Page 10 of Lost Trust

“When, Royce?”

I rub the back of my neck. “A couple of weeks. Sometime after the wedding.”

She actually laughs. “Tomorrow.”

I shake my head. “You know good and damn well it’s going to be a late night, and I’ve got sponsor appearances in the morning.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeats.

“We fly out in the afternoon.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Jovie—”

“Royce.” Her voice softens. “I know what this sport means to you.” She glances back toward the celebration, where Axle’s laughter echoes down the hallway. “But I also know what happens when cowboys ignore injuries because they’re afraid of what a doctor might say.”

I stare at the floor.

“I’d rather tell you that you need rotator surgery now than tell you in six months that you have a complete rupture and require massive reconstruction surgery—or worse, I’d hate to see you attempt to ride with a compromised shoulder and put added stress on your neck and spine and end up paralyzed because you’re being a stubborn asshole.”

That one lands.

Before I can answer, one of the event coordinators pokes his head into the hallway. “There you are! They’re bringing out the whiskey.”

Jovie sighs. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll address it before I get back on a bull.”

I can see she doesn’t like that answer, but she lets it go for now because she wants to be out there, celebrating my brother, as much as I do at the moment.

The second we step into the restaurant, every conversation seems to stop, and applause rolls through Colton’s Smokehouse as people stand from tables, raising beer bottles and hats in the air. Someone whistles loud enough to rattle the mounted antlers hanging above the bar.

Axle freezes for half a second. As much as he loves the attention in the arena, he’s never liked being the center of it on the outside.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have much of a choice tonight.

Bryce claps him on the back hard. “Better get used to it, Champ. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Axle shoots him a look over his shoulder. “I’m already tired.”

Bryce laughs. “Oh, you just wait until tomorrow. The interview rounds are going to be brutal. And Outlaw Heritage is going to have you smiling at photographers until your cheeks hurt.”

Outlaw Heritage is a hat company that makes quality cowboy hats. They’re also Axle’s biggest sponsor at the moment.

“Fuck. I’d rather ride another rank bull or ten,” Axle groans.

Our private room sits toward the back of the restaurant, already buzzing with familiar faces. Stock contractors. Pickup men. Bullfighters. Sponsors. And media folks who’ve somehow become family after years on tour.

Every seat is full, except the ones saved for us.

The second we walk in, all conversations die.

Axle gets choked up as he thanks everyone on our team.

One of the servers appears, carrying an entire tray loaded with unopened bottles of Bull Rope Whiskey.

“Courtesy of the owner,” she says with a grin. “He insists the new world champion shouldn’t have to buy his own drinks.”