Page 51 of Hard To Fall
LILY
By the timethe sun drops behind the hills, the bleachers still hold the heat of the day, and the smell of fried food lingers in the air. Hearts RoundUp is alive. And not just loud and excited, full of people, but breathing in the way that tells me this rodeo event tonight is going to jumpstart a new era for Hearts RoundUp.
The NextGen Kids killed it in races earlier this afternoon. And once the lights began to hum overhead, the all-star lineup we had ready packed out the place. Music rolls low through the arena, and there are cowboy boots and hats as far as the eye can see. Kids laugh, hyped on a sugar rush from cotton candy, and sponsors shake hands with ranchers like they’ve always been part of this place.
This is what it’s supposed to look like.
I grip the rail of the fence and see banners waving in the wind. My throat is tight as pride fills me that I did it again. But it’s different this time. The Callahans feel like family, and I’m over the moon that I was able to give them this.
Then there’s Colt. His voice is still stuck in my head from the way he whispered my name this morning. I never imagined I’d walk away with more than just another ‘failing rodeo rising tothe top’ on my resume again. I should be adding up ticket sales and already planning the next event, but all I see is Colt’s strong body above mine, the way his abs looked with water running down them in the shower, and the way his hair fell just so right before he put his Stetson on.
No, today is not just another successful rodeo; now I can add love to the top of that list.
The place is electric, but when the announcer’s tone changes, everyone here feels it.
“And now, folks…” the crowd quiets without being asked as if they’re expecting something magical tonight, “before we move into our final rides of the evening, we’ve got something special to announce."
My breath catches. I knew it was coming, but still, I’m not ready to watch the moment it all ends for him in real time. I search out Colt and see him standing by the chute.
“This rodeo has always been about family. It’s been about grit and showing up when it counts.”
The camera pans across the arena, catching Will, Maria, and Levi, their faces full of hope, and even some fear as they watch Colt take to the chute. The crowd cheers, and when they see themselves on the big screen, they look surprised. Well, not Levi. I think he knows where this night is going as I see him zero in on Colt. His lips roll in, and he tips his hat to him.
“And tonight, one of our own asked for one last eight seconds.”
As the crowd hushes, my heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs.
“Born and raised right here in Hearts Bend, a rider who has given blood, sweat, and tears and damn near everything else to this dirt…”
The spotlight sweeps toward the chutes as Colt climbs onto the rungs of the fence. He waves his hat in the air once, thenjumps off. The crowd erupts as they recognize him and the number on his chest. They get louder as the arena watches him take his place in the chute, hat low, one hand gripping the saddle horn.
“…please join us in thanking a man who helped build this place with his bare hands.”
The crowd has a soft murmur to it, like they’re stunned, and then it begins to grow as the announcer says, “This is Colt Callahan’s last ride.”
Sound drops out around me. I hear a gasp, I hear a can of soda spilling over, and then the place erupts, the wordlasthitting me like a physical blow.
I don’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m focused on Colt’s every move. He doesn’t look to see his family or me. He’s steady on the back of the bull, not smiling, not waving, but he does tip his hat once more, and I’ve a feeling it’s for the arena, the dirt under him rather than any one person.
For the life he’s loved longer than anything else.
I press my hand to the rail, grounding myself as the applause swells into something thunderous. This isn’t a celebration; it’s gratitude. I jump as a hand lands on my shoulder. Levi has come beside me, as have Will and Maria.
“Did you know?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak right now. I didn’t get this last ride, but seeing Colt choose his? It’s empowering.
“How’d he feel?”
I swallow hard. “He was ready.”
The gate snaps open, and the bull explodes out, raw power and fury, dirt flying, crowd screaming. Colt moves with him on instinct— hips loose, core locked, free arm slicing through the air with perfect precision.
My chest aches because three seconds in, I see it. His knee is a second behind the rest of him, and it makes my stomach drop. He adjusts, but I count.
Five seconds.
The bull spins hard, mean and violent, like he’s trying to shake Colt from this whole arena. But Colt rides like a man fighting between past and present, as if he’s actively trying to hold onto something he knows he has to let go of.
