Page 82 of Hung Up
31FAITH
NAMPA
bye bye secrecy
The factthat I had to wear sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a jean jacket over said sweatshirt, and a beanie before I felt prepared to go outside should’ve been proof enough that I needed to stay locked in the hotel room with my cold meds and leftover soup. But watching the announcers talk about the ride before the event started was killing me.
I wanted to be there.
Going as a spectator clearly isn’t in the cards because I refuse to go to this thing and not see anybody. Especially if I’m sacrificing my health to support them.
We’re going to ignore the hypocrisy.
The arena is bustling by the time I finally arrive, only ten minutes until the first ride. I’m moving slower than normal thanks to the body aches, almost getting trampled by three riders as they rush past me. I will say the one good thing about having to dress this way is that no one seems to recognize me.
“Faith?”
I stand corrected.
Stopping, I turn around slowly with a strained smile, coming face to face with Rylie. “Hey, Ry.”
“What the hell are you wearing?” She scans me up and down with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a hat before. Oh, is this some undercover thing?”
“Unintentionally.” She looks even more confused, a sigh escaping me as I brace myself for a lecture. “I’m still technically sick.”
“Technically?”
My shoulders tense at his voice this time, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Why do I feel like I’m a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the candy jar? I don’t turn around; instead, I just nod and plaster a smile on my face, which has Rylie fighting back her laughter.
“I mean, I’m feeling a lot better, but I’m obviously not at full health, so yes.” I finally turn, our gazes connecting, and the concern and frustration in his gaze almost has me faltering for a moment. “Technically.”
“If you were feeling better, you wouldn’t be dressed in layers looking like a celebrity trying to hide from the press.”
Okay, mister, I watch TMZ.“That’s not why I’m dressed like this.” He certainly doesn’t believe me, so I buckle down, trying to make the lie believable. “I’m not working tonight, so I didn’t want to dress up or look the part and have people think I am. I just want to watch without any responsibility.”
“Mhm.” Jesse takes a step closer, closing the space between us as he reaches forward, pushing my hat up slightly and pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. “And your forehead is hot because?”
“The hat.” I swat his hand away and pull the hat back down, trying my best and failing to look intimidating enough wherehe’ll stop pestering me. “It’s wool, so it’s making my head warm. Any other questions, detective?”
He chuckles, soft and low. “I prefer Doctor if we’re going to roleplay.” My cheeks heat profusely, caught off guard by the sudden image of him in nothing but a doctor’s coat. “You should be in bed, Sweetheart. What was it you were telling me yesterday?”
I knew he was going to throw that back in my face.“It’s not the same thing, and you know it. One’s a cold, and one’s broken bones. Try again.”
“I don’t know,” he starts, a trace of humor in his tone. “Putting your career over your health seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“See, but I’m not working tonight, so, again,technicallythat’s not what I’m doing.” I grin triumphantly when he tips his head back and shakes it. “Are we going to keep going around in circles, or can we get you ready to ride? Not that I’m not loving this back and forth we’re having here.”
He throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side and giving me a light shake before he starts to lead us over to the chute. “I’m only agreeing because I’m up next, but don’t think this conversation is over.”
“Okay, Dad,” I tease, the words tumbling out of me before I can stop them. His laughter is loud and infectious, drawing a lot of eyes in our direction, but I can’t stop the smile on my face knowing I’m the only one who seems to get him to laugh like that.
Not sure when I started wearing that like a badge of honor, but here I am.
When we reach the chute, he presses a kiss to the side of my head before releasing me, nodding at Wyatt, who stands there ready to help handle the bull as he climbs up. I ignore the look he’s giving me, not feeling the slightest bit in the right headspacedue to the brain fog this cold is giving me, to try and decipher everything he isn’t saying.
I certainly don’t have the energy for his broodiness today.
Stepping to the side, I walk up to the bars and make sure I can see into the arena, glancing to my right to watch him slip onto the bull. It’s a different angle than I’m used to being down here, and the bull looks so much larger than I remember it being from up above. It’s a little daunting, and suddenly I find myself nervous.
