Page 142 of Broken Trust
She hangs up and hands the phone back.
The conversation moves on.
Royce starts talking about catching one of the saddle bronc riders in the stables with one of the barrel racers this week and how he didn’t know what to do. Drag him out by his ear or give him a condom and a high five.
Harleigh snorts and says being the responsible adult is weird sometimes.
Everyone is entertained.
Meanwhile, I’m staring out the window.
One of the rodeo school’s female staff members?
The thought shouldn’t bother me. Axle can spend time with whoever he wants. He’s single. He’s grown. He’s absolutely none of my business. But the thought of him curled up on a cabin floor with someone bothers me more than I’d like to admit. The thought of someone else making him laugh. Someone else stealing those quiet nighttime hours. Someone else sitting beside him while he watches documentaries and drinks beer. Someone else being gently tucked in before he sneaks off.
Who are you kidding, Jovie?
If he’s with another woman, they aren’t on the floor. They’re in her bed or his.
A strange ache settles beneath my ribs.
I look out the window and pretend it isn’t there.
The park is packed.
The entire town seems to have shown up.
Children race through the grass. Food trucks line the street. People carry lawn chairs and coolers and blankets. String lights twinkle around the square.
Music drifts through the warm evening air. Wildhaven Junction is already on stage when we arrive.
Cabe finds a parking space next to Bryce, and he and Micah grab the cooler from the truck bed while Royce carries our blankets.
We find a spot near the center of the crowd and spread out.
“This is perfect,” Harleigh declares.
The band launches into another song, and the crowd erupts.
And honestly? They’re incredible. Within minutes, people are dancing everywhere. Kids. Parents. Grandparents. Everyone.
Charli is the first one in our group to stand. She kicks off her sandals. “Come on!”
Harleigh jumps up, and a second later, they’re both grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet. The next thing I know, we’re barefoot in the grass, laughing and dancing beneath the stars.
The music pulses through the park. The crowd claps and sings along. The air smells like barbecue and funnel cakes and summer.
I spin with Harleigh and glance toward our blanket. The guys are exactly where we left them. Sitting in camp chairs. Drinking beer. Laughing at our shenanigans.
I catch Cabe’s eye, and he tips his bottle toward us.
Bryce shakes hands with a man who approaches the blanket, then with another, and then another. Apparently, being a world-famous bull rider means dealing with fan interactions everywhere, even in his own town. The poor guy never really gets a night off.
Hours slip by, and songs blur together.
The sunset fades, and stars begin to emerge overhead. Illuminating the park like tiny lanterns in the sky.
By the time we finally collapse back onto the blanket, we’re sweaty and breathless.
