“Why are there six?” My nose wrinkles, mind still on the too-good-looking asshole bull rider down near the gate. Do I act normal? Kick him in the balls? Ignore him?
“I don’t know, Winter. You’re the doctor here. How many hands do we have between us?”
I glance down at us, like I need a visual representation of how many hands there are between three humans.
God. Theo Silva has a knack for making me lose my brain. I almost don’t think I should drink. Maybe there’s something chemical between us, because when I peek at him from beneath my lashes, I see a flash of his white teeth and almost feel the rumble of his laugh when he throws his head back. So carefree.
And flashing his Adam’s apple. I remember the way it moved up and down when I dropped to my knees in front of him. His head tipped back in a similar fashion when I fisted his length and—
“Winter, stop being such a buzzkill.” Willa pushes the two drinks into my hands, the ones that are now clammy and clasped over my jeans.
My fingers fold around the damp plastic cups and I look down at the new boots on my feet. Pale brown cowboy booties with a metal embellished toe. Because, apparently, I can’t wear normal shoes to this event without becoming some sort of pariah.
Summer’s snakeskin boots are a subtle touch with her white WBRF tee. But Willa has adopted the lifestyle. The boots. The jeans. The sparkly belt with her mane of coppery hair blown out and curled like some sort of rodeo Barbie.
The two of them talk around me about the event. Today’s lineup. The final night of the three-day rodeo and what a success it’s been.
I take a sip of my mimosa and will myself to remain calm as events pass. Barrels, roping, something where small children try to stay on sheep and everyone laughs when they fall off. Summer and Willa pat my back and try to engage me in conversation. They think I’m worried about Vivi, but all I can think about is that her father is right fucking there.
I’ve imagined this moment in my head a million times. What I’d do. What I’d say. I’ve oscillated between hating him and understanding his choice.
But I’ve never gotten over how his reaction doesn’t match the man I thought I met that night. Sure, he was wild and carefree, but he felt like an old soul somehow. There was a gentleness in him.
A roughness too.
Choke on it, Winter. I blink the memory away, not wanting to go there.
“Oh, here goes Theo.”
My head snaps up and sure enough, the man holding the microphone in the middle of the ring is talking about Theo. About his dad, Gabriel, and their family legacy. About his accolades and wins.
But my eyes are stuck on Theo, his ass looking way too good in those jeans.
I can resent him and still like his ass. That’s perfectly acceptable.
“Fuck. He is hot, isn’t he?” Willa takes a sip of her orange drink without sparing Summer or me a glance. Then she carries on with, “What? I’m still allowed to window shop.”
My sister snorts, but I feel wooden. Hollowed out. Theo climbs into the chute, bull jostling around between the metal gates. But he’s unaffected.
He gives zero fucks.
His stubbled chin tips down as his gloved hand pulls methodically at a rope. I have no idea what’s going on. He looks like he’s jerking that rope off, and it entrances me how he can come off so tranquil despite the chaos surrounding him.
“You trying to put a curse on him, Win?” Summer nudges me and I offer her a wan smile, trying to cover up how insane I must look staring at the man everyone thinks I hate.
Who I do hate.
“Nah, just interested. I haven’t seen bull riding live before.”
“You watch a lot on TV?” Willa cracks.
No, on my laptop is what I almost reply, but that would raise some eyebrows. The truth is, when I was trying to get a hold of Theo, I would sometimes watch his rides.
“That’ll be the day,” I reply, forcing myself to scan the ring. But my eyes always come back. The helmet over his head doesn’t hide the look of concentration on his face. The way his tongue darts out over his lips as he hunkers down on the bull.
With a swift nod, they tug the gate open and the bull bursts out into the ring, head down to the ground, back hooves up so high they almost kiss the setting sun. My heart thuds loudly enough to rattle my ribs while the crowd around us cheers.
For one brief moment, I hope he falls off. I hope he doesn’t hit the eight seconds. It’s petty and low, but there’s a bitterness in me over the fact he could so easily walk away from me. From her.
