Page 57 of Untamed
Eight seconds is the amount of time a bull rider must stay aboard his bull to receive a score. During the eight-second ride, the bull rider cannot touch his free hand to the bull or himself or he will be disqualified.
A scattered pink sunset fades in over the Cascade mountain range. Grayer and I sit together, talking quietly and drinking straight from the bottle. The sky turns a vibrant orange, dancing over the field, hanging on, giving every last piece of light it has to give until it’s swallowed up by the land. There is so much beauty in the sky above me it’s hard to look away from.
“When did he die?” Grayer asks, handing me the bottle and then dipping the white rag in his hand in a bucket of warm water.
What? Who?
“What are you talking about?” Lying on a hay bale, I shoot him a look of complete confusion. My shirt’s off leaving me in my jean shorts and bra, and the sight isn’t fazing Grayer one bit. Nope. He’s asking me who died.
“Jamie,” he says, voice soft and eyes low. “Your boyfriend. When did he die?”
The moment he says “your boyfriend” the pain hits me so hard it’s like Hammer speared my soul with his horns.
Oh God, there’s that pain.That overwhelming, consuming, horrendous pain I’ve kept hidden for so long. It’s like a blinding hot dagger to my heart hearing his name. No one ever mentions it anymore and hasn’t for years. They’ve forgotten or pretend to have forgotten, but I haven’t. I never can. Never will. A life taken way too young and a reminder that nothing lasts forever. When I was in a constant state of mourning, Mom used to say to me, “Nothing lasts forever, baby. But your memories will. They’ll get you through anything.”
After Jamie died, I began to hate every memory that involved him and wished I could erase them. When I couldn’t, I never mentioned his name or ever acted as if I remembered that time in my life. But I did. Memories likethat, they never leave.
“Four years ago. Labor Day weekend,” I choke out, barely able to speak the words. My eyes sting when I picture the stretch of road he died on and the flowers his mom still plants around the cross.
Grayer nods, squinting into the sun filtering in through the stalls. Gently, he presses the cool rag to my bare ribs and wipes the mud away to reveal the making of bruises on my torso.
“He died in a car accident, right?” His voice is soft. He’s not pushing, he’s just asking.
My eyes burn as I look out to the cornfield, beyond that, a dry, dusty land with nothing to offer me but pastures and hay fields. The land’s one color, just like my mind. I wasn’t always this way. I used to be a spirited girl so full of life that I never stopped smiling. I guess I’m still spirited, but a part of me is missing. I had my entire life planned at ten. Everything. Where I was going to go to college, where I would live and the boy I would marry. Jamie Peterson. All that changed when I saw him buried. Nothing made sense anymore. Life stopped when I was fourteen. Suddenly I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted besides out of this town.
It’s taken me four years to even think about that day. I buried my heart right next to him that day, and I told myself to forget it. There will always be a missing piece of me in that grave. A piece that should stay there forever, where it belongs. My innocence. My childhood.
“You don’t owe anything to Joel, Maesyn. You think you do, but you didn’t get in that car with Jamie. You didn’t take that corner at a hundred. Jamie did.”
Grayer’s way more perceptive than I’ve been giving him credit for. He was still around when Jamie died. At least I think he was, he had to be to remember those details.
“Did you know Jamie?”
Grayer nods, wringing out the rag again and running it over my legs as he wipes away dirt to reveal more bruises forming. “I did. He was a good kid.”
God, does it hurt to hear him say that. Jamie was a good kid. So much better than Joel and me. I think that’s why Joel is the way he is. He’s not even trying to be the twin brother living in the shadows of the great person Jamie would have been.
“How did you know him?”
Grayer gives me a soft smile, leaning his elbows on his knees when he sets the rag back in the bucket. “His dad knew Stanton, and I rode a couple rodeos with them.”
“Stanton’s your dad, right?” I know this, but I don’t want to let on to how much I know about him.
“Yeah.”
His face is closer than before, but not as close as I want him to be. I want him to hold me. Wrap his strong arms around me and offer comfort I’ve never been able to find since Jamie. “How long did it take you to figure out Joel was his brother?”
“Not long.” He smiles, but I can’t see his eyes anymore. They’ve dropped to the floor and I know he’s about to say something that holds meaning. I’ve noticed he does that when he’s speaking from his heart. “Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction.” He speaks slowly, his voice soft, but raspy and then our eyes meet, and he waits for my reaction.
The words settle over me like I’m trying to understand what he means by them. I kinda know, but I’m not entirely sure.
“Who said that?”
“I’m not sure who originally said it.” Grayer runs the back of his hand over his forehead as he stands and puts distance between us. “My pops used to tell us that when we were kids.” He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s pretty good advice if you ask me.”
I nod. “It is.” And then I have a bit of word vomit and ask, “Do you miss your dad?” It’s a stupid question, but I don’t know how close they were and that’s my way of trying to find out.
“Yeah, I do. He was sick for a long time, so it didn’t come as a shock when he died. We knew it was coming. Still wasn’t any easier.”
