Boone’s watching me intently—in a way that makes me want to squirm. “What changed?”
I shrug, feeling emotionally exposed. “I don’t know. The idea of doing something I didn’t love—or even like—made me want to scream. Couldn’t do it anymore.”
“That makes sense,” Boone mutters, his heavy gaze still on me. “I can respect that. I wouldn’t want to do something I didn’t like either, or not be able to do the thing I love.”
“Did you ever get shit for wanting to ride bulls?”
“Oh, all the fucking time.” He huffs out a laugh.
“Really?”
Nodding, he says, “Oh, yeah. Not so much anymore, but in the beginning, for sure. My dad was always on board because he grew up in this world too, but my mom and my grandparents wanted something different for me. There’re so many variables that go into bull riding that can make or break your career, not to mention it’s dangerous as all hell.”
Yeah, that’s why it’s hot as hell,I think, but don’t dare speak out loud. Instead, I ask, “When did it stop? Like, when did they accept that this was your path?”
“I don’t think my grandparents will ever fully come around, but they at least don’t say anything to me about it. Not since I went pro. Same with my mom. I know she’s worried I’ll get hurt and be forced to retire that way, but she keeps that to herself, and instead, tells me how proud she is of me.”
It’s a fist to the gut hearing that because I know I’ll probably never get to hear my mom tell me she’s proud of me. “My parents won’t ever come around.”
“Respectfully, screw them, then.” My head snaps up, gaze meeting his, taken aback. Boone chuckles. “I’m sorry, that’s not very nice of me to say, but I stand by it. If they can’t be proud of you for chasing after your dreams, and if they can’t get on board with that, then that’s on them. Not you. You shouldn’t live your life to please anybody but yourself.”
“Thanks,” I mumble awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. I can’t deny how good it feels to have somebody else on my side, though.
“And for what it’s worth,” he continues. “You’ve got a gift behind the camera. Youshouldpursue that.”
I look away, covering the bottom half of my face with the blanket to hide the grin tugging on my lips. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in I don’t even know how long. When I turn my head toward him again, I find him still watching me. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that sends heat down my spine. It’s like Boone is reallyseeingme right now, and I can’t decide if I hate it or love it.
I’m probably imagining it.
Boone stands up, stretching his arms over his head, and as much as I try to avoid looking, I can’t help it. His back muscles bunch and twist, and they look so tempting under the moonlit glow.
“Well, I’m gonna try to head back to bed,” he announces. “You should too.”
And then he goes back inside, leaving me out here, replaying the entire conversation like a damn schoolboy with a crush.
Fuck me.
10
Grady Wilde
Pulling into the driveway and putting my car in park, I drop my head onto the headrest, gritting my teeth as my mom’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Honey, I just don’t know what you expected from us,” she mutters, voice nasally and bothered. “That we would be happy for you?”
“I mean, yeah,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “I’m your son, and I’m doing something that makes me happy.”
“By dropping out of college in your final year.” Her tone is so condescending. Her face is clear as day in my mind; nose stuck up, face twisted in disappointment. I’ve been putting off this conversation, but knew it needed to happen. We live in such a small town; it would only be a matter of time before they realized I wasn’t away at college. Not to mention, they’d find out sooner or later that I dropped out.
After I left the arena, I decided to get it over with and call them on my way home. Now I’m regretting that choice. Ishould’ve just written it all in a letter and mailed it the old-fashioned way. They don’t deserve my efforts.
Grinding down on my molars, I drag in a deep breath through my nose, exhaling through my mouth, trying to remain calm enough to get through this conversation. “Listen, I know this isn’t what either of you had in mind for me, but I’m an adult, and this is what I want. I hope with time you guys can learn to respect that.”
“Grady…” My mom blows out a long, exaggerated breath. “I don’t see that happening any time soon. Your father and I are disappointed in you. We had such high hopes for where you would go in life, and now you’re going to be nothing more than a low-life, living paycheck to paycheck, working some photo-taking job that’s never going to go anywhere.” She scoffs, just as my chest tightens. “I have to go, Grady. I’ve got things to do, and I can’t sit here and argue with you about your silly little dreams.”
The line goes dead, and I let my eyes drift closed, anger and frustration boiling up inside of me. When I called them, Iknewthey wouldn’t understand, I knew they’d be unhappy, but some small part inside of me had hoped they’d see it from my side. That maybe, for once, they’d be happy for me. The older I get, the less of a relationship I have with my parents. What’s the point? We have nothing in common, they don’t give a shit about my interests, and I always leave conversations with them feeling shitty about myself. I don’t see a reason to maintain a relationship with people who make me feel like that, family or not. It’s not worth it.
As upsetting as this is, it also feels like the last straw. It’s the instance that finally allows me to cut them off for good, without feeling bad about it. If they can’t be happy for me, and learn to accept my decisions, then there’s no point in holding onto a relationship.
