Page 61 of Hung Up
She’s about to say something when Kai comes up, causing her mouth to snap shut. He glances between us, sensing the tension, but his gaze settles on Faith and the firm set of her lips before he gives me a glare. She turns around and struts off without another word, leaving the two of us alone.
“What did you say to her? I haven’t seen her this pissed off in awhile.”
“She doesn’t like that I’m riding tonight.”
Kai sighs, a frustrated one that has me paying attention. “We all don’t like that you’re riding tonight, man. I understand your drive for the belt, trust me. I’m probably the only one who does, but risking your life? I thought you were smarter than this.”
“I’ll be fine, Casey.” I kick away from the wall and plan to head toward the chute. “Don’t worry yourself.”
I’m one of the last ones to ride, and the entire wait leading up to it is agony. With nothing but time alone with my thoughts, I started thinking about Faith again. She didn’t deserve my anger or frustration, didn’t deserve for me to lash out at her. She made it very clear when we started hooking up what it was, and I’m theidiot who didn’t keep my feelings in check. That’s not her fault. And it’s not her fault either for drawing a clear line, not only to protect herself but also to get this thing back on track.
Yet I still dream of her, of the life I wish we could have. One where she moves to Montana and gets a job in Billings and moves in with me. A life where she meets my family and they spend all their time with her. One where I get to walk around with her in downtown Aspen Creek and show her off to everyone with eyes. A life where I wake up every morning to her beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes, and get to wrap her up in my arms and call her mine.
It’s not her fault that she doesn’t dream of the same thing.
The announcer calls my name and all thoughts of Faith leave my mind. I need to tune in and remember what Stevie and I had practiced to make it through the full eight seconds. Bubba isn’t moving much when I climb the rails and settle onto his back, but he’s making a lot of huffing noises that have the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up. A calm bull in the chute sometimes means the hardest rides.
With my hand secure in the rope, I don’t bother to look around and see if Faith decided to stick around and watch me. Instead, I take a deep breath, tug one more time, and nod to the gatekeeper.
Bubba flies out of the chute and his first buck has me twisting uncomfortably, the blinding pain from my broken rib has spots appearing in my vision. The hand I normally keep upward to help me balance wraps around my midsection, and that lack of assistance causes me to go flying into the dirt at the next turn. I’m gasping for air as I lay on my side, both arms now wrapped around my middle, before I slowly roll over to lay on my back.
The arena is drowned out by the ringing in my ears. The lights are blinding me as I stare up at the ceiling, zoning out as I try to even out my breathing and soothe the ache in my ribs. Twoother riders sitting on the rail jump off and appear at my sides, reaching for my hands to help me up. I hiss as they pull me up to my feet, trying to ignore the pain as I shove them off me and make my way over to the gate on my own.
The second I’m safely behind the chute, one of the doctors comes running over to me, along with Kai and Wyatt. I wave all three of them off, not in the mood to deal with any of their pity or fussing. I’m not sure what drives me, except maybe an invisible string, because before I know it, I find myself outside the media room, knocking on the door.
I’m not sure what I expected, maybe her asking if I’m okay, or pulling me into the room. But I didn’t expect the anger emanating from her as she rips the door open and glares at me, leaning against the door frame. I’m about to open my mouth when I hear my score.
I’ve slipped back eight spots.
And that knowledge has all the anger, frustration, and self-deprecation from the last two weeks tumbling out of me.
“If you hadn’t abandoned me last week, none of this would’ve happened.”
She scoffs. “Don’t you dare fucking blame me for your own insolence. You’re an adult, Jesse. You can make your own damn decisions. You don’t get to put that shit on me.”
“Actually, I think I do.” I take a step forward, unable to tamp down my emotions. “How come you’re the only one who gets to put terms on our deal? What makes you think you get to call the shots?”
“And what terms would you have, Pretty Boy? Because last I checked, you were more than willing to have sex with me.”
My hands fist at my sides. All the words I want to say are being clouded by all the thoughts running through my mind, and I can’t articulate anything in the way I know I need to. “You’reright, I was. But what I didn’t agree to was you trampling all over me and my feelings.”
“Trampling over—” She stops, shaking her head as she glances upward. “See, this is exactly what I didn’t want to fucking happen. If you can’t handle it, if you can’t keep this up without getting feelings, then maybe it’s time we stop.”
“Maybe it is.” The words are out of me before I can stop them.
The surprise on her face disappears as quickly as it came, replaced with a look of acceptance. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
We stare at one another for a few seconds, and when she slams the door in my face, I’m immediately engulfed with regret. I sigh, knocking on the door again, and brace myself for what I’m going to have to face down when she pulls it back open.
“Sweetheart, I?—”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Her voice is cold, detached. “You don’t get to stand there and blame me for your own poor decisions and then try to turn around and take it all back. And you certainly don’t get to try and apologize to me for doing so. You said what you said, Jesse. I don’t care that you were hurt last weekend or had a bad ride. You don’t get to try and justify away your shitty actions and your treatment of me when all I wanted was to try and keep you from getting hurt. Shame on me for caring about you, right?”
“Faith—”
I swear I feel my heart breaking at the hurt that leaks into her eyes. “No. Own it, Jesse. Own it like a man. You don’t get to take it back. Go find some other poor woman to disappoint.”
