Page 65 of Eight Seconds to Fly
Dylan’s phone began to ring in my hand and it was his sponsor. Not even Mechanica Tuff. His original sponsor. I dropped his phone like it burned me.
He jumped out of bed, answering the phone and putting it to his ear. “Steve. Yeah I saw. No I…” he was silent for a long time and his face drained of color. “It’s not like that I…” he was silent as whoever was on the other end reamed him out. Oh god.
I climbed out of bed, rushing to the bathroom and heaving. What the hell had we been thinking? We lived life in the public eye. Strong hands gripped my shoulders. “It will be okay,Querida.We will figure this out.”
I shook my head. I don’t know how. We’d fucked up majorly. Frankie pulled me to my feet, and turned me so I was forced to look him in the eye. “You listen to me, Tessa May. We have done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong.”
He led me back out into the bedroom, and Branch and Beau were there. Branch was on the phone, growling what sounded like threats down the end of the line. Beau looked between us all, his brow creased and an anxious expression on his face. When his eyes found me, he was across the room and had me pressed to his hard chest in an instant. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t my career going down the toilet. Maybe. The WBRP couldn’t fire me for this, without firing every rider who went and fucked the girls that swarmed the bars and parties every weekend. But I was a fool if I expected them not to hold me to a different standard.
Dylan hung up his phone, his hands shaking. “That was my manager. They are going to pull my sponsorship unless I sever any relationship with you. Machina Tuff is already distancing itself from me.”
The pain in my chest made me want to vomit again. “Dylan…”
Frankie’s jaw was tense. “What did you say?”
“I… I didn’t say anything.” He began pulling on his jeans and shirt, grabbing his hat as he headed toward the door. “I just gotta think. It’s not like it is for you guys. I can’t do this without a sponsor. I just... I have to think.”
The door slamming behind him made me whimper. Beau held me tighter. “It's going to be okay, Tessa May. He’ll be back. He loves you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t love me more than riding.”
Beau scoffed. “If you think that, then you’re blind, Tessa May Everett. Branch?” The man in question turned around, his face a thundercloud of rage.
“What?”
“If you had to choose between Tessa May and riding bulls, which would you choose?”
“Tessa May.”
He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t blink, he didn’t think about it. It was out of his mouth with absolute certainty. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “Seriously?”
If anything, that made Branch look even more pissed off. “You’ve known me a long time, Tessa May Everett. You know that once I’ve set my mind on something, there's no changing my mind. I loved you before I loved bull riding. I loved you before I even knew what love was. I’ll love you long after my body is too battered to get on a bull and when we are old and grey and your nipples touch your belly button.”
I made a weird sound that was somewhere between a snort, a laugh and a sob. “I love you too.”
Beau nuzzled my hair. “See? If I asked Frankie, he’d say the same thing.”
Frankie nodded. “In a heartbeat.”
“Dylan has had the least amount of time to get where we are, but girl, once you are in someone's soul, you are damn hard to shake. Trust me, I should know.” I let out a strangled little laugh and leaned into his chest. “Dylan will come to that conclusion, or he won’t. You are allowed to be sad about it, but give him the benefit of the doubt for now. We’ll have faith for a little longer, and if he doesn’t decide the way we hope, then we three will be here to hold you together until the pain goes away.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve these guys, but I thanked God every day that I had them.
“Now that’s settled, I think we should deal with the real issue at hand,” Branch interrupted.
I frowned. “How will the WBRP feel about this?”
He shook his head, his face getting a level of scary that a chill ran down my spine. “Fuck the WBRP. No, these photos were all taken in different locations with tele lenses, except the one of you and Dylan. Either you have a stalker or someone has you under surveillance.”
This time, the chill that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the men in this room, and everything to do with the world outside of Beau’s arms.
27
We had to check out at ten a.m. and when Dylan still wasn’t back, we loaded his gear into the truck and took it with us. We waited around in the parking lot for an hour, Beau blowing up his phone, but all his calls were going straight to voicemail. Finally we left, Frankie driving my truck and Branch in his. I could see Branch struggling, not being with me, but I needed the space anyway. Needed to comprehend this whole clusterfuck in silence. Frankie knew when I needed silence. We’d drive all the way to Mesquite today, on the Nevada/Arizona border. Without Dylan.
My phone rang and I almost ignored it. But it might be Dylan or someone for the WBRP.
