“See. This is why I didn’t tell you. It’s not some treasured gift I’m holding on to, or some sentimental thing. I wanted to have sex with you, and you wanted to have sex with me. Why should anything else matter?”
Before I can answer, the front door opens and Conrad appears, glancing between the two of us before landing on me. “Ready?”
“Yup. Let’s go.” He brushes past us, heading down the stairs, and before I follow, I lean in close to Sterling and tell him quiet enough for only him to hear, “Because you deserve more than a dingy shower stall for your first fucking time, Sterling. That’s why it fucking matters.”
Pulling back, we hold eye contact, the look in his gaze unreadable. If I had to guess, he’s confused about where that came from, and if I’m being honest with myself, I am too. Why do I care so much? If this were anybody else, I wouldn’t give a shit. I’ve taken people’s virginities multiple times, in places a lot less pleasant than a shower, but with Sterling, it always feels different.Hefeels different.
He opens his mouth like he may say something, but I don’t give him the chance. I follow after Conrad, climbing into his truck, and leave without a second glance. Conrad doesn’t bother asking any questions on the ride back to my place. Not that I expected him to, but I appreciate it nonetheless. My mind is a fucking mess over what I just learned and how weird it’s making me feel.
Why wouldn’t Sterling tell me that? Why keep it a secret?
26
Shooter Graham
My week has gone from bad to worse.
After I left the ranch the other day, Sterling and I haven’t spoken at all. Neither of us has reached out to the other to talk about this shit I overheard, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. I want to talk to him, but at the same time, I don’t. I wouldn’t know what to say. And what’s most annoying is that I don’t even fully understand why I’m so angry about the whole situation. It’shisvirginity. He doesn’t owe me anything. Not a damn thing. I know that. Yet, I’m pissed he didn’t tell me. I’m pissed at myself for not figuring it out, and for fucking him for the first time the way I did. Not that I had any way of knowing, but still.
While Sterling hasn’t tried to reach out to me, Daisy sure as fuck has. She’s getting on my last goddamn nerve. I’ve ignored every call and every text, but I can’t ignore her for long because we have dinner with our folks tonight—something I’m dreading more than the conversation that’s sure to happen between my sister and me.
Stampede Days begins tomorrow, meaning our short break is over. Normally, I look forward to Stampede Days week. The atmosphere is incredible, the whole town comes together to put it on, and getting to compete on home ground is usually exciting.Usuallybeing the keyword here, because this year, I can think of thirty other things I’d rather do than compete in my father’s presence.
I’m dreading it. The whole fucking event.
And this fucking dinner tonight. Daisy and my dad, they both can fuck off.
After spending the afternoon at the gym working out, I head home and shower, changing into a clean pair of jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a baseball hat. Checking the time, I know I need to leave. I’m running late on purpose, but if I wait any longer, my mom will rip me a new one. I do feel bad, because I am excited to see her, but it’s hard to be excited when I’m dreading seeing everybody else who’ll be there.
She understands the rodeo, and the insane pressure we put on ourselves, to an extent because she’s stood by my dad’s side through his entire rodeo career, but she’s never been part of it firsthand. I know it frustrates her when my dad puts so much expectation on my shoulders, and I know she says stuff to him about it.
I check my phone one last time—seeing if maybe Sterling reached out finally, which he didn’t—before shoving it and my wallet into my pocket and grabbing my keys off the counter. Starting up my truck, I sit there for a moment, letting it warm up. I contemplate texting him myself. With the way I’m obsessively checking my phone, I obviouslywantto talk to him about this, but what would I even say? I said everything I wanted to say the other day, and he clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, so why should I be the one to reach out? I hate how much the urgeis there, the need to want to talk to him. When the fuck did that start?
My phone buzzes, but when I look down, disappointment courses through me when I see it’s not him. It’s my mom.
Mom: Boy, you better get your butt here already.
Laughter bubbles up my throat at her message as I type out a response.
Me: Sorry, running late, but I’m in my truck now. Be there soon.
My finger hovers over my text with Sterling for a few moments, but eventually, I lock my screen and shove it in the cup holder as I start my drive over to my parents’ house. Daisy, of course, is already there when I park in the driveway. Maybe I can stick close to my mom all night and avoid having to talk to her.
I should’ve known I could never be that lucky, though. Daisy’s like a piranha when she wants something. As soon as I’m out of my truck, she comes through the front door, hands on her hips while she waits for me to step up the stairs.
“Can I fucking help you?” I drawl.
“You’re ignoring me, big brother.”
“You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t fucking belong, little sister.” I try to walk around her toward the front door, but she places a hand on my chest, stopping me. “If you think I won’t pick your skinny ass up and punt you into the yard and out of my way, Daisy, you’re sorely mistaken. Get out of my way.”
“God, don’t be so freaking dramatic.” She laughs, stepping in front of me. “Will you just talk to me for a minute?”
“No! It’s none of your business. What don’t you get about that?”
“It is my business, Shooter. He’s my friend!”
I can feel my blood pressure rising the longer I stand here with her. Can she not take a fucking hint? “Yeah? Then talk to your friend about it, not me. Move.”
