Page 70 of Drifter’s Heart

West crouches over Dustan as I cling to my brother, holding tight. I could leave, but also I can’t. The precious thing in my world is holding me right now, and I’m glad that Sally didn’t come after all. Yes, the Valiant Peak Invitational is a family-friendly event, but our family has known enough tragedy at bulls’ hooves to scar us all.

And, unlike Cord, not all of us bear physical marks. Some of us carry our scar tissue on the inside.

Eventually the doc leaves, content that Dustan is as good as he says he is, and Dustan wraps an arm around West’s shoulder. The crowd cheers him twice as loud as he limps away from the patch of dust where we all thought history had repeated itself but hasn’t.

And tonight, every one of the Coyote Falls and Valiant Peak crews are grateful for that. Every face is open and smiling but drawn and glassy-eyed at the same time. Hands grab for West and Dustan as crew members help both men climb the rail. Dustan tumbles over the other side. Dylan is there, dressed in sunset orange, to catch him. Glitter and dust mingles in a small cloud when they share a kiss. I half expect some ribald comments from the group that traditionally doesn’t accept that sort of display—I grew up with this crowd—but I’m beyond pleased when all that erupts out is a few small cheers and a laugh or two.

West settles on the rail on my other side, tugging me away from Cord. “You okay?” he asks gruffly.

I peer up at him as he swipes my cheeks with a dirt-encrusted thumb. I’ll be filthy in seconds, but I don’t care. What I look like really doesn’t matter a whit right now. “How are you not crying?” I whisper, like that’s a big secret I need to keep between us, him a macho cowboy man and all.

The West of a week ago might have laughed at me. Tonight he watches my face like he’s memorizing every inch. “I ran out of tears back in a hospital hallway years ago. Remember?”

I’ve sat in so many hospital hallways and cried so many tears that they all blur in my memory. I shrug. “It’s all white. And cold. And⁠—”

He kisses me, gentle and deep and sweet and like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss me again.

And I know we’re going to be okay.

TWENTY-THREE

WEST

When Silence Falls

A sparkly trophy sits in the bunkhouse tonight, but it doesn’t have Dustan’s name on it. Another rider we put up for the night took it out, not one of our own. And I’m okay with that, seeing as Dylan got his moment in the limelight and Jesse got six seconds of kudos for Coyote Falls, even if he didn’t manage to stay on his bull until the bell. It was a tough ride, to be fair. And a few new riders are up-and-coming, whom I wish I could keep my eye on… but then I’ve got no reason to be here next year.

Dustan is looking at a circuit down south that’s calling to him, and Dylan seems to be all in on that ride. Coyote doesn’t have room for an old dust grunt who’s outgrown his usefulness, so that leaves me at a loose end right now.

“It’s a good night.” Winnie slides in under my arm, a thermos of coffee in her hands. She’s shivering, and still wearing the skintight jeans I want to peel from her later and the knitted white singlet thing, but she’s got hot coffee. Apparently that matters.

“What makes it a good night?” I kiss the top of her head, slotting her back against my chest, and loop an arm around her waist.

She’s right, though. It is a good night. The land is quiet, sleeping. Even the bunkhouse is silent with everyone down. In a few hours, dawn will break. I suspect we’ll still be up to see it. Just us, and no one else to interrupt the new day.

“You’re here.” Winnie gives me her weight, her trust. “I’m here.”

She’s right. It’s enough.

“I still don’t know what the future looks like.” For me. For us. Is there an us? She keeps asking. I keep promising.

After Dustan’s fall, I don’t know anymore. Maybe I never knew anything and have been kidding myself for far too long. Sure, he got up and earned himself a swollen ankle for his trouble. The bull trotted away and he’ll ride in the next rodeo. But hell, did my heart stop. And Winnie’s scream… I don’t know what went through her head or what she remembers, but I’ll never forget.

She saw her brother in the dust a third time. I know she did. Because I looked back over my shoulder once. Just once. And his name was on her lips, a name she sobbed in silence.

Or maybe I’ve blocked it out because I didn’t want to hear it again.

“We’re all damaged here.” I pull her in tighter, the words slipping free that I never meant to say.

She nods. “We are. And we’re stronger together.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?”

“I know it,” Winnie says with her personal brand of conviction, putting her thermos on the veranda railing before she twists in my arms. Her hands slide up my shirt as she rises on her tiptoes.

Warm breath brushes my mouth as I dip my head to meet her lips. “Should we do this here? ’Cause I’m not sure I want to hold back from touching you anymore,” I murmur against her mouth.

“I want…” she starts, but then drifts off as our lips meet in a slow kiss that evolves into something smooth and hot and completely unsuitable for anyone else to see.