Page 112 of Tame Our Wild

I stay rooted, everything around me slowing until all I hear is my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. It mutes the crew’s voices as they yell at me to get on the bull.

One side of my heart is reaching for Black Magic, trying to grasp onto this ride like it’s the next defining thing in my life, but honestly, in this moment, I’m not sure it is. Because the other half of my heart is reaching for the man in the stands.

I start backing away from the chute. It’s not nerves. Instead, it’s a feeling I’ve had for a while, but haven’t wanted to acknowledge.

Our lifetime is made up of a series of moments. A sequence of decisions. A collision of feelings that change and morph as we ride through an unpredictably beautiful and messy life.

“Harlow, you’re wasting time. If you don’t hurry up, this will be a disqualified ride, and you’ll get a score of zero,” one of the chute staff barks.

Colson was right in his interview with Kickin’ Up Dust before the season started. I got lucky that Lucas Abbot dropped out.

If I walk away from this, it doesn’t mean I have to stop working or chasing my goal—because I love this sport. It’s a part of me in ways I’ll never shake. More importantly, I’m hopelessly and recklessly in love with the man I once thought provoked me in the worst way, only to awaken the part of me I’d lost.

I don’t have anything to prove.

Not to my competitors.

Not to the spectators.

Not to the girls watching me who hope to be in my place one day.

Because what’s louder than being here on the back of this bull is righting my wrongs and coming back stronger.

The old Harlow would’ve gotten on Black Magic and ridden anyway, but I back away from the chute, knowing I’ve changed.

I remove my helmet. “Then I’ll get a zero. I have something more important I need to prove.”

Turning, I ignore the frustrated and concerned looks that flash my way as I bolt down the platform stairs toward the back, where the space is open with the bull pens. Staff members, media, and riders are everywhere, some of them looking at me strangely, but I’m not interested in them; I’m interested in finding the 6’2” cocky bull rider who lit the fire under my ass years ago. Now, as I search for him, I think a part of me has always burned for him.

Not hesitating, I run across the space toward the direction of the stands where he was sitting. My heart thunders as I round a corner of the chute platform closest to the stands. Out of nowhere, I hit a hard wall, the mass knocking me backward. A strong pair of hands grips my forearms, holding me steady.

My face tilts upward, those turquoise eyes set under the shadow of his cowboy hat imprisoning mine. “Harlow? What are you doing, you’re supposed to be riding!”

Thank the lord he can still get back here. I would do this in front of a crowd if I had to, but I’m glad it’s just us. Well, our competitors and team are still around, but I don’t care.

Concern is written all over Colson’s handsome features. He doesn’t let go of me, so I drop my helmet to my feet, my hands reaching up to find stability in the way my fingers clench onto his biceps.

I exhale and inhale rapidly, shaking my head. “I can’t do it.”

“What? Yes, you can—”

“You deserve to be out there. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Lucas dropping out at the last minute. I’m not scared to admit it anymore. You were right.”

His dark brows collide as he shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t.” He points in the direction of the chute. “You’ve worked your ass off and should be on the back of Black Magic right now.”

My chest is caving in from the adrenaline, but I push through it. “I don’t deserve to be here right now. But it doesn’t mean I won’t.”

His eyes search mine, his irises dancing with questions. “Harlow, I quit because I don’t want this anymore. This is no longer my dream.”

“What do you want?” I nearly whisper.

His hand lifts, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair from my ponytail behind my ear. “I think you know what I want.” A sharp breath escapes me. “But, more importantly, what is it that you want?”

I swallow, the admission pouring out of me like the sweetest relief. “I want to keep working toward the professional league because I love it, and because I know I’m not finished. I don’t want to give up.”

“Harlow, you don’t have to. That’s why I did what I did.”

“That’s not all.” I reach for his hand, stroking my thumb over his knuckles. “I’d give up everything tonight in a heartbeat if it means I can tell you how I honestly feel about you. About us.”