We find ourselves some empty seats, luckily not too far back so that Noah can see plenty. As we filter past people to reach our seats, Noah’s excitement dims at the strangers he passes, but less than usual given he’s in his element, surrounded by other rodeo fans. My mom and I sit either side of him and he instantly relaxes, a soft smile gracing his rosy cheeks as he takes in the big arena—bright lights, rows of seats filled with denim and plaid, and country music loud enough you can feel the ground thump with each beat. I probably should have brought him some earplugs, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his little feet swinging to the music as his big blue eyes explore his surroundings.
‘So,’ my mom pokes me in the shoulder behind Noah, lowering her voice as she asks, ‘Sawyer, huh?’
She pumps her eyebrows suggestively when I turn to her.
After spending so many years living in the same house yet barely speaking due to the fear we both harboured around my father’s heavy hand, it took time and alotof therapy to build trust back up between me and my mom, even after we moved away together. But it’s meant we’re closer than ever—she’s my best friend now, and I couldn’thave raised Noah without her. She’s also the only person who knows about Sawyer—a topic of many of my earlier therapy sessions.
‘We barely spoke.’ I nod towards my son next to me, lowering my voice. ‘Noah had most of his attention. Spoke to him all by himself.’
I don’t miss the pride that shines in her eyes when she glances at her grandson. ‘Was it at least nice?’
‘It was … brief.’ Not that I was expecting to fall back into conversation like old times. My mom perks a brow at me, clearly unsatisfied with my answer, and I sigh, admitting, ‘It was good to see him thriving. He deserves it.’
‘As do you.’ She squeezes my shoulder, giving me an encouraging smile that warms my heart. We both deserve it—to take back the town that we had to run from, where she grew up. To make new, better, golden memories, and rebuild the life neither of us ever got to finish here.
‘Momma, it’s Sawyer! It’s Sawyer!’ Noah whispers to me, pointing across the arena where Sawyer climbs up the fence of the chute, waiting to jump on the bull.
He’s the final one to ride—saving the best until last. I always knew bull riding was dangerous, but seeing it in person for the first time, so close to the action, has me clenching the edge of my seat before Sawyer’s even ridden.
Over the speakers, announcers rile up the crowd, listing all the achievement’s Sawyer’s made in his career since he started out as a teenager learning to bull ride on his familyranch. Then they reel off all the terrifying qualities of the bull he’s about to face, and dread creeps up on me.
I stroke the back of Noah’s hair as he vibrates with anticipation, letting his joy calm me as my heart starts to pound even faster when I see Sawyer climbing onto the bull in the chute, still not wearing a helmet like I’ve always noticed in videos I’ve seen.
The arena falls quiet suddenly. Waiting.
And with a ring of the bell, the chute gate is pulled open.
The bull flies out, bucking and spinning like there’s no tomorrow, yet Sawyer holds on, his arm up in the air, riding like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. He absorbs every movement as if he’s anticipating them, confidence radiating off him brighter than the lights filling the arena. Even from the stands I’m certain I can see him grinning.
Noah bounces next to me as the seconds tick by in bright red on the screen, agonisingly slow. Eight seconds suddenly feels like a lifetime, rivalling the decade that’s passed since Sawyer first spoke to me. But even as the bull flails, back legs flying high into the air, Sawyer perseveres, broad muscles tensing as he edges closer and closer to the sound of the buzzer.
The last second has my hand aching from how hard I’m gripping the seat, even though Sawyer rides the bull with such determination he makes it look effortless.
That’s when the bull kicks up higher than ever, forcing Sawyer forward. His head smashes against the back of the bull’s.
I don’t realise I’ve shot to my feet until Noah’s arms wrap around my leg where he’s stood too, and we both watch as Sawyer gets flung off the animal, right into its path. After asimultaneous gasp when his head hits the ground, the arena goes completely silent.
The bull gives one last spin, and the cracking sound as its back feet come down onto Sawyer’s leg is the last thing I hear before I’m hauling Noah into my arms and running out of the stands.
3
Sawyer
I’ve woken up in my fair share of unfamiliar rooms. I’d be lying if that hadn’t been where I expected to find myself the morning after the Willow Ridge Roundup Rodeo—a sign of a good night celebrating.
Except, I wasn’t expecting a machine beeping next to me, or the room to be so stark and grey as I open my heavy eyes. I was also hoping for a naked girl or two to be tangled in the sheets with me, as opposed to a clothed woman perched in a worn leather armchair across from my bed, reading a book.
Even before my blurry vision focuses properly, I know it’s her. The artificial lights shine down on her hair, a bright halo gleaming around the top of her head, like an angel, watching over me.
I’m either dead or dreaming if Honey Goldman’s at the end of my bed. I’m not sure which I’d prefer right now. Especially with the heavy weight tumbling about in my head each time I try to look around what is definitely a hospital room. The numb ache in my right leg also has mewanting to drift back to sleep. Nothing but star-speckled darkness fills the view from the measly windows, meaning I didn’t make it to the morning. Or I’ve been out for days.
Damn, must’ve been one hell of a celebration—except I can’t remember anything after riding the bull at the rodeo … How, as I was waiting to climb into the chute, all I could think about was Honey, memories of her that I’d locked away years ago dusting themselves off and relentlessly plaguing my mind. My strength already waning as I tried to bat them away. That’s not the state you want your head in before you jump on the back of a bull.
Normally I’m riled up and ready to take fear by the reins.
This time, I just wanted to get it over and done with so I could get the hell out of there.
I try to shuffle up in bed to get my bearings, hoping the memories will flood in soon. That’s when I notice the thick white cast covering too much of my right leg.