Page 54 of Untamed
My heart races, my stomach knotting, wondering if this is the last few moments of my life. Hammer’s instinct is to hook me with his horns and judging by the pure hatred in his eyes, it’s what he’s intending on doing. That website was right. This is the most dangerous eight seconds of your life.
I hear my heart beating in my ears, roaring like a freight train and it’s so loud it almost blocks out Hammer’s breathing. At first, I’m not sure if I’m okay, but I’m on the ground at least. All the air in my lungs is expelled and I’m pretty sure I’ve dislocated or broken something. If I could breathe, I’d be able to assess the situation a bit more, but I’m staring at this tank on four legs about to plow right over me. Breathing seems silly. Getting up and running would be the logical answer, but then he’d get me from behind. Might as well face my fear head on, right?
Wrong. Riding a bull? Pfft. Definitelynotthe most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.
Just as Hammer’s about to charge toward me, I hear to my left, “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” As Grayer runs toward me, his arms flailing as he tries to direct Hammer to him. Hammer goes and charges him, but loses interest when Grayer steps up on the fence to avoid him. Hammer takes off the other direction, back out of the arena as Joel opens the gate.
Grayer runs to me where I’m lying in the dirt and scoops me up in one fluid motion. He’s got me in his arms and on the other side of the fence where he sets me gingerly on a bale of hay. Once I’m sitting up straight, my soreness begins to emerge.
Before I can process anything that my injuries might be, I hear Dad yell, “Maesyn, what was that noise? Is Hammer out?”
“No!” I yell back, clutching my side in pain as my lungs expand. “Everything’s fine.”
Grayer’s eyes widen as he looks at me and then Joel, who followed us. There is tension in his stare, his voice, and the white knuckles. He turns, facing me, leaving Joel glaring at him in disbelief. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
His question is directed at Joel, not me. I expected his reaction would be different, but I also thought I would have stayed on the bull, so clearly I’m no judge here.
“Just because you’re a pro, don’t mean shit to me.” Joel spits, holding onto pent-up frustration from their argument the other night.
I try to speak, again, tell them to relax before they get in another fight, but the motion causes me to wince and clutch my side. Christ, this hurts. I wonder if I broke a rib?
Clenching his fists, Grayer most definitely wants to beat the shit out of Joel for allowing this, but I’m in pain and he knows that tending to me is important at this point. There’s also a chance my dad’s gonna walk out here and find me hurt, covered in dirt and Hammer in a different field than he had him in before, and then what? Grayer’s the bull rider. He’s gonna think he did this and that’s the last thing Grayer needs my dad to think.
I’ll admit, I didn’t exactly plan any of this out. And then I’m a little mad at Joel for not talking me out of it. It has me wanting to place blame on anyone but myself.
Despite not wanting to cause a scene, Grayer stands from kneeling beside me and gets in Joel’s face.
Grayer gives Joel a shove. “Get lost, man.”
“You’re not her dad, man.” Joel refuses to back down. “She can fuck whoever she wants.”
Of course he throws that up. He’s such a child.
Grayer raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What was that?”
“I said—” Joel tries to step forward, ready for a fight, but his words fall short.
Grayer grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him against his chest. His knuckles white, eyes dark and threatening under the shadows of his hat. “You could have killed her letting her get on that bull. You had no fuckin’ business allowing her to do that. Now you listen to me, you little fucker.” Grayer lets go of Joel’s shirt and shoves him back against the side of the barn. “I said get lost, and I meant it. Go home.”
Grayer doesn’t wait for Joel to say anymore and kneels beside me, his hands on my knees. “Come with me.”
I can tell by the way he’s watching me, his scowl a little meaner, he hates what I’ve done. His disappointed eyes tell me so. I thought mean Grayer was awful. Turns out disappointed Grayer is even worse.
I stare at my dirt-caked feet wondering what just happened. It seems that anytime I’m around him things don’t go as planned.
When I don’t make an attempt to get up, Grayer grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
“No.” I wiggle my hand from his, crossing my arms stubbornly over my chest, as painful as that motion is.
“Get up, Maesyn,” he growls at me. I have a feeling he doesn’t get told no very often. By anyone. And when he does, he’s not pleased.
“Why should I? You hate me.” I’m trying to act like I don’t care. Only I do. So much.
“I have some things to say to you and I’m not doing it while you’re sitting on a hay bale in the fucking dirt near a bull you just attempted to kill yourself on. Now get up.”
I look at his extended hand, and then his face, finally seeing what I’ve been looking for. It’s in the fragile bloodshot eyes and the set frown. He’s tortured by this. He wants to hate me, but can’t. He’s drawn to me too.
My cheeks flush with anger, our gazes locked. Bringing myself to my feet, I start to limp toward the house, not caring what my dad’s gonna say.
