Sometimes a bull rider can be disqualified and therefore receive a no-score even if he stays aboard his designated bull for eight seconds. A bull rider is disqualified if he touches the bull or himself with his free hand during the ride or if his riding hand comes free from the bull rope at any point during the eight-second ride.
“What did you do with him?”
Opening my eyes, I try to imagine what Grayer must have seen. Not only in the truck, but with me now. I probably look like shit. Black makeup smeared all over my wet face, hair all over the place, eyes puffed up and tired.
“I didn’t do anything with him.” I drop my eyes to the ugly carpet. It really is horrendous. My heart pounds against my ribs and I debate on how much more to say. Surely he doesn’t want to know the truth.
Grayer’s entire body tenses and heats up. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. What. Did. He. Do?”
He thinks I’m lying to him.
His voice is hard and demanding. I stare at him, a wildfire brewing behind blue-eyed envy. “What the fuck did he do to you before I came outside?”
So much for only asking one more time.
My body trembles, my words shaking. “Nothing. I stopped him before anything happened.”
His eyes drop to my lips. I shake my head and the next thing I know, Grayer is on his knees in front of me, holding my face in his hands. “Did he . . . fuck you?” The words come out half-strangled, like even he can’t bear to say them.
My tears fall, drowning my vision in the bad decisions weighing me down. I don’t see Grayer at the moment. I see Jamie and the look on his face that night. It mirrors Grayer’s now. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Did he fucking hurt you?”
“No, you did.”
Grayer slumps back against the bed, his hands in his hair. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
I don’t like the way he apologizes. It’s just words with no meaning. It’s like he’s looking at something he’s broken, destroyed, and is now trying to piece back together. Like I’m another situation he has to clean up.
“That’s a shitty apology!” I yell louder than necessary. I’m pretty sure the people next door heard me. “You should be looking at me when you say it, not at the floor.”
Grayer pulls me to his side. But he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps me against him. Twisting his head, he watches my face closely, my desperation evident. With a frustrated sigh, wanting to get up and leave, but knowing I can’t in this storm, my head leans against the side of the bed.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice heavy as he wraps a towel around his bleeding hand.
I shake my head. I never want to look at him again. Anger rises in me, heating and prickling my skin.
“Do you think I wanted to hurt you?” he whispers, hanging his head, his forearms resting on his knees that are pulled up. His hands find his face.
“Seemed that way. You told me to leave.” My tears constrict my words, so relentless they won’t quit. “And now what? Because you saw me with someone else you’ve suddenly changed your mind? I’m not some piece of property you can just take back when you decide it’s your turn. I’ve lived like that and I never will again. Not even for you.” The words come out in a rush, as if all of a sudden they flooded my brain and needed to come out all at once before I can breathe right. But even then, once they’re said, I can’t.
“I’m not saying that.”
Why try swimming when you’re drowning inside? Can’t he see he’s the one sinking the ship?“Then what are you saying? Because it’s confusing. You told me to leave.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t because you forget, your brother fell for Haylee. Remember?” I ask, my chest heavy from my labored breaths. “Or did you forget that already? Apparently Ty can have love and bull riding. You can’t.”
“You should have just left,” he mumbles, so quietly I’m not sure I hear him correctly. I can hear the wind whipping around outside, hitting the window with what could be a tornado. I don’t care at this point.
“Why?” I whisper over my tears and pounding heart. I count the beats as I wait for him to reply, give me an indication as to what he means by that. “Why did you want me to leave so bad?”
“Because I knew what was happening between us. You wanted me in ways I couldn’t give you,” he says, that desperation returning. I look at him then, needing to see his eyes.
My breath rushes out with the words, “You never gave it a chance. You gave it a few weeks and decided for yourself I wasn’t what you needed.”
“Is that why you left with Henry?”
