I worked at another ranch, I rode bulls at another arena, and another month passed. I knew, in theory, my life was going on, but it felt like it had stagnated. Most of it I’d left hundreds of miles west. I’d even left behind two of my favorite pastimes: whiskey and women. I hadn’t had a single sip or felt a single woman beneath me since I left the only home I’d ever known. I knew part of the reason for my newfound abstinence was because I just felt numb. I didn’t need a drink or a woman to help me get there because that was my steady state anymore. The other part, the main part, was doing it for her. She’d never know, but I couldn’t let the love she’d given me and all that she’d sacrificed to be with me be for nothing. I wanted to stay changed, even if we couldn’t be together. I wanted her sacrifice to be matched by one of mine. I wanted her love to leave me changed forever so, somehow, I’d always carry it with me. Saying no to the Jack and the girls was the only way I could honor the love she’d given me. It was all that was left of it because her love had turned to hate.
So I cut off all ties with my old life. Since I didn’t have a cell phone, no one from my old life could reach me. It would only be a matter of time before I ran into someone or someone tracked me down, but I was too busy living in the moment to think about the future. Even five minutes into it.
It was a Friday night, and I was competing in a small-time rodeo just outside of Baker. I didn’t know why I bothered to enter. I still hadn’t managed a single eight-second ride in practice, so I had no reason to think riding in an actual competition would be any different. I suppose, as time had proven again and again, I was a glutton for punishment.
I was up next, and when the guy before me flew out of the gates, I crouched down to scoop up a handful of dirt. Cupping it, I shook my hand and let the dirt sift between my fingers. It was the first time I’d done it, but I’d seen it done plenty of times. When Clay made it to my rodeos, he could always be found staggering around, sifting a handful of dirt between his fingers. I guess it was something he’d picked up from his dad and used to do as a bull rider himself. I asked him once why he did it, and he’d answered—well, he’d slurred—how could a man expect to stay on top when he didn’t know what was below him? It hadn’t made sense to me then, and it still didn’t make sense to me. But back in his day, Clay Black had been a bull riding legend, so I figured if shaking some arena dirt through his fingers had worked for Clay, I wasn’t above trying it. I’d tried everything else—might as well.
The guy ahead of me managed to stay on a full eight and earned a decent score. Lucky bastard. When my name was called, I dusted off my hands, climbed the chute, and got into position. I didn’t know anything about the bull I’d drawn. I didn’t know anything about the rodeo, or the people competing, or the people in attendance. The only thing I knew was that I had to stay on the back of that damn thing because that was all I had left in life. Bull riding and eight seconds. Those were the last things I had to look forward to, the only things left to aspire to. Sad and pathetic, but the truth. So I weaved my hand through the rope, lifted my other, and emptied my head.
I should have known better. As soon as it was empty, she leapt into it. Josie always had a way of doing that—sneaking up on me when I least expected it. The image of her below me, holding my face and telling me she loved me, rushed into my head. It wasn’t in a hurry to rush out. It stayed until I didn’t see or hear the arena. All I heard and saw was her and those three words. The image was so painful, I winced . . . and the chute flew open. I remembered where I was a moment too late. That bull bucked before hurling into a spin, and I caught so much air I might have been suspended for eight seconds.
But I’d barely made it one on that back of that bull. When I hit the ground, I landed on my chest. My face hit next. I knew what the dirt felt like, and I knew what it tasted like: cow shit and failure. Shoving to a stand, I spit out a mouthful of dirt and chucked my hat across the arena. I didn’t notice the crowd, and I didn’t turn around to make sure the clowns were doing their jobs. I stomped out of that arena swearing if I never saw another one or another bull, I’d be just fine.
Once I’d leapt over the fence, I wandered until I had some space and could curse at the bloody moon without offending anyone too much. Life was shit, and that was what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life. Lonely nights, hard-worked days, and humiliating rides where I personally insulted the sport of bull riding.
Fuck my life.
“I don’t know who looked more pissed off out there. You or the bull,” a familiar voice said behind me as my hat landed at my feet. “Actually, I take that back. You were definitely the most pissed one. By a long shot.”
I was already smirking when I twisted around. “Why if it isn’t the girl who isn’t afraid to let her freak flag fly.”
“Nope. I’m not afraid to be who I am. Or love who I love.” She smirked right back, lifting an eyebrow.
“Rowen Sterling.” I looked around. No sign of Jesse . . . or anyone else.
“Garth Black. Minus the enthusiasm,” she threw back.
“What? Really? No enthusiasm? I thought that, if nothing else, one misfit could drudge up some enthusiasm for another.” I grabbed my hat and beat it against my chaps to get the dirt off.
