Page 85 of Colt
“This is what happens when we leave,” I say. “She makes bad decisions.”
Both Dallas and Sarah look at me. “What?”
“It could be argued that you are also the architect of some supremely bad decisions,” Dallas says.
“I didn’t ask you.”
“I didn’t wait to be asked.”
“Y’all are some assholes,” I growl.
“You kind of deserve it,” Sarah says. “We’re your friends. And we love you. We do. We love you. But loving you means also being realistic about the fact that you really messed up with Allison.”
“I did it for her.”
“You did it for you, Bud,” Dallas says. “Because you’re scared. And I get that. Believe me. We’ve all been through it.”
“I just… I wanted to do better. To be better. Before… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve proven that I can’t be.”
“Fatalistic nonsense,” Sarah says.
I grit my teeth, and then it’s time for the event to start. There is so much spectacle involved in the world championship. It’s here in Vegas, after all. There's a big country star singing the anthem, and trick riders who come out in the beginning. Theproduction values are high. I’ve been lucky enough to participate in a number of years. It’s great. A rush like nothing else. Sitting here, watching it, is an interesting form of self-flagellation that I’ve chosen.
But, I feel like I deserve it.
The rides are incredible. There’s not a single man here who doesn’t deserve it. The animals are in peak condition. I didn’t know how I would feel, actually watching this again. Being near the animals like this. But the surge in my heart tells me that I can heal from this. I can go back to it. My body will let me. Maybe I won’t ever be able to be the best.
But I do love this.
Maybe I won’t ever be the best.
That whispers through me, and it feels like terror. Like I might have actually just been told the time of my own death.
Maybe I won’t ever be the best.
And then what? What will anything mean? Why will I have done any of it?
Why did I push her away?
Because then she’ll push me away. When I can’t be everything.
Finally, it’s time for Maverick Quinn to ride.
“He’s going to win,” Dallas says in my ear. “The son of a bitch is going to win.”
We both knew it. From the beginning, we both knew that without us, it was going to be him. Not that he couldn’t beat us. So much of it has to do with the luck of the draw. What the animal is doing. So much of it has to do with circumstances you can’t control.
It’s an interesting thing that I’ve chosen as my profession. Given that I sure as hell try to control everything else. And everyone’s reactions to me. Maybe that’s why I’m good at bull riding, actually. Because I’m always doing a dance. Alwaysbalancing. Contorting and twisting and putting on the best show possible.
When Maverick is released from the shoot, it’s like there’s a breath held for a moment in the whole stadium. Just for a second. Because from the beginning, you can tell that it’s a special ride. That everything is going his way. The bull is putting up a fight, but Maverick is dominating. Everything is working exactly like it has to. It’s a winning ride.
“He is winning,” I say.
“Motherfucker,” says Dallas.
“Oh boy,” says Sarah. “Stella is going to need emotional support after.”
Eight seconds. He makes it. He leaps off the bull, and I’m used to him turning away from the crowd. Instead, he turns toward the box. Stella isn’t there. I watch as a man that I’ve never seen show a speck of emotion beyond anything bad, looks… Lost. That’s what he looks like. Lost.
