the memory, the voice, but he’s always there. That demon. Dragging me down the hallways of my mind.

Aiden, the man who hurt both me and my sister…

Guilt and rage pour into my veins.

I’m the one who brought Aiden back into Dakota’s life.

We met at a stock show; he told me his name was Danny. We dated. Fucked. I liked him, as a temporary fixation. Being with Danny was boring, bland. His kiss tasted like dirt from a garden, but I did it anyway. I saw the anger in Wyatt’s eyes, the desperation every time we were together. I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him jealous. But then it was revealed that Danny was Dakota’s ex, Aiden. He used me to get close to her. To try to hurt her and take his baby.

My fault. All my fault.

If I had been stronger, better, smarter, I could have stopped it. That’s what sex—love—gets you. Pain. It makes you stupid. Weak.

I can’t get over Aiden. I have nightmares of him coming to me in my cottage, carrying a knife and chopping me into little pieces right after Dakota and Duke.

It’s like he’s still holding that knife in my chest, but no one can see him or hear him but me.

Some days, living reckless is the only thing that drives away the memories. The sheer dread and panic of that night. And yet, all the wild rides, the bulls, the drowning myself in alcohol, the fighting with men at bars, the icing out my family, still haven’t offered peace.

I can feel it. That spot in my chest expanding and expanding until I finally realized I was planning to take everyone down with me.

What Reese said last month at Nowhere.It’s okay to go. To move when you need to run.It stuck with me. Sunk into my bones like a seed and pushed through the old sidewalk cracks like a stubborn wildflower.

Walking to the driver’s side door, I pause, wincing as the pain in my head increases. Swearing, I press two fingers against my angry, throbbing temple. Migraines. A lingering reminder of Aiden.

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