Page 12 of Dallas

He says that he has a weapon.

I can imagine it. He seems like that kind of guy. There’s a quiet strength about him. Something that many might mistake for being easy-going. There always has been.

There’s also always been anger in him, below the surface. Anger that I could sense because it mirrored my own.

I’m tempted to go through his suitcase, but I’m notthatferal. Only rabid. So, I don’t. I just sit on the end of the bed with the motel silence bearing down on me. I can hear trucks on the highway, and my heart throbs as I imagine Chris somehow figuring out where I am. My car isn’t in the parking lot.

Still, panic is beginning to rise up inside me, and I don’t want Dallas to see me having a full-blown meltdown in his bedroom.

When the door opens, and Dallas appears, the enormous amount of relief I feel is enough to make tears sting my eyes. We haven’t been together for so long, but suddenly I feel calm. Like maybe everything is going to be okay, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that.

He has a bundle of blankets in his arms, and he smiles at me as he throws them down on the floor, like it just isn’t a big deal that he’s giving the bed up for me. Like he’s happy to do it.

“Get your rest. You probably haven’t been sleeping very well,” he says, as he spreads the blankets out.

He’s right. I haven’t been getting rest. He’s right, I can’t sleep because I’m afraid that Chris is going to find me. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me.

I’m afraid he’s going to make me that eight-year-old girl that I used to be. Powerless, trying to get someone to believe me. Being hurt and abused by the people I should be able to trust most.

I’ve worked so hard to make a life for myself. To let that stuff go. To not be defined by something I didn’t choose. It’s the most unfair part about being a victim of anything. That somebody takes you and imposes all their darkness onto you.

That a grown man had the power to make a young, innocent girl feel afraid of her own body. Afraid of every man. Afraid of being touched when touch is so desperately needed. He isolated me. And in the end, that might be the worst of it.

Except this. Except for him terrorizing me now.

“Thank you,” I say, snuggling underneath the blankets and curling up into a ball.

Dallas reaches up to the bed and takes a pillow, and suddenly, it reminds me so much of who we were back then. Suddenly, I don’t feel so terrible. I was always safe when Dallas was there. And happier too. He lies down on the floor, and I stay firmly planted in the bed, even though I’m tempted to lean over and look at him one more time.

I don’t. Instead, I lie there until his breathing becomes even. Until I know he’s relaxed enough to sleep, because that’s how I know it’s safe. Maybe that’s weird. Maybe it’s against all kinds of survival wisdom. But I don’t care. I fall asleep listening to Dallas breathing again. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

Chapter Four

Dallas

Competition day always starts early for me. I’ve got to get a workout in. There’s a tiny, sad gym in the motel with weights, and I use those until the mildew in the walls begins to smell a bit strong. It’s not the nicest place. I can afford better, but it’s one of those things – why? I’ve made a lot of money in the circuit.

My winnings total over a million dollars, but someday I’ll have to use that money for something.

To buy land, to buy a house.

This intangible fantasy of getting what my dad has. Though part of me lives in abject fear of that. I’ve never had a relationship. Not a deep one. I had a girlfriend in high school, which came to its natural conclusion at graduation. She went off to college across the country, and I went to the University of Oregon for a year. I just felt like I didn’t know what I wanted enough to be there. Then I decided to pursue bull riding.

It was a miracle that I graduated high school, much less getting into college, honestly. My education was so interrupted all my life. I moved around a lot, I didn’t have any support, and honestly, I didn’t take it very seriously. It seemed pointless. Futile, even. I knew as a kid that I wasn’t college-bound. In fact, I had a hard time imagining making it to adulthood. Life with Bennett changed that.

When I found my dad, the whole world opened up to me. But the problem is, I’m still carrying a lot of baggage, and none of it’s his fault. I know he feels terrible about it. He didn’t know about me for the first fifteen years of my life. His relationship with my biological mother was something he always regretted. The way that ended, the way that he lost touch with her, all of it. It’s crazy to me to think that by the time my dad was my age he was a dad, even if he didn’tknowhe was a dad.

I remember getting to be about my mom’s age when she had me. Sixteen, fuck. It gave me a lot more sympathy for her than I ever had at any other point in my life. Honestly, I just always thought that she should’ve sucked it up and raised me. Taken care of me, because anything would be better than bouncing around foster care.

But I know differently than that now. I know that, because the greatest failures in Sarah’s life were really the system having custody of her. Her mother put her in the most dangerous situation she could have. She created all these problems that Sarah is still dealing with. So yeah, I no longer come down on the side that parents should try to keep their kids no matter what. But man, when I was young, I was sure angry about it. I felt like she gave up on me.

Maybe part of me still does. There’s got to be some reason I’m out here doing this, instead of following in my dad’s footsteps.

I could be a veterinarian.

That would be respectable.

I guess I still could if I want to spend all that time in school. I have the money. I’m running along the highway, and I increase my pace as I turn around, heading back toward the motel. Sarah is safely locked in the room, and I want to take her to get some breakfast before we head over to the Expo. I like to spend the day getting myself totally familiarized with the surroundings – even though it’s day three of the rodeo, I need to do my walk-through. Need to let the place sink into my bones.

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