Callie

I’ve never been to a rodeo before.

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When I asked Jace if Krystal and I could tag along, he gave me a look like he couldn’t quite believe it. And honestly, I surprised myself. Sitting in a crowd watching bulls try to fling grown men into the dirt never sounded like a good time. But I wanted to be here. I wanted to support Bryson.

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Last night, the four of us were crammed into the hotel room—pizza boxes open, beer bottles scattered on the small table, and Bryson pulling up old videos of his rides. Krystal and I curled up on the bed while Bry sat on the floor explaining everything. 

 

Turns out, bull riding isn’t just about hanging on.

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There are rules, scores, and strategy. The bull’s aggression counts too. The more out of control the bull, the more potential points the rider can earn. Bryson said control, movement, and flow matter just as much as guts.

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He’s competed in the world championships twice. The best he placed was fourth. I thought that was amazing, but he just shook his head like it wasn’t enough.

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Watching those videos had my stomach in knots. I don’t know how anyone willingly does that. You couldn’t pay me to be near a bull, let alone on one.

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Now, the three of us—Jace, Krystal, and me—are sitting in the stands, waiting for Bryson’s turn. Nathaniel’s with him, doing whatever it is they do to prep.

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The sun is brutal, and I’ve had a pounding headache since I woke up. My body feels heavy, my skin too warm, and a queasy twist keeps building in my stomach. I press my hand to my forehead, hoping it passes. Maybe it’s the travel. Or the heat. Or something I ate.

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There are two more riders before Bryson, and I’m counting the minutes until I can lie down.

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Ten minutes later, the announcer calls his name and the crowd erupts. Bryson has fans, that’s for sure.

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“Oh lord, he’s fucking hot,” Krystal says, leaning into me with a grin.

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I have to admit, he does look good. Confident. At ease. Like he belongs in this world. His riding gear fits him perfectly, his Stetson low over his brows, and that familiar grin tugging at his lips.

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The bull stomps in the chute as Bryson lowers himself into place.

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My heart is pounding with nerves, but I can’t look away.

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He and Nathaniel exchange a few words. Bryson nods, and just like that, the gate swings open and the bull explodes into the ring.

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“Holy shit,” I gasp, grabbing Krystal’s hand as the animal kicks and twists like it’s made of fury.

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I cover my eyes with my other hand.

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“Have some faith in him,” Jace says with a chuckle, gently trying to pull my fingers away.

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“I do. I just don’t have faith in the bull,” I mutter, eyes still closed.

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The crowd bursts into cheers, and Jace taps my arm. “It’s over.”

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I peek through my fingers. “Already? Are you sure?”

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He grins. “It’s only eight seconds, baby.”

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“I know. It just felt so much longer.”

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My pulse finally starts to settle. That eight seconds felt like an hour, and my heart was stuck in my throat the whole time.

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We walk toward the stadium exit to meet Bryson and Nathaniel. Five minutes later, Bryson appears, grin wide as he tosses his Stetson into the air and catches it again.

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“Second place, baby!”

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Krystal squeals and launches into his arms. He catches her easily and spins her once before setting her down. Jace claps him on the back and Nathaniel gives him a fist bump.

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“What now?” Jace asks.

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“Beers. There’s a bar near the hotel. I’ll drive us back and we can walk from there,” Bryson says.

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“Sounds good,” Krystal agrees.

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Jace grabs my hand as we head toward the truck. My headache flares again, sharp and pulsing behind my eyes. I rub at my temple, trying not to grimace.

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“Are you alright, angel?” Jace asks quietly.

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“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just a bit tired.”

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He watches me for a second but doesn’t press. I was going to head back to the room, but I want to celebrate with them. I want to be part of this.

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Once we’re inside the bar, Bryson offers to get our drinks.

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“I’ll come with you,” I say, standing before Jace can ask questions. I know he’ll pick up on how off I feel if I stay too close for too long.

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At the bar, I ask for a glass of water and a Coke.

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“You want anything in that?” Bryson asks, nodding toward my drink.

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“Nope, I’m good.”

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He studies me for a second, a worried look settled on his face. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

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“Just too much sun today,” I lie as I don't want to ruin the night. 

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He nods slowly. “If it gets worse, tell Jace. You guys can chill at the hotel.”

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“Thanks, Bry. I appreciate it.”

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We pick up the drinks and start heading back to the table, but he stops a few steps away, turning toward me. “Hey, Callie,” he says quietly. “Can I say something real quick?”

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“Of course.”

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“I’ve been meaning to say this... I’m really sorry for how I acted that night. How Jace found out."

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I blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. My chest tightens—not from anger, but from the warmth in his apology. We’ve been okay since that night, but it still means something to hear him say it.

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“It’s alright, Bryson. We’re good. I was on me. But Jace and I have moved forward.”

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He exhales and offers me a smile, one that eases the weight in his shoulders. “I know, it just plays on my mind sometimes." He glances at the table then back at me. "Jace is lucky to have you. You’re kind, and strong, and you bring out something in him most people don’t even see.”

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Compliments have always made me nervous. I duck my head and smile. “Thanks. But honestly, I’m the lucky one.”

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As we return to the table, I catch myself resting my hand lightly over my stomach. I still feel off—tired, queasy, not quite myself.

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Maybe it’s the heat.

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Or maybe... it’s something else entirely.