Mama stops her endless march and taps my chin with her finger. “You’ve put so much on hold the past few years, baby girl, getting healthy and then helping us here at the ranch. This is your chance to do what you love again. To get back out on the circuit.”
The smile she sets on me is so full of life and hope that it’s impossible to argue without admitting the truth—that I took advantage of their faith in me.
A couple years ago, I was given a clean bill of health, both from GBS and the accident, and my doctor gave me the all-clear to ride. My parents expected me to jump right back on Oakley and never look back. It made sense. My obsessive need to ride again had led to me getting injured, after all. They sat me down, said they loved me, and told me they were proud of how far I’d come. They praised my newfound patience with therapy, and through tears they confessed the last thing they wanted to do was hold me back from something I loved. Something I was born to do.
That was the killer.
How could I admit my fear and disappoint them? I couldn’t, not after the pain I put them through in the hospital and then with my long recovery. Not when they finally looked so hopeful again. So, I did the next best thing. I hugged them both, thanked them for being so great, and then promised to start right away. Each week I gave fake status reports when they asked, putting on a smile and creating a million and a half different reasons why it wasn’t a good time for them to come watch. With help from Faith and Cade, who I swore to secrecy, it really wasn’t that hard to do. Of course, their preoccupation with our struggling finances certainly didn’t hurt.
And just like that, I’m reminded why I need to do this.
“You’re right,” I say, toeing the hard ground with my boot. I can’t look at her and lie again. “It sounds great. Really. I just, uh, have to check my school schedule…”
The jubilant hug she envelops me in nearly lifts me off my feet. “This is going to be fantastic, just you wait and see!” Releasing me with a squeeze, she spins on her heel and walks away, a bouncing skip now in her step. “There’s so much to do. The rodeo is the day after your graduation, which means we only have two weeks to prepare… not even!”
Two weeks.
No one says anything, no one even moves, until the screen door slams behind her. When it does, Cade tugs me into his chest. I go willingly, my arms at my sides, my head resting on his solid shoulder.
“You don’t have to do it, you know,” he says, running his hands up and down my back reassuringly. “You can always tell her the truth.”
“And then what? Lose the ranch?” I step back and shake my head. “I can’t do that, Cade. It’s my fault they need the money. My medical bills did this, and the riding school is our golden ticket. You saw the research. Even with schools being a dime a freaking dozen in Texas, only a handful of them specialize in event training, and none of them for barrel racing within a fifty-mile radius. The school is smart business, pure and simple.”
But why did that mean I had be a part of it?
Pushing the selfish thought away, I say, “Riding in the exhibition will put the new clinic and day camps on the map. I have to do it. It’s not like anyone else can ride in my place.”
A quick glance at Faith confirms my suspicion. She lifts her hands in the air and takes a giant step back. “Sorry, girl, but you know I don’t do the fast stuff. Rodeo Queen? That, I’m all over. But chasing cans and racing?” She shakes her head again with a grimace. “I love you something fierce, but put me out there and I guarantee no one will be signing up for classes. They’d be running for the exits after I spew my lunch.”
“And you know I’d do it in a heartbeat if I could,” Cade says, looking frustrated and helpless. When the proverbial shit hit the fan three years ago, he was the one to pick up the scattered pieces. Jumping in and saving the day is kind of his shtick, but in this case his hands are tied. “Though it would be one way to get attention for the ranch...”
“It’s just not quite the kind we’re shooting for,” I finish with a laugh.
Guys aren’t exactly welcome in this event, and while Mama may’ve been a pole-bender and show jumper in her day, that was a long time ago. That only leaves me.
I smother a sigh and scrub a hand across my face. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Seriously, what in the hell is going on here?”
At Justin’s annoyed, borderline angry tone, I squeeze my eyes shut behind my hand. Of course he’d be here for this.
I’ve avoided looking at him since Mama went inside. Seeing her hug him again, not having a clue how he’d broken my heart, not even knowing we dated at all, was hard enough. Seeing the way her touch affected him? I just don’t get it.