Page 184 of Ride the Sky

I don’t feel back. I don’t feel ready at all.

My head’s not in the game. It’s with Wyatt, wherever the hell he is.

Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of white. I bristle, turning, and watch Pappy’s fat ass stomp through the crowd.

So he is here.

But I don’t feel like hunting him down and setting him straight with my boot on his throat. Which means my heart is not in it today.

Hollow. It all feels hollow without Wyatt.

“You okay?”

I look at Tripp. His cowboy hat’s crooked, and he’s loaded down with at least five duffel bags. “You look like you want to murder someone.”

I run a hand over my vest. “I do. Pappy.”

His eyebrows rise.

I sigh. “That asshole set me up.” I give Tripp a brief rundown of the deal he made with Goliath Jim’s manager.

He gapes at me. “He did that? What a fuckin’ prick.”

“Yeah, Grade A asshole.” I think of Weston’s report coming out later today and smirk. “But like any man, he’ll get what he deserves.”

“You need anything? Water? Energy gel?” He glares in Pappy’s direction. “A knife?”

I think of the cane Wyatt bought me. I fucking wish.

I shake my head. “No. I just need a second.”

“You got it,” Tripp says. “Good luck.”

We fist bump, then he flashes me a grin and lopes off.

I have time before my ride, so I pace restlessly beneath the stands. Clear my mind. Calm before the storm. Rodeo. The love of my fucking life and the bane of my existence.

I look down at my leg, smoothing a hand over the thigh of my blue jeans, my scar. “You ready?” I ask my hip. “Because I’m sure as hell not.”

I’m not a coward, but suddenly, I feel like one.

The last four months made me stronger, but what if I can’t do this? What if my hip gives out?

My lungs collapse. My heart stops.

Oh my god, I thought I could, but I can’t.

For a long moment, I’m four years old on top of my first horse, Fern. What if I fall again? What if no one’s there to catch me?

I always have nerves, but never like this. My brain’s scrambling for a way out of this. A way to chicken out at the last minute.

The glow of the afternoon sun backlights the stands. I drink in its warmth but still shake.

Scared.

I’m fucking petrified.

I close my eyes. Focus on stilling my trembling hands and not losing my shit.

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