“It’s hard to drudge up any enthusiasm when the best man’s been missing for two months and the wedding is in two days.”
Along with the life I’d left behind, I’d lost track of time as well. Could it be June already? “Yeah . . . about that . . .”
“Save it. I don’t care what you have to say about that right now. All I care about is you getting your ass in that truck of yours and getting to the wedding on Sunday. I’m tired from tracking you down, and I’m tired from putting centerpieces together, and I’m tired from being kept up all night, so shut your mouth already.”
Taking a closer look, Rowen did look beat. Her clothes were rumpled, most of her hair had fallen from her braid, and her eyes were bloodshot. I sat on one the bottom of one of the empty bleacher sections. “Tell Jesse to stop keeping you up all night with his sex marathons so you can get some sleep then.” I waited for Rowen to fire something back. The only time she’d let me get the last word in was never, and I was expecting more of the same.
“Unfortunately it isn’t Jesse who’s been keeping me up all night.”
I arched an eyebrow as she plopped down on the bench beside me. “Not even married and already checking to see if that grass really is greener on the other side?”
I scooted out of reach just before her elbow came at me. “The person who’s been keeping me up is the same person whose heart you broke before pulling your vanishing act.”
“Josie?” It was painful thinking about her and twice as much so saying her name.
Rowen nodded. “Josie.”
“How’s she doing?” I asked, staring at the ground.
“I’d tell you if I thought you had a right to know. Which you don’t. You giant. Ass. Hole.”
“I’m not going to argue with you on that. Not even for fun.” I dropped my head into my hands and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to brace myself against the pain shredding through me like tiny pieces of glass.
Rowen didn’t say anything for a while. Silence, when the two of us were together, was a rare thing. “Whoa. You really are miserable, aren’t you?” Rowen scooted closer and awkwardly wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “So you’re miserable. And Josie’s miserable. Why the hell did you up and disappear again?”
God, for so many damn reasons that didn’t seem important anymore. “You, Rowen, of all people should understand why I had to leave.”
“I might understand why you thought about doing it, but not why you actually did it.” She gave me a few pats on the back before removing her arm. Thankfully. Rowen might be able to express her affection for Jesse like a champ, but she was an awkward mess around everyone else still. Figuring out how to give affection took a while since she’d been denied it most of her life—I understood that well. “You know I worried about the same things you’re worried about: hurting the person you love, destroying their chance for a happy life. But I finally realized something,”—Rowen nudged me—“I’ve got some pretty great stuff to give, too. The Jesses and the Josies of the world aren’t the only ones with something to give. We—the misunderstood misfits of the world—do too.”
I huffed and shook my head. I might have had something to give, but I couldn’t figure out how to give it without destroying the person I wanted to give it to.
She said, “People like you and me, kids who grew up fighting for every single ounce of love that came our way . . . When we find that person we want to love, we give them a pure and boundless form of it because we know what it’s like to be denied it. We know the opposite of love so well, we go a full one-eighty when we find that special someone.”
I gave Rowen a half-smile. “And how does your ‘special someone’ feel about that pure and boundless love of yours?”
“Pretty f**king fantastic. Something your special someone never got the chance to feel because you acted like a giant. Ass. Hole.”
“You know what the nice thing is about being at a zero in the self-esteem department?” I asked with some sarcasm. “Not being able to go any lower when you fire insults off at me.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to knock, beat, shake, or bitch slap some sense into you.”
“So yeah, you’ve got a point. I behaved like a giant a**hole, but I had to. It was the only way she’d let me go. Now that she has, she can find someone else to experience that boundless love shit with. She’ll find it with someone else,” I said, ending in almost a whisper.
“With someone else? Who the hell do you think Josie’s ever going to find that she’s going to be happy with if it’s not you?” Rowen looked like she was considering thumping me on the back of the head, so I scooted farther down the bench. “Colt Mason? Some other sweet country boy who bores her to tears?” I shrugged. “Puh-lease. The only boy Josie’s going to be happy with is you, and if she chooses to settle down with someone else, she’s just going to be pretending.”
“According to you,” I replied. I wondered if they’d let me ride again. That would at least get me out of having that conversation with Rowen. I’d rather eat another dozen mouthfuls of dirt than talk about Josie and what her future would be like with some other man.
“According to her, you giant—”
“Ass. Hole,” I filled in. “Yeah, I caught that the first fifty times.” And then what she’d said set in. “Josie said that? She actually told you the only person she’d be happy with is me?”
“Would it change your mind if I told you the truth?” She crossed her legs and swung her foot, waiting.