Page 65 of One Last Rodeo

And I don’t know why, but tears form instantly. I’m having some strange, instinctive reaction I didn’t even know lived inside me. My throat tightens and I feel the warmth of salt and water at my lash line from tears. This day has felt so peaceful and gentle. It’d be a crime to end it with death.

Before I can stop myself, I'm saying “Jensen, we have to put them back.”

I've never cared that much about the circle of life before. I'm a doctor. I know death is inevitable for all of us. But if this perfect, unplanned day ends with the slaughter of a handful of fish, I might just never be able to come back to Tennessee again.

“Hey.” He crosses the small space between us until his hand is resting warm and steady on my hip and he's kneeling in front of me between my legs. His soft, hazel eyes scan my face full of concern. “Why are you upset?”

I swipe at my eyes quickly, trying to hide any trace of the tears. I'm not a crier. My ex never cared when I cried. Most people didn’t. Especially not my parents. Maybe it's because myyoungest sister Isla wasalwayscrying and wore them out with her emotions. Somewhere along the way, hiding became easier than hoping someone would notice my pain.

“I-I don’t like eating fish. It’s gross.”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “So, that’s what this is all about?”

I nod, feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t go straight to making fun of me. Doesn’t tell me I’m being dramatic. Doesn’t sigh or roll his eyes or say,‘Come on. It's food. You're not really upset about us killing a few fish, are you?’

He just nods slowly. “Alright, Kitty.” And then he crouches by the cooler, lifting each fish we spent all day catching—must be fourteen of them—one by one, and releasing them gently back into the lake so that they can live their little fishy lives out in peace.

My breathing stills as I watch him. The strong muscles in his biceps flexing with each toss. He doesn't look upset that he's putting all his hard work back in the lake. He's smiling.

“Just like that?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder at me with a smile. “Yeah, Kitty. Just like that.”

His traps stretch the thin cotton material of that single white shirt he seemed to pack for our trip as he moves. It still has the grease stains on it from where he wiped his fingers on the plane. He adjusts his sling. I can tell his shoulder’s been bothering him more than usual today, and I instantly feel guilty making him throw all the fish back in.

I watch him finish and something in my chest loosens. Maybe things don’t have to be complicated all the time between two people. Maybe disagreement doesn’t have to mean war andleaving. Maybe someone bending for you isn’t a threat or a loss. It's what a healthy relationship looks like.

My ex and I barely argued, but only because we barelytalked, too.And when we did? It was stone walls meeting sharper stone walls. No give. No softness. No one willing to try or bend to the other's perspective. We'd just double down and then go to bed angry, pretending it never happened in the morning.

I wonder what it would be like to disagree with Jensen and him push back. He seems like a man who has morals and convictions but bends when it matters most and will never break. Would I bend too if he disagreed with me? Do I even know how to give up my own wants for the good of a relationship?

Not that we're in a relationship or anything.

He tosses the last fish into the lake and wipes his hands on his jeans. I think I'm finally starting to get used to his general lack of hygiene. A week ago, that would have caused me to run for the hand sanitizer. Now I know he'll probably wash his hands in the lake and call it a day.

“You excited to see your parents in San Jose next week?” he asks, like he’s been listening to my thoughts unravel this whole time.

I sit beside him on the boat's bench as he adjusts his sling again. “Yeah. I miss them.”

He smiles. “They gonna come watch me ride?”

My brows lift. “Would you like that?”

He thinks for a moment—eyes narrowing, lips twitching. “Yeah. I like it when people show up for me. I haven't had anyone in the crowd for me in a long time."

"No women?"

He smirks. "That doesn't count. They're not really there for me. They are there for the cowboy."

I clear my throat. "I see."

He doesn’t miss a beat. "Though I guess if your parents come, they’ll really be there for you and not me.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Excited for them to get to see you be a rodeo doctor?”

“We went to a few rodeos when we were kids. Honestly, I barely remember them. Seeing them up close and personal as the Series doctor is very different. I can't relax and enjoy it.”

“That’s ‘cause none of those bull riders were as memorable as me.”

I snort. “Maybe.”