Page 46 of Eight Seconds to Ride

She glances over at me, her blue eyes that match his almost perfectly softening before she returns her gaze to the road. “I don’t really know how much I should be telling you,” is all she says.

Um, okay, ominous.“Well, something,” I reply with a small laugh. “You can’t say something like that and then give me nothing.”

She breathes out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, but you didn’t hear this from me.”

“I promise.”

Daisy throws me one last look. “If I had to guess, which at this point, I know him pretty well, I’d say he’s feeling antsy about heading back home, andthat’swhy he’s being such a dick.”

My brows pinch as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. “Why would going home put him on edge? Wouldn’t it cause the opposite effect?”

“I’m sure you don’t know this about Shooter because he doesn’t talk about it, like, ever, but our dad puts an insane amount of pressure on his shoulders. You probably know our dad’s a retired world champ bronc rider too; same with our uncles and our grandpa.”

“Yeah, of course, I know that.”

“It’s just…” Daisy pauses for a moment, like she doesn’t quite know how to word whatever it is she wants to say. “Sometimes I really think our dad expects perfection out of Shooter. You know, for following in his footsteps. I won’t say any more because it’s not my story to tell, but I think the pressure gets to him sometimes.”

“Dang.” I don’t even know what else to say. This explains so much while leaving me with so many questions. Like maybe Shooter isn’t just some cocky, entitled cowboy like I originally thought. Maybe underneath it all, there’s more there making him the way he is.

The conversation eventually comes to a stopping point, and we spend the rest of the drive in a comfortable silence with nothing but the music playing softly. The entire time, my mind is spinning. I hate how I can’t help but see him in a different light now.

When we make it back to Copper Lake, I have Daisy drop me off at Conrad’s on the way to her house. I’m exhausted, and as soon as I make it up to the loft above the barn, I pass out. By the time I wake up, it’s nearly dusk, and my mind is still focused on Shooter. Everything Daisy said. And this need to find out the whole story. I don’t know if my screwed-up mind is just looking for ways to humanize him, to find excuses for his behavior with some deeper explanation… Or if maybe, despite my best efforts, I’m actually starting to care for the guy I can’t stand.

23

Shooter Graham

Mom: Come over for lunch Friday. Please. I miss you.

Staring down at the phone in my hand, I wish I felt anything other than dread while reading that message. I’ve been back in Copper Lake for two days now, and it should be relaxing and nice to be here before we hit the road again. It’s anything but. I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid my parents forever. It’s a miracle my dad’s let me ignore his text messages as long as he has, but fuck, the very last thing I want to do is face him.Especiallyafter how shitty I’ve been competing over the last few weeks.

Me: I don’t know if I can. There’s a huge get-together at the ranch Friday that everyone from the rodeo is going to.

It’s weak. I know she’s not going to let me off the hook.

Mom: Shooter Baylor Graham. Don’t make your mother ask you twice! And besides, I ran into Conrad at the grocery store earlier and I already know thatdoesn’t start until 3. You can come to lunch. Daisy will be there too.

Mom: Love you.

Fuck.

Me: Love you too, Mom.

Tossing my phone to the side, I flop back down onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I need to get the fuck out of my head, because I’m doing nothing but driving myself crazy. But I don’t know how. If I’m not obsessing over seeing my dad and anticipating all the disappointment he’s going to toss my way, then I’m obsessing over how fucking shitty I was to Sterling the other day, and how he hasn’t spoken to me since. Not a single fucking word since he left my truck at that gas station to get into Daisy’s.

And why would he, honestly? It’s not like we’re on a friendly basis. We aren’t on the road together, aren’t crammed in a camper next to each other, so why would he go out of his way to talk to me? Especially after I treated him like garbage for no good reason.

It doesn’t stop me from wanting to see him, though. I know we’ll see each other at that get-together at the ranch on Friday… but that’s days away. I don’t want to wait days. I’m used to seeing him every single day, even if he didn’t want to see me.

As if I can’t stop myself, I grab my phone, unlocking it, and I pull up my text thread with Sterling.

Me: Hey, man. I want to apologize for how I behaved the other day.

Ugh.Erasing that message because it sounds fucking stupid, I try again.

Me: I know I was a dick the other day, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, punching the delete key until the entire message disappears. How fucking hard is it to saysorry without sounding like a moron? Why is this so difficult? “Forget it.”

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