Page 30 of Downpour

I left the ranch at eighteen so I wouldn’t be a burden. I was acutely aware of the risks of bull riding, but it had been my ticket out.

I dried off and dressed using my wheelchair since I didn’t want to press my luck.

I had just gotten my gym shorts on when someone knocked on the door.

Brooke was supposed to be here later, but that didn’t sound like her knock. Which meant it was?—

“Ray?” my brother Nate called out as he let himself in.

Yeah. I really needed to get that passcode lock for my door.

No one locked their shit up around here except for me. And the Griffith walking through my kitchen was Exhibit A as to why.

“You’re back,” I said as I pushed my chair into the living room and did a neat pivot around the corner of the couch.

Nate had been traveling with his wife, Becks, for her job as a foreign affairs correspondent. He used to double as her security detail thanks to his time in the military, but now he was the designated parent when they were overseas.

“Got in last night,” he said as he helped himself to my fridge. “Jet lag is a bitch.”

“Where were you this time?”

“Becks was covering a conflict on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan. The network had her staging out of Islamabad, so I hung out at the hotel with Charlie while she was in the field.”

Charlie was my two-year-old niece who had a head of ginger hair that matched her mom’s.

“Everything go alright for Becks?” I asked.

“Yeah. Nothing too crazy.” Nate pulled a plastic-wrapped bowl out of the fridge and poked at the top. “What the hell is this?”

I laughed under my breath. “Something Brooke tried to cook. It tastes like a shoe.”

“Right. The home aide that you haven’t fired yet.” He peeled the plastic back and sniffed the contents of the bowl. “Dear god, that smells worse than a week-old MRE.”

“I warned you.”

Before he could say anything else, the door opened again. Christian and CJ walked in.

“Don’t you people have jobs or something?” I said with a huff as I scrolled through my phone. My social media pages were more or less defunct.

Marty used to post on them for me—mostly content for ad campaigns I was obligated to boost. But nothing had been posted since the night of my accident.

But I wasn’t scrolling for me. I was scrolling to try to findher.

“I’m retired,” Nate said.

“What’s your excuse?” I asked CJ. He was the ranch’s cow boss, taking over for Christian after he took over as the foreman for our father.

CJ shrugged. “I took Indy out this morning. Just turned her out and got Anny. Saw Chris heading over here and came along.”

Indy was my horse, Independence. She was a pretty girl, but a sharp contrast to Anarchy, the sinister-looking horse that tolerated CJ.

“Thanks,” I muttered. It wasn’t like I could take Indy out or care for her. It sucked. “What are you doing here?” I asked Christian.

He peered around the corner. “Looking for Brooke.”

I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t fired her yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Christian lifted his cowboy hat and ran his hand back through his long hair.

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