Page 115 of Ride the Sky

“Fuck off, Hendrix,” Wyatt drawls, causing a storm cloud to brew on Tripp’s face.

“Shut up, both of you.” Pappy snaps a suspender, drawing us back to the point.

“You want coffee, beer?” I hover in the threshold between the living room and kitchen. I stare at Pappy expectantly.

Pappy waves me down. “No, no. We won’t be here long.”

I swallow and settle onto the couch. Wyatt sits in a corner chair like some cowboy sentry, overseeing it all.

“First things first,” Pappy booms. He holds up a white envelope. “Your check from the Rock ’n Ride.”

He offers it to me.

I take out the check inside and look at it.

A measly 300 bucks.

“You still get paid.” From beside me, Tripp gives me an encouraging smile. “You stayed on longer than most.”

But not long enough. The memory of the bull, the ride, the dizziness in my head has me tensing.

“I don’t want to talk about the past.” I set the check aside, focusing on what’s at stake. “What about the Houston Rodeo next year? I’ve been practicing with Wyatt, and there’s no doubt I’ll be ready. Maybe not bulls, but barrel racing I can do.”

Pappy steeples his fingers. “I’m afraid there won’t be a next year.”

I frown, trying to figure out what he means. Finally, I just ask, “What?”

“We had a good run, my girl.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrow.

Pappy continues. “But I think it’s time we seek other solo ventures.”

My stomach drops.

Solo. The universal word foron your fucking own.

“Wait a goddamn second.” Wyatt’s arms dig into the arms of his chair as if restraining himself from lunging at Pappy. “You’re droppin’ her?”

Silence falls.

Roaring erupts in my head.

“Shit.” Tripp turns to me, pale. “I didn’t know, Fallon. I swear.”

“It’s nothing personal.” Pappy adjusts his wristwatch. “You were a hot commodity, and now—”

“I’m not,” I add bitterly before he can finish.

Pappy extends a hand. “If you could ride again, it’d be a different story, Fallon. I’d stick with you, bust my ass to get everything you deserve, but the doctors don’t have much hope.” He chuckles. “And hell, I don’t have much time. Industry moves quick, my girl. It’s business. I need the next best thing, the moneymaker.” Observing me, almost regretfully, he says, “Although, no woman rider I get will have your face.”

Everything he says sounds like it’s being filtered from a tunnel from far away. Blood rushes to my ears, my face.

“I’ll ride again.” My fingers curl to fists on the thighs of my jeans. Rage, or something else, has my entire body shaking. “I will.”

After all of Pappy’s big words about how I was a star, his golden girl—when I finally need someone to believe in me, he’s bailing.

Fucking asshole.

---