Page 60 of Hung Up
“No.” I glance behind me and grab a chair, sitting down beside the bed. “Why would you risk that?”
He sighs, digging the back of his head further into his pillow as if he wants to disappear. “I knew if I forfeited my ride, I could kiss that buckle goodbye. I just couldn’t do it.”
“So, instead, you put the entire season at risk? Jesse, you’re lucky you didn’t get more seriously hurt. You could’ve kissed your career or your life goodbye. No way that a buckle is more important than your life.”
“You wouldn’t get it,” he states, and it takes everything in my power not to snap at him.
“You’re right, I don’t.” I slip my hand out of his and cross my arms over my chest, and the lack of contact has him sitting up slightly to look at me. “I don’t think anything is worth your life.” He doesn’t respond, so I take a deep breath and decide to tread into dangerous waters. “Wyatt told me what happened. Leading up to it, I mean. Jesse, I’m afraid that maybe?—”
He reaches for my hand and gives me a gentle tug. I slip out of the chair and instead perch on the edge of the mattress. “Don’t. I don’t want this to end.”
“Jesse—”
“No, listen to me, Faith.” His free hand pushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear before he cups my cheek, his calluses rough against my soft skin. “It was my fault and had nothing to do with you, I swear. I had other things on my mind, and when Wyatt asked me about it, I panicked and gave him the easiest answer. I didn’t want to get into everything else, so I opted for the thing he already knew about, even if it was a lie. I’m sorry if he gave you a hard time, but I need you to know it wasn’t because of you, Sweetheart.”
His rambling makes my warning bells go off, but I choose to ignore them because if I don’t, everything I’ve been worrying about is true, and I’ll have to make decisions I don’t want to make. For once, being ignorant will get me what I want—more of him.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He gives me a relieved smile. “Lay with me?”
I kick my feet up on the bed and carefully rest an arm over his midsection. He flinches a little at the contact but doesn’t say anything as he wraps me up in his arms, holding me close as I rest my head-on his shoulder. Jesse places a gentle kiss to my forehead, and moments later, his breathing grows heavier.
As I lay awake in his arms, I can’t help but worry about what might come next.
22JESSE
SIOUX FALLS
yeah, I deserve that
The wraparound my midsection is tight, the only thing helping me breathe without immense pain. I was told I can’t ride for three weeks, even though it takes around six to heal completely. Thankfully, no one was in the room when the doctor told me that little piece of information because not riding wasn’t an option. Pretending like I’m fine and got the green light has been extremely difficult. Every rider I know has come to talk to me, the guys have been giving me weird looks, and even a few of the guys who are in charge of the PBR have reached out to see a doctor's note clearing me to ride—which, thanks to Stevie, I was able to forge.
She’s the only one in the family who knows about the injury. Not only did she see it happen on TV, but I had called her once I left the hospital. The last couple of days were spent with her staying in my house with me, helping me learn how to wrap my ribs in the best way possible and come up with a solution so I can get on the bull today. Being a barrel racer, she’s dealt with a few injuries of her own. So even though she didn’t fully agree withmy decision, she understood better than anyone why I couldn’t take time off. She had competed with an injury a couple of years ago, so she knew that, even if she wanted to, she didn’t have a leg to stand on to tell me I was making the wrong choice.
It seems that whatever gods that be were finally looking down on me because I pulled Bubba for tonight—one of the oldest and easiest bulls in the circuit. Even though that means I might not end up with the highest scores, at least it won’t be because of me. I’d rather slide down a spot or two instead of risking ten to fifteen spots by forfeiting. I have come this far, I’m not about to pull out now.
“Hey there, Pretty Boy.” I turn toward the sound of her voice, but I can’t muster up a smile, my nerves starting to take hold. If anyone is going to be able to see through my bullshit, it’s going to be her. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” I lie with a shrug, leaning against the wall.
There’s a furrow in her brow and a slight frown tugging at her lips. “You never texted me back.”
This is what I wanted to avoid. Ever since that night in the hotel room, I’ve felt this weird need to put a little bit of distance between us. I needed time to wrap my head around her need to redefine what this thing is between, the need to establish some boundaries. I needed my head and heart to get on the same page, especially after how difficult last weekend was. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, and that almost cost me the season. If I want to win that buckle, I need to stop thinking about her as much as I do. I have to stop letting her impact my emotions as much as she currently does.
“I was busy.” Not a complete lie. Stevie and I were pretty busy practicing how I need to ride to best protect my ribs.
She stares at me, unblinking, before she shakes her head. “I heard from the guys that you pulled Bubba tonight. You’re not really thinking about riding, are you?”
“I was cleared to ride,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. The knot in my gut is one I need to push past. I lied to everyone else just fine, but I don’t really like lying to her.Fucking feelings.“Of course I’m going to.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she groans, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re going to risk your health after an almost horrific injury?”
I mimic her, folding my arms as I narrow my eyes. “Almost is the key word there, in case you didn’t catch that.”
“You don’t need to be a dick about it.” There’s a fire burning behind her eyes that almost makes me feel bad. Almost, but not quite.
“And you don’t need to concern yourself with my ride. I’ll be just fine.”
