Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(99)

My gaze slides to my sister, who’s gone still like an animal caught in the headlights. I wonder if she’ll back down, take an out. I pray she does.

“Dare,” Fallon says icily.

Wyatt makes a buzzer sound with his lips. “Try again.”

Nostrils flaring, Fallon tips her chin. “Fine. Truth.”

Nobody moves. It’s like one of those ASMR videos. The only sound is cutlery clanking awkwardly.

“Your new trainer,” Wyatt begins, and my stomach tumbles. Davis tenses beside me. “Who is it?”

Fallon and Wyatt stare at each other. A kind of manic energy radiates between them.

“Let’s just eat the fucking cake,” Charlie growls.

For a brief second, Fallon’s panicked eyes meet mine. But she swallows and says, “Pappy Starr.”

A soft muttered shit from Davis at that.

Wyatt blanches. “Bullshit. He doesn’t—”

“Rep girls,” Fallon interjects with an eye roll. “And yes, we know all about your chauvinistic male standards, so please spare us the theatrics.”

Ford’s frowning. His long fingers run over his jaw in quiet contemplation. “He doesn’t work with barrel riders, cowgirl.”

“I know it.” Fallon steels her spine. “I’m training with Pappy to ride in the PBR.”

Silence. One second. Two.

Wyatt rockets to his feet. The veins in his neck charged with anger. “The fuck you are.”

“That’s funny.” She scoffs, her eyes grinding him to dust. “I mean, I can’t think of anything you have a say in less than my life.”

“You don’t support this, do you?” Wyatt demands, wheeling to me, to Davis, to the room. He rips a hand through his hair, grips the back of his neck.

Charlie’s pale, trading a concerned look with Ford, who stares at Wyatt.

No one likes it, but it’s Fallon’s choice. No one can talk her out of it except herself.

“It’s her decision,” I say, and Fallon flashes me a grateful glance. I back my sister. Always.

“Wyatt, sit the fuck down,” Davis orders in his scary Marine voice.

But he doesn’t.

I watch Fallon flinch as Wyatt thunders toward her. Which is strange because my sister doesn’t flinch. Not when a horse runs at her full throttle. Not when she falls off the back of a bull.

It’s not fear.

It’s something…dangerous. Powerful.

Something else.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

God, it’s so painful I can’t look away.

Wyatt sticks a finger in her face. “You ain’t got no damn business ridin’ bulls,” he snarls.

Fallon’s nostrils flare. She grips her fork like she’s about to stab Wyatt in the leg. “It’s not your problem.”

“You’re wrong. It is my problem. And when you die, it’s going to be everyone else’s problem because of your selfish, stupid antics.”

I eye them with worry as I stand and move to the cake to cover it with a damp towel, not wanting it to dry out. Then I throw Davis a pleading glance. Say something. Anything.

Keena nudges my knee.

“Wyatt, this isn’t your party to ruin,” Davis says, standing to move Keena away from me. Or at least he tries. Keena darts away from him with a whine. Davis growls at his dog, then turns his attention to our siblings. “You’re making Ruby cry, so cut the shit.”

Ruby sits there, a huge slab of cake on her lap, her eyes wide and wet. Charlie looks pissed, reaching out to take Ruby’s hand in his.

Fallon shoots off the couch. “I’ll save you the trouble, Davis. I’ll go.”

“Oh no,” Ruby says, her small hands going to her mouth.

“Oh, for the love of Christ,” Ford groans, burying his face in his hands. “Would you two just—”

Two shots cut the tense air.

Glass shatters.

Ruby screams.

Davis roars my name.

Two paws land on my back, the force pushing me to the ground. Twisting onto my side, I shove against the furry powerhouse that is Keena, but she won’t let me loose. I look up and realize Wyatt has tackled Fallon and pinned her beneath the coffee table. “What’s happening?” I gasp.

Fallon shakes her head over and over. “I don’t fucking know.”

Davis’s voice booms across the room, hitting us all with force. “Everyone, stay on the fucking ground.”

Another shot rings out. Somewhere across the room, Charlie swears.

Keena whimpers, her nails skittering across the hardwood floor as she flattens me down like a pancake.

“Keena,” I gasp and wrap my arm around her neck. The dog lies on top of me, her wet nose in my neck. She’s trembling, her warm body like a calming blanket. I squeeze my eyes shut and hang on to her for dear life.

My heart is in my throat. I can barely breathe, barely think, except for one singular, terrifying thought.

Aiden’s here.





“Put the suitcase down,” Davis growls, pushing into my room. His gaze burns into mine, his posture tense and coiled.

“I have to go, Davis.” I race across the room, stuffing socks, bras, and T-shirts into the duffel bag I once dared to unpack. It feels like a rewind to that long strange runaway road back to Resurrection. Intent to stay, to dream. Now all my hopes smashed to smithereens. I feel like a madwoman.