“I’ll be fine,” I grumble, glancing away because I can’t look at her anymore. It hurts worse than my ribs.
“Rhett, please. I know enough to know you won’t ride your best like this. It’s not safe.”
I’m agitated because she’s fucking killing me right now. And I want to relent. I do. For her, I do.
She’s not wrong. But I also hate when people tell me to stop riding. I want the last win. It’s all I have. She said things to me yesterday that stung. That resonated. That made me realize I don’t have her, not really.
So maybe I’m mad. A little wounded.
I know it isn’t fair to make her endure this when she’s already been through so much. I want to protect her from any asshole who might hurt her. And that needs to include me.
Maybe that’s why I say something I’ll come to regret.
“We slept together for a couple of weeks, Summer. Don’t tell me what to do.” I spit the angry, petty words at her and watch her lips press together.
I hate myself instantly.
She pushes to standing, pulling in a deep breath and wiping at her nose as she straightens, so full of grace and class. So fucking far out of my league. Pulling away from me like I wanted her to, even though I could be sick over it.
Regret pulses through every limb. It courses through every vein. It singes every nerve.
She nods at me and walks away.
Taking my fucking heart with her as she goes.
“Where’s Summer?” my dad asks as I enter the kitchen.
And there it is. The reason I went back to drinking coffee in my bedroom this morning. But even the view from my deck doesn’t seem that impressive anymore.
While I mull over how to answer my dad’s question, I limp over to the coffee maker for another cup, trying not to look as injured as I am but feeling like I’ve been hit by a fucking Mack truck.
Broken ribs, as confirmed by the tour docs. I stayed in the city for one more night. They discharged Theo with a severe concussion, but he rode the next night anyway. I wanted to tell him not to, and I bit my tongue so hard it bled.
I’d told Summer not to tell me what to do, so who the fuck am I to tell another guy just like me he shouldn’t ride?
He rode well, and I watched from the sidelines. I might have a few screws loose, but I know my boundaries, and the amount of pain I’m in right now doesn’t work for sitting on a bull. It puts me behind going into the World Championship, but only slides me into second. Emmett in first and Theo in third.
“In the city with her dad,” I finally say. It’s a safe answer, and it’s true. I don’t know where else we’re at. I lasted all of a day before I was messaging her. Apologizing.
But fuck me, it’s not even close to enough. I was so upset, so worried, in so much pain—but there’s no excuse for what I said. Especially considering how far from the truth it is.
As the frustration burning in my gut cooled, it transformed into a heavy boulder. Making me feel sick. Nauseous. Dizzy.
I’ve never felt sick over a girl. I’ve never made a bigger mistake.
And she still hasn’t responded.
Cade bursts through the back door, stalking straight into the kitchen, looking like some sort of avenging cowboy, angry and wearing black, the sun shining in from behind him. “Why are the boys in the bunkhouse talkin’ about you getting rag-dolled by a fuckin’ bull last night?”
I sense my dad go still as he looks up from his newspaper.
Of course, all those assholes are running their mouths.
“Rhett?” My dad quirks a brow while Cade breathes heavily and glares.
“One of the guys was knocked out. My guy. Gabriel’s son. When the bull went gunning for him, I just . . .” I scrub at my beard, thinking back to that moment. What went through my mind? I’m not entirely sure. All I knew is I couldn’t sit there and watch one of my best friends get gored by a bull. “Acted on instinct, I guess. Jumped on top of him.”
“You what?” My dad exclaims at the same time Cade barks, “I always knew you were stupid, but that really takes the cake.”
“Are you okay, son?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Cade cuts me off. “No, he’s not okay. He rides fucking angry cows with testicles for a living. He’s standing crooked like a broken cock. And he’s clearly got more than a few screws rattling around in his thick head.”
I stare back at my big brother, who is positively seething. “You always had a way with words.”
My dad chuckles at that, but then is back on me. “You seem to be in one piece?”