But I also don’t much like the idea of my child’s father being a loser. At least I’ll be able to tell her he can ride a bull exceptionally well one day. And that’s something, even if it doesn’t make up for him not being a part of her life.
Theo pushes his broad shoulders back, his hand held high in the air. He comes off perfectly in control, or as in control as you can be on a thousand-pound animal who wants nothing more than to drive you into the dirt, I suppose.
And drive Theo into the dirt he does.
One dropped shoulder, one hard turn, and Theo’s body launches toward the ground like a lawn dart.
I gasp. But so does everyone around us. And when the bull turns to leave, and steps on Theo’s shoulder in the process, there is a chorus of “Ooohs,” but I’m up and moving before I even have time to make a noise.
I hustle past the people seated on the bench, heading straight toward the fence of the arena. Guilt gurgles in my stomach, like I willed this to happen to him. What the fuck kind of doctor am I?
A bitter one.
I ignore the answer and duck through the fence. The rodeo clown draws the bull toward the exit, and it crosses my mind that Vivienne doesn’t need to be left an orphan if that bull decides to turn around.
But all my emergency training kicks in, and I forge ahead anyway. Cowboys surround Theo’s body, including Rhett, who looks distraught.
“Move.” I physically push a man aside and insert myself into the circle of people around Theo. I drop to my knees at his head, noting his still body. My hands cup the sides of his helmet, holding him in place until the paramedics can get here. I lean down over him and see his chest rising and falling, but I need to hear his breath—I need more proof.
The quiet whoosh of air hits my cheek right as his spicy citrus scent hits my nose.
People are too close. Hovering. Pushing in.
“Back up!” I bark sharply.
“It’s okay, she’s a doctor,” I hear Rhett say behind me. “Everybody back it up a bit.”
The press of bodies around us recedes. I hear soft feminine sobs and almost feel the vibration of anxiety around me. When I glance over my shoulder, a girl decked out in rodeo gear has makeup streaming down her face.
She’s weeping.
And all the possibilities of what that means race through my head. I have to remind myself that I was the one-night entertainment. That’s what I asked for, and he probably found someone who wanted more.
I stare down at Theo and am hit with a pang of longing. Not for myself, but for . . . everything we missed. After eighteen months apart, he’s just as beautiful as I remember. Moreso even.
And fuck, he looks so much like Vivienne. It’s almost alarming. How no one has put it together yet is beyond me. It doesn’t take a doctor to see she’s a dead ringer for him.
Without even noticing, the pad of my blissfully bare ring finger has started stroking along the bare skin of his neck. Tan and warm.
And once I notice that I’m doing it, I don’t stop.
“Please be okay,” I murmur under my breath.
And then his eyes open, long dark lashes flicking up to reveal those dark onyx eyes. They take a minute to focus in on me and then a small, confused smile touches his lips.
“Hi, Tink.”
9
Theo
I hiss out a breath when we hit a pothole. It’s not as bad as the dirt road leading out of the fairgrounds, but it’s not ideal either.
The other thing that’s not ideal is the small blonde stewing in the corner of the ambulance. I can’t even turn to look at her properly with my head strapped down onto the board like this. If it didn’t hurt to laugh, I’d laugh right now.
I knew I’d see her again at some point, but this isn’t quite what I’d pictured.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her stare down at one hand while her opposite arm wraps around her midsection.
The thing that woke me up was her snarky little voice barking at everyone to back off, and the feel of her finger stroking my neck. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew it was her. It’s been well over a year, but I still remember how her hands felt on me. The way she felt under my own, all damp and writhing.
I thought we had a good time. A really good time.
“Why are you ignoring me?” Just the vibration of my voice in my chest sends shocks of pain through my collarbone.
I know it’s broken, because it’s sticking out through the skin. I passed out for a second time when I reached up and ran my fingers over the jagged edge.