Shooter’s crestfallen eyes lift, meeting mine from across the room, and my heart aches for him. “I just…” he starts, brushing his open palm over the top of his head. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. I can’t keep living with this weight, this hopeless, never-good-enough feeling. I think I need some time away from the rodeo. Some time to figure out what I really want. To figure shit out without the daunting feeling of each new rodeo on my back.”
“And you’re sure this is what you want?” Even as I ask the question, I know the answer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shooter look more sure of anything.
He nods. “I’m not saying I’m walking away for good. I just can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing. I need some time away tofigure out if I really want this for me, or if I want this for him. And if it’s the latter, I don’t want it anymore.”
Rolling the chair across the carpet, I come to a stop in front of the bed, loving the way his eyes track my movement. I reach out, taking his hand in mine. “I think you should do whatever you feel is right, regardless of how that’ll make anybody feel. Your happiness and your mental health matters more than what anybody else wants from you right now, Shooter. And if that means taking some time to step away, then I think you should.” A thought forms in my mind, but I pause for a moment, unsure how he’ll take it. “Have you thought about maybe talking to someone about this. You know, like a professional?”
Shooter’s eyebrows knit together tightly. “Like a therapist?”
I nod. “Yeah. Maybe they could help you work through all these thoughts running through your mind, and help you sort out your feelings toward the rodeo and your dad, and I don’t know, maybe help you figure out if you really do want to quit the rodeo, or if maybe you resent it a little because of your dad and the discrepancy between you and Daisy in his eyes.” Shrugging, I add, “It’s just a thought, but it probably couldn’t hurt.”
“Please, come here,” he croaks, voice broken and barely louder than a whisper. With my hand still in his, he pulls me onto his lap, and without hesitation, I bury my face into the crook of his neck. His body is coiled tight, but it relaxes some now that I’m pressed against him, and his scent fills my nostrils, making my head feel light. I savor his warmth, pressing my lips down on his flesh. “Thank you,” he murmurs, hands rubbing up and down along my back.
“You don’t need to thank me for anything.”
Shooter turns his face, nose rubbing around in my hair as he inhales. “Yes, I do,” he insists. “I don’t think you know how much you being here, listening to me, and even offering to try to help, means to me. You’re the first person I’ve ever opened up to aboutthe shit that goes on between my dad and I, and I just…” He clears his throat, and I can hear the emotion thick between his words. “Just thank you, Sterling. For being here. It means a lot.”
I sit up, palms flat on his chest as I let the enormity of this moment blanket us. The sincerity in his tone, the appreciation in his expression, and the way he looks up at me like he may crumble if I weren’t right here to ground him. It’s heavy, the weight of his gaze. Shooter’s hand comes up, fisting the material on the front of my shirt as he pulls my mouth down on his. His lips are pillow soft and greedy as they part, tongue slipping between mine, licking in every corner he can reach.
Unfettered need explodes inside of me as my body melts into his, fully submersing myself in this kiss. He’s kissing me like he’s trying to convey every single thought in his mind that he doesn’t know how to put words to. My hands come up, cupping his rough, stubbled cheeks, and when he sucks on the tip of my tongue, I can’t help the groan that bubbles up my throat.
Shooter brings his hands to my hips, gripping onto me with bruising strength before he flips us. Not breaking the kiss, he positions himself between my spread legs, which I gladly wrap around him, holding him as close to me as possible. With every stroke of his tongue against mine, my heart feels frayed and wide open for him. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I could deny the way I feel about Shooter anymore, just like he can’t either.
Things are changing between us, and even though that fact makes me nervous as hell, I can’t even pretend to be mad about it. He makes me feel free, like I can do anything. I can be anyone. And I hope I do the same for him. I hope he feels safe with me, to be who he really is, to want what he really wants.
We’re both rock hard, but neither of us moves to take this any further than making out. It’s thrilling, even though I feel like I’m going to explode any second from overflowing desire. I couldn’t even say how long we sit there, him on top of me, kissing like wemay never get the chance again, but by the time we break apart, we’re out of breath, lips swollen and cherry red, eyes dazed and a little glossy.
It's wild to think that the sweet man towering over me right now on my bed, with emotion so deep and thick swimming in his gaze, is the same cocky man from all those months ago in the bathroom at a bar, taking exactly what he wanted from me. Oh, how time can change so much.
32
Shooter Graham
Iconsidered going down to the bar and getting shitty wasted all day, but that required more brain power than I currently possess. So, instead, I’m parked on my couch in my pajamas with crappy re-runs on the TV, feeling sorry for myself. There’s not even any beer here because, up until a few days ago, I had planned on leaving to finish the circuit. I didn’t bother restocking, meaning I can’t even get pathetically drunk in the privacy of my own home.
Probably for the best.
The crew left today for their next stop. While I’d made up my mind and knew I wasn’t going with them, it didn’t really hit me until this morning. It’s like the gravity of my decision hasn’t sunk in yet, but it’s starting to, and the doubt is beginning to creep up on me. Did I make the wrong choice? Am I being a fool for risking my career over this? Am I going to regret it when finals come, and I can’t compete?
My gut reaction is to say no, I’m not making the wrong choice, that I’m not being a fool, but I have no way of knowing for sure.
Sterling and Cope stopped by on their way out of town this morning, claiming to want to drop off a hat I left in the camper, but I’m convinced Sterling just wanted to see me one last time. I’d imagine he’s going to miss seeing this cute face every day, even though he’d never admit it.
It’s going to be weird not seeing him all the time after being around him in such close quarters for the last few months. It wasn’t until this morning when he kissed me goodbye that I realized how attached I’ve become to Sterling without even realizing it. He’s about to be gone, on the road where I should be, while I’m here, hoping like hell to figure my shit out.
We made plans to stay in touch, and we agreed to not see other people during the time, so I, at least, have that going for me. I turn down the TV, huffing out a laugh at the thought. Never in a million years did I think something likethatwould make me so happy.Monogamy.
Boy, how the fucking times have changed.
Raising off the couch, I head to the bathroom to empty my bladder before grabbing some water and chips from the kitchen. As I’m walking back, a pounding sounds at my door, and my stomach drops. First instinct has me thinking it’s my dad, and he somehow already found out I stayed back. My palms immediately start to sweat as I set my snack down on the coffee table and meander to the door.
Before I can even reach the handle, whoever it is on the other side bangs hard enough to rattle it. “Hold your fucking horses, I’m coming,” I grumble.
Yanking the door open, I come face to face with a very annoyed looking Daisy. She shoves past me, not even bothering to wait for an invitation.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, confused. “You should’ve been on the road by now.”
Spinning to face me, she points a finger in my direction. “Funny, I could say the same thing for you. And while we’re on the topic of being on the road, please tell me why the hell I had to find out from Copeland and Sterling that you are supposedlyquitting?”
