Page 110 of One Last Rodeo

I step towards his desk. "I’m not saying I’m going to stay in the rodeo forever, but Davis, whatever I choose to do next, I give it everything—not for accolades, not for attention, and not for praise. I don’t need applause to know my worth like you do. And that's what makes you look small.”

He scoffs. “You’ll always care about the attention.”

I shake my head. “You know, for years I thought I was the cold one in our relationship. I thought if I’d been softer, maybe more affectionate, more expressive, sillier, that you wouldn’t have cheated.” My voice stays calm. Unlike my conversation with Jensen, I'm not worked up. I'm not upset. I almost feel like I'm talking to a stranger and not the man I spent over a decade with and almost married.

“I get awards for my skill. You get praised for your charm. And for a long time, I didn’t understand why I couldn't be more likable.”

I pause, then finish quietly, “I understand now it was never about my likability.”

His jaw clenches.

“I’m not cold,” I continue. “I’m careful. I'm reliable. I'm slow to warm up. I'm observant. You’re the cold one. You step on people to get where you want to go. I never did that. You didn’t just end our relationship—you destroyed it in the most dishonest way possible, when all you had to do was tell me the truth and I would have let you go.”

I step toward the door. “I’m going to perform Olivia’s surgery now. Then I’m returning to the series to finish what I committed to because that’s what good doctors do no matter their specialties. But I’m grateful we had this conversation.”

He looks up sharply and scoffs. "Great."

I ignore his snide tone. “Because you've given me something I didn’t realize I needed,” I say. “Proof that I can be in a relationship without guarding my heart. Without waiting for the other shoe to drop.” I let that land. “That’s how I feel when I'm with Jensen.”

He stands so fast his chair scrapes and papers scatter across the desk. His eyes go hard. “I knew you were fucking that bull rider!”

I lift my chin. “There’s more to him than being a bull rider—just like there’s more to me than being a surgeon. Those are things you’ll never get to know about either of us, though, because you threw away your chance.”

I open the door and don't say goodbye. And then I walk out—lighter than I’ve felt in years—smiling all the way back down to the OR, ready to do what I do best.

Fix hearts.

Chapter 34 – Jensen

I wrap the rope tighter around my hand, feeling the rough bite of the fibers through my riding glove. It stings just a little through the calluses that I've earned, but I’ve always liked this kind of pain.

When I flex my right hand, the chipped remnants of red nail polish catch my eye, the last stubborn flecks of the color June painted on me weeks ago. It doesn’t freak me out anymore to see it fading. Doesn’t send me spiraling thinking it's the last taste that I'll get of Catalina. Because the polish can fade, wear off, and disappear completely. But now I know that Catalina won't.

I believe she’ll be here tonight. I believe she’ll watch me ride. I believe that afterward, when it’s quiet and we're alone and there’s no crowd screaming in our ears, she’ll finally tell me what I’ve been holding my breath for.

I inhale deeply, then let it out slow and steady.

Eight seconds. That’s it. One last ride to finish what I began years ago.

Truth is, I could walk away right now and be fine, but I owe it to my guys to finish the series. To Craig. To Dawson. To Heath. To every person who’s had my back for over a decade. To the fans who showed up tonight thinking they might be watching the end of something. They are. It’s the end of an era for me. They just don't realize it yet.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest, like it’s already trying to outrun me. I glance toward the gate and catch June snapping photos; lens trained on me like she always does before one of us rides out into the ring to risk our lives.

I give her my best smolder—half cocky, half promise. She says those perform the best on our social media page. I wouldn't know. She checks the screen, grins, and throws me a thumbs-up.

"Lookin' good out there, Jensen!"

I catch Raf staring behind me. His eyes never leave her, tracking the sway of her hips in those tight jeans as she moves. I feel bad for my buddy, because he looks lost and a little desperate to be seen by her. I know that ache. Wanting someone so badly you don’t think they’ll ever really notice you. I hope he works up the nerve before it eats him alive.

Then the announcer shouts my name and the crowd explodes. Eight seconds. That’s all I need. That’s all it takes to change everything.

I salute my guys as they bang against the gate, getting the bull good and pissed for me, and catch Dawson’s eye—give him a nod that sayswe’re good. He nods back. We are. I've apologized to him about a dozen times since I landed in San Diego formy outburst. I know it wasn't his fault what happened with Catalina's ex, and he's a good man. All of them are. He didn't know their history either. He was just as pissed as I was when I explained.

The gate flies open and suddenly I’m airborne, set on the last ride of my life.

Eight seconds doesn’t sound like much, but it stretches when you’re fighting a thousand pounds of muscle and fury beneath you. The bull kicks hard, twists, snaps side to side. He’s mean. He’s fast. He wants me gone, but I'm not dropping that easily on my last ride. I didn't come this far in my career to go out weak.

Every muscle burns. My teeth grit. My bad shoulder screams. And then—just like that—the horn goes off and I’m launched, flung sideways, slamming into the dirt in a rough, breath-stealing fall.