Page 171 of Giddy Up, Daddy

Watching him walk onto my porch and out to his truck gutted me. I knew he needed space, but damn if it didn’t hurtmy ego and my heart to see my best friend strut away into the starless night.

Chapter Eight

Alden

I hadn’t gotten much sleep since Kennedy and Wyatt ran scared from my house several days apart. Checking the digital clock by my bed, I confirmed it was too early to start the day. The two of them had texted a few times, mostly one-word answers to my questions over the past week but nothing tangible. Nothing I could help us build a relationship on. I had no idea what was going on, and no idea how to fix it, but I was driving myself crazy trying to figure it out. My cell phone vibrated on the nightstand.

“You have no business ringing when the sun isn't up yet,” I chided the digital device. Luke’s name flashed on the screen. I wasn’t typically first on his list of contacts unless something was up. Was he calling to talk about Wyatt this early?

Worried, I grabbed my phone and clicked to answer. “What’s wrong?”

“Good morning.” Luke sounded stressed instead of his usual happy-go-lucky.

“Is it?”

“I need a favor.”

“Somebody hurt?”

“No, everything’s fine. Everyone is fine.”

“You sure don’t sound like everything is fine.”

“Tate is on his way to the hospital with Marissa. She’s in labor.”

I switched on the lamp on my nightstand. Tatum and Jesse were Marissa’s boyfriends, and I knew her due date was approaching.

“I’ve got a huge show this weekend. Twelve girls are competing! Which is the most we’ve ever had.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, Pistol?” I asked, calling him part of his ring name. Maybe I just wasn’t awake enough yet, but I wasn’t seeing what the problem was, or what he could need my help with. But there had to be something I was missing. We’d been through a lot together over the years, there for each other during some of the worst periods of our lives. I knew he wouldn’t ask unless he really needed help. My sleep-addled brain needed to connect the dots faster. Thankfully Luke kept talking and filled in some of the empty spaces.

“Yes, it’s amazing but that means Tate’s out, obviously, and Emma is also staying home. She promised to be there for Marissa when the baby comes home.”

“You need more hands. Of course you do,” I said more to myself than to him. “Without Tate and Emma, you’re alone.”

Many of the young women that they trained came from impoverished situations. They didn’t have a caregiver on hand to do their hair or to give them a pep talk, a hug, whatever they needed to relax and focus. Another person to grab snacks, drinks, give last-minute tips was more than helpful, it was mandatory. If one of the girls got injured or sick or any multitude of problems, he’d need someone else there.

“Is there any way you can come with me, Trailblazer? You know the arena. You’ve seen these girls practicing since they were little. They look up to you. And if that’s not enough–no one knows how to take care of shit when it goes off the rails like you.”

“Don’t go butterin’ me up, Pistol.”

“I haven’t even laid it on yet. You want me to bake those muffins you like?”

“Nah, I just don’t think my big-ass hands can do those cute little braids.”

“Emma taught Tate and I some tricks. We watched those online tutorials,” he said proudly. “The girls know the drill. And they help each other out. That’s the least of my worries. It’s the trailers and the horses and the travel. A few of them are getting rides but not all of them. It leaves a bunch without a way to get to Denver.”

I stretched, getting out of bed. Caffeine and food were needed before anything else happened.

“We’ll figure it out,” I confirmed. It would work out with both of us there. “What time do you need to get on the road?”

Luke let out a sigh of relief. “We need to be out by seven-thirty.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, man. Will your brats be okay without you?”

“They ain’t really my brats. I’m guessing Wyatt hasn’t spoken to you yet.”

---