From the start of the season, Dylan had competed in every rodeo he could register for and had won almost every event. No concussions, broken bones, or damaged organs. I’d been fine all those other times, but this was the ride that kept me awake all last night.
He’d come into the world finals at number one and sixteen hundred points in the lead, but he’d been bucked off in rounds four and five, so it all came down to tonight’s fifteen-man final round.
“I know. I know, but that won’t stop me from worrying.”
She patted my hand in reassurance. “Mason is with him. Tyler is there too. Have faith.”
I followed Tricia into the area reserved for our family.
No one sat; they were all too nervous. His mom and his sisters held hands while his brothers and cousins jiggled their feet and made stupid jokes in an attempt to ease the tension.
Eminem’s Lose Yourself pumped from the speakers, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
My heart felt like it had crept up from my chest to my throat.
Dylan was in the chute with a helmet firmly on his head. He placed his foot on the bull’s back—Satan’s Little Helper—the beast who’d caused the concussion last year.
The gate slammed open, and the bull charged out.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven…
Eight...
The arena erupted. He jumped off the bull, looked in our direction and waved.
He’d done it.
Bone shaking relief pushed me into my seat.
I held my breath waiting for the score, but his face said what we all already knew. He’d won the gold buckle.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, his voice booming through the speakers. “Dylan Willows, our new PBR World Champion.”
Fireworks blasted. Music blared, and Dylan pulled off his helmet and threw it to one side.
He took the microphone from the commentator, Fitzroy Evans—a three-time world champion—who was now by his side and looked up to the sky.
“I did it, Dad,” he said, his voice breaking. “I did it for you.”
I hadn’t thought it was possible to love him any more than I already did, but in that moment, he stole my heart all over again. I draped an arm over his mom’s shoulder, who was dabbing her eyes, and hugged her close.
Fitzroy nodded in empathy. “I bet he’s looking down at you and smiling. How you feeling?”
“On top of the world,” Dylan replied, sounding out of breath.
“After your fall last year in Nashville on the same bull, did you have something to prove?”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to prove to myself that wearing a helmet had no bearing on how I rode. Also wanted to prove to myself I could win, but this win wasn’t for me, it was for my dad.” His lip trembled, but he didn’t allow himself to breakdown.
“Do you have anything you want to say to everyone watching?”
Dylan took a second to regain his composure. “No matter how many times life knocks you down, bucks you off, or kicks you in the chest, pick yourself up and keep trying. Never give up.”
“Wise words,” Fitzroy said and grinned. “What’s next for you?”
“Glad you asked. I got married a while back and have a baby on the way. It’s time for me to hang up my spurs and focus on other things like training horses and being the best daddy and husband in the world.”
My heart stilled. He hadn’t told me he’d planned on announcing his retirement. Retiring from the circuit wasn’t something I’d ever ask him to do. I would’ve supported him if he wanted to ride for the rest of his life, but at the same time, I felt thankful I’d never have to worry about him cracking his head open or getting trampled to death.
When his interview was over and the awards ceremony complete, I rushed to the locker room, and the second I saw him, I flung my arms around his neck and held him tight. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He stroked his hands through my hair. “Until the words came out of my mouth, I didn’t know. They were as much of a shock to me as they were to everyone else. I’ve achieved all I want to achieve in this chapter of my life. Now it’s time to move on and focus on you and our baby.” He stepped back and rubbed a hand over my bump. “I want to be there for both of you. I don’t want you fretting or worrying I’m going to get hurt.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”
“Only every day, but I can’t say I mind hearing the words.”
“I. Love. You,” I said, punctuating every word with a kiss.
There wasn’t a luckier woman alive. He was my lover, my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the only person who could talk me out of the rabbit hole I often went down or off the ledge I often climbed on.
His smiling lips met mine, and he kissed me in a way that told me we’d be together forever. “Let’s go home and shut out the rest of the world for a while.”
“I can’t think of anything that sounds better, cowboy.”
The End
About the Author
Cora York adores steamy stories about sassy women and the sexy men who push them to their limit. But, these days, thanks her job as a full-time domestic goddess and kid-chauffeur, she no longer has the luxury of sitting down to read full-length romance novels. To get her fix, she created Quick Reads for Fast Lives—all the romance in a fraction of the time.
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