Page 51 of Buck This
“Buck,” she whispered, eyes burning with tears. God, he was so hurt. “I know you weren’t driving that night.”
He hung his head, and she could see it—the drop of water that fell from his eyes and to the gravel at his feet.
“You didn’t kill him—”
“I did kill him! I did. He was driving but his blood is on my fucking hands. He was drinking that night. I didn’t drink back then. It wasn’t my thing. I was sober, but he had this thing about not letting anyone drive his truck. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve driven us home. I should’ve gotten us there safe, and I didn’t! The media might have gotten the details wrong, but they’re right about the most important part—I did kill Teague. My brother is dead and it’s my fault, and now I have to walk this earth pretending I didn’t die right along with him that night.” The wind left his lungs like someone had punched him and he stood, and walked away, stopped ten yards away and hooked his hands on his hips, staring off into the woods.
She startled when he yelled as loudly as he could into the air.
Tears streamed down her face at the sound of agony in his voice. She bet he hadn’t talked about any of this. Not ever. And now it was being played out like theater in the media. Like it was a movie, but it wasn’t. It was a tragedy that had demolished a family, and left Buck reeling.
“I can’t fix that,” she whispered raggedly, “but I fixed tonight.”
His shoulders heaved with his breath, and he just stood there, staring at the woods until his breathing steadied out. “What does that mean?”
“You have a spot to buck tonight. They reversed the decision to kick you out.”
There was a three-second pause before he turned to look at her. “What are you talking about. I’m not bucking tonight.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Torrey—”
“You had your time to speak, and now I’m asking for the same respect. Please.”
His eyes had that same look as in his mugshot, and she couldn’t even imagine how bad the flashbacks had been for him today.
Slowly, he approached the fountain and sat down on the ledge, keeping distance between them. “I want you to leave, Torrey.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what is best.”
“For who?”
He didn’t answer.
“Are you trying to set me free, Buck?”
He gritted his teeth and looked away.
“Won’t work.”
“I’m not interested in you—”
“Won’t work.”
“Last night was fun, but it was just—”
“Bullshit,” she said softly. “Save your bullshit. I’m not here asking you for anything. I’m here telling you, you aren’t alone. No matter what we are, no matter that we will never see each other again after tonight, I’m not leaving until you do the damn thing. I’m here to see this through.”
“What are you talking about.”
“In an hour, the bull riders will be drawing their bulls right before the event starts, on television, and your name is in that hat.”
He shook his head. “There’s no way.”
“I found one.”
