Page 17 of Jack of All Trades
This town has always been my anchor, my safe harbor. I know every street, every building, every family that's lived here for generations. It's why I stayed when Michael and David left for bigger cities and brighter futures. Someone needed to maintain our roots, our connection to this place that made us who we are.
But tonight, for the first time in a long while, I wonder if I made the right choice. If staying in Pine Haven has limited me in ways I hadn't considered. If being "Jack Morrison, local rodeo star" has become a role I play rather than who I truly am.
Maya sees through it, I think. She doesn't buy the charming cowboy act. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to her, because she challenges me to be more authentic, to drop the easy smile and show who I really am underneath.
Or maybe I'm overthinking this whole situation because a pretty girl with sharp green eyes actually seemed interested in what I had to say, and now her brother has made it clear I should back off.
I pull into my driveway, cutting the engine. The house is dark except for the porch light I left on earlier. Inside, I flip on the kitchen light and grab a beer from the fridge, then step out onto the back porch where we'll be hosting Rex's party in two days.
The backyard is peaceful in the moonlight, the old oak tree casting dappled shadows across the grass. I can almost see how it will look for the party—string lights hanging from tree tohouse, tables set up with food and drinks, people gathered in small groups talking and laughing.
Will Maya still want to go through with it after tonight? Will Rex even show up if he knows I'm involved?
I take a long pull from my beer, letting the cool night air clear my head. One step at a time, Morrison. Get through tomorrow, then worry about the party.
My phone buzzes again, and this time when I check it, my pulse quickens. It's Maya.
*Sorry about Rex. He's being ridiculous.*
I find myself smiling as I type back:
*No need to apologize. He's looking out for you. That's what brothers do.*
Her response comes quickly:
*Still. He had no right to make a scene. I decide who I spend time with, not him.*
I consider my reply. This feels like dangerous territory.
*For what it's worth, I had a good time tonight. Before the interruption.*
The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears.
*Me too. You're not as annoying as I initially thought.*
I laugh out loud, the tension in my shoulders easing. That's Maya—brutally honest with a side of reluctant admission.
*High praise. I'll take it.*
There's a pause before her next message:
*Rex is in the shower, so I can't talk long. But I wanted to ask… Your ride tonight. The way you stayed balanced even when that bull was trying to throw you. How do you do that?*
The question surprises me. Most people ask about the adrenaline rush or the danger, not the technique.
*It's about finding your center and moving with the bull, not against it. The more you fight it, the quicker you fall.*
Another pause, then:
*Is that a rodeo philosophy or a life philosophy?*
I smile at her perception.
*Both, I guess. Fighting against forces bigger than you just wears you out. Better to find your balance and move with them.*
*Deep thoughts from a cowboy. I'm impressed.*
*There's more to me than a pretty face and a good seat on a bull.*
