It wasn’t signed. Raven read it three times, just bawling as quiet as she could. Someone out there in the world had made a huge sacrifice so that she could be okay.
She took a picture of the card and texted it to Dead while she fell apart propped up against the office desk. A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his response.
I already know what you’re thinking, but you can’t look for her, Raven. They’ll kill her and come after you. I know this guts you. I wish I was there to hold you and talk you through it. God, I really wish I was. That letter and that picture have to be enough for you. Can I call?
She sniffed and messaged back. I’ll call you when I settle down. Send.
Yeah, that’s what I figured, sweet girl. I’m here. Okay? You aren’t alone. I’m here. Always here.
But right now, Dead felt very very far away. Too far away.
She reached up to the desk and grabbed the last box. Maybe this was from her biological mother as well. She tore into the paper, ripped off the tape on the box, and opened it to find a book. She frowned. On the cover was a picture of her and Dead. She was walking down the alleyway of the arena away from the camera, human, dressed in her cowgirl boots and hat, her hand resting on the massive shoulder of Dead’s bull.
With a soft gasp, she lifted the photobook from the bubble wrap that had protected it and turned to the first page.
A Week to Remember it read, with a picture of her, Dead, and the rest of the herd sitting on a fence at one of the practice bucking chutes they’d stopped at that week. Cheyenne had put her camera on an automatic timer for this picture.
This was from Cheyenne.
Awed, she turned the page over and pressed her hand to her pounding heart as she looked at all the beautiful memories Cheyenne had captured.
A picture of her talking to fans with Dead the first night they met while he signed autographs. He was looking up at her, smiling like she hung the moon.
A picture of them standing under the VIP sign, only inches apart as she looked up into his eyes with raw emotion.
A picture of Raven sitting in the lawn chair by Dead’s camper, mid-laugh as he talked to her from where he stood near the grill, flipping a steak.
A picture of her and Dead dancing, Raven’s eyes closed, a soft smile on her lips as she rested her cheek against his chest.
A slew of pictures from the day of mudding. One of her through the window of Dead’s truck, cracking up right along with Dead. One of Dead carrying her away from the muddy pit that they’d pushed Two Shots’ truck out of, both covered in filth. Raven was waving at Cheyenne in that one with a goofy grin on her face.
Had she ever looked so happy in pictures before?
She kept turning the pages and got lost in the memories.
Gas stations. Raven holding two cases of beer in her hands while she ran to Dead’s truck. Practice arenas. A closeup of Dead’s hand in her back pocket, cupping her butt while they watched Quickdraw buck. One of her giving him a playful shove and the next of him tossing her over his shoulder. One of Dead leading her into a restaurant, holding her hand.
Three of her laughing with Two Shots and Quickdraw while they were pumping gas into their trucks on opposite sides of the same pump. Pictures of them hanging out in Dead’s camper, and then Quickdraw’s and Two Shots’ campers. One of her and Dead in the buffet line for a little pancake breakfast Cheyenne had made for them.
One of her on Dead’s back, riding piggyback style while he talked. By the red in her cheeks, he was probably saying something perverted.
Her first buck in that practice arena. That collage took up a full spread of the book. It was the boys’ reactions, the whooping cheers they let off, her mid-flight while she bucked…the pride on Dead’s face when she changed back.
Raven was crying again, but this time it wasn’t over a broken heart. She was crying because these pictures made her happy down to her soul.
The next pages were of her bucking in the arena. There had to be ten pictures on this spread. It was the sparkles of the camera flashes behind her as she was frozen mid-air, Buster holding on for dear life. One had Dead cheering for her. One was of her family, Annabelle, and Liam in their VIP box, all standing, cheering their guts out for her. Cheyenne had captured her victory laps and Dead’s look of utter pride as he stared at Hagan’s Lace. She got the scoreboard with her forty-one-point-four. She got the final rankings on the board, Hagan’s Lace taking fifth place for that single event. Quickdraw at one, Dead at two, Two Shots at third place.
She’d gotten pictures of them all hanging out with Raven’s family and Annabelle afterward, a group photo, all smiles, all genuine happiness.
The last part drew her heart into her throat.
The spread was covered with small, square pictures of Dead. Dozens of them. In each, he was looking down at his phone. It looked like he was texting or checking messages. Her messages. There were a couple of him sitting by himself watching a sunset. The sadness in his eyes in those two photos hurt.
She knew that kind of sadness intimately.
It was hers as well, being away from him.
She turned the page, expecting to find a blank one, and she did. It was blank, but not empty. There was a clear sleeve with a folded letter inside.
Cheyenne wrote:
Dear
