Page 31 of What I Should Have Known

“Because you’ve spent the entire rodeo talking to him and giggling and shit, which I’ve never seen you do.”

My cheeks burned, hot embarrassment rising. There was no way that he was right, except I couldn’t deny that the anger I felt was more because of the concern I had for Bernie than actually being upset he did something to protect me. “Joshua Charles Thomas. If you so much as say a word about this to anyone, I’ll ruin you. And you know I can. I know everything about you.”

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. “Tell your brother he needs to be better about keeping shit to himself, or I’ll stop being his best friend.”

I laughed, and then quickly narrowed my gaze again. “Seriously, though. Shut it.”

He furrowed his brows as the announcer said Bernie’s name. I glanced over at the chutes to find Bernie leaning against the rail, watching the horse he was going to be riding. The bronc slammed itself against the door as the rigging was tightened around his chest.

“Kat, why are you so concerned someone might find out you’re interested in this newcomer?” Josh asked, drawing my attention briefly away from Bernie. I clambered over to the rail and quickly pulled myself up onto the top rung, right next to Josh.

“Not only has he never even ridden a normal, broke horse before in his life let alone a bronc, he drew Popsicle,” I whispered, ignoring Josh’s question.

Josh turned his gaze away from me, latching onto the same crazy horse who Bernie had yet to be able to climb onto. “I’m sorry, but what?”

“He drew Popsicle,” I reiterated.

“That’s not what’s got me shocked, Kat.”

I waved my hand, dismissing his staggering concern, because yes, it was something I was also worried about, but it was compounded by the fact that Bernie was about to get on a bronc that was known to be extremely dangerous—not just dangerous for a regular horse, but dangerous for a bucking horse.

“I thought they retired Popsicle last year after he threw the one rider who broke his femur or pelvis or whatever?” Josh muttered.

My bottom lip trembled, as the gray appaloosa reared up, slamming his back against the chute.

“Apparently just from the pro circuit,” I replied, my voice choking on the last word as Popsicle tossed his dark mane, crashing back onto all four hooves.

“That’s why the other rider probably dropped out last minute.” Josh lifted the hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

My breath quickened. Every pore of mine prickled as worry coated my tongue. “He’s going to get really hurt,” I choked out.

Josh’s brows twitched as my gaze latched onto the snorting creature stomping in the box. None of the other cowboys had let Bernie climb on yet, and the announcer was relaying statistics over Popsicle’s history and recounting a play-by-play of the absolute chaos roaring behind the black eyes of that horse.

“Bernie doesn’t look fazed at all by it,” Josh suddenly muttered.

Tearing my gaze from the horse, I latched onto the very man himself. He casually leaned against the rail, not an ounce of worry tightening the hardened features on his face. The two lines between his brows were vacant, his eyes locked onto the horse, and there was an aura of calm draped around him.

“He should be fucking terrified,” I said.

Josh slowly nodded, as if in the daze that Bernie should be in. “If he’s never been on a regular horse before, or seen a bronc until now, what the hell does he do that something like this isn’t scary?”

I kept my mouth shut, because I wasn’t even sure other than he was in the military. Something that his mom never really talked about.

Tipping my head, I studied his features as a fleeting thought bounced around my head. How strange it was that his mom never mentioned it.This was a small town, everyone knew that her older son was gone and had just randomly come home one day. But not a word about him being in the military as the reason for being gone floated around during the gossip.

Anytime his mom was asked about it, she’d skirt around the answer, avoiding outright saying he was deployed. And even when they’d asked for Veterans to stand earlier, he’d ducked his head and hid beneath his hat. Not in a manner that had me thinking he was ashamed to be, but for an entirely different reason. It hadn’t hit me until now how strange that behavior was.

And Arlington.

My eyes widened as Bernie finally climbed over the railing.

Had he buried someone else in the military? Had he lost someone to that damned statistic that no matter how much we tried to fight it, the number only seemed to grow? Twenty-two a day. Twenty-two too many.

My focus flew from the odd thoughts to the present moment, locking onto the sudden thrashing of Popsicle.

Bernie’s hand wrapped tightly around the suitcase handle and his shoulder crashed into the chute, a loud clang silencing the crowd. Even the announcer remained quiet as nothing but the horse and Bernie echoed around me. As hollow as the beat of a drum, my heart pounded in my ears.

“He’s gonna be fine, right?” I whispered.

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