Page 41 of Ride the Sky

Chuckling, I close my lips around the bottle and drink.

“You got this,” he says when I’m finished.

I throw him a cool look. “No shit.”

With that, I take the stairs up to the platform. There’s a dull throbbing in my head as I don my helmet. Heart racing, Ilower myself onto Goliath Jim. Steady movement around me as the chute workers tighten my bull rope. Above me, Pappy and Goliath Jim’s stock contractor stand on the platform at the top of the chute. I see Pappy smile, hear his boisterous laughter as he shakes the contractor’s hand.

I tune them out. Tune everything out. No distractions. No noise. My heart hammers. I take a deep, slow breath and wrap the rope around my right hand and lift my other.

You be sure when you nod, Fallon. Really fucking sure.

Wyatt’s thick rasp worms its way into my thoughts.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Damn that cowboy.

Per usual, he’s right. Not like I’d ever tell him that.

I have to be sure. I have to make this count. I have to matter. No time for fear or doubt. Never again.

And when it’s over? Will I be proud? Will I feel better? Will that ache that’s consumed me for the last two years stop eating me alive?

I look into the stands, spots dancing in my eyes thanks to the stadium lights.

Beneath me, Goliath Jim shifts. Massive, brutish power. He snorts.

I feel the tremor of his muscles. Pent up energy like the calm before a storm.

He’s ready, and so am I.

A calm settles over me.

I open my eyes.

And then, I nod.

The gate swings open.

The arena erupts as I explode into it.

It feels like whiplash. Goliath Jim leaps, thrashing violently. A dizzying dance of power. Savage muscle. Rage. We’re one, we’re together.

Liquid, I think. Make my body liquid, like the Elk River running through town. Like Vic’s steady voice grilling me.What happens if you get knocked off balance. If you lose your center?

You find it again.

That’s the answer. It’s always the answer.

Wyatt’s now.Centered. Keep yourself centered.

Centered.

Goliath Jim spins like a cyclone. I grip the bull with my spurs. Years of training. All of this is what I’ve worked for. Yearned for.

Hope, warm and rare, slices through me.

In that moment, I have him. I’ll stay on. All eight seconds.

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