Page 20 of Roping My Rival

“It’s been a while since I braided your hair. Would you like me to do that?”

“Yes!” she shouts. Her painting day now forgotten. “In my room so I can get elastics.”

My sister leads me through the halls to her tiny room. I always feel guilty that this is all the space I can afford for her, but she has an organized chaos system going on here, and she never seems unhappy about it.

After placing a brush and a small container of hair elastics between us, she sits cross-legged on the bed with her back to me. It’s just like when we were kids, and I’m rolled back to even more memories, happier ones. Darla would chatter on about hair and makeup and cute boys, and I tuned out most of it except the cute boy part.

This was our time together, and it felt easier to tell her secrets when I couldn’t see her face. Since her accident, I never know if her secrets are real or if she even remembers how much those childhood times mean to me.

My fingers are out of practice and still shaking, but I carry on a conversation anyway.

“I’m going to do another rodeo event. Team roping.”

“You will win. Like always.”

I laugh softly. “I hope so. It’s a team, and my partner doesn’t like me much.”

“How? I love you. You’re the best brother.”

“I know, right?”

She laughs, and I fasten the end of her braid with an elastic. When she turns around, she’s my sister, and we’re still in high school, talking shit about the cool kids who live in town. The townies we called them. Except the small part of a scar that’s still visible on her forehead signals we aren’t teenagers anymore.

The permanent reminder of why this is her life. Our life.

“Thanks for doing my hair, Dane. I should get to my painting.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She scoots off the bed and leads me back to the common room. Darla hugs me and waves goodbye.

After stopping in the accounts office, I drop off the payment and chat with the office staff while waiting for my statement.

“Here you are, Dane. That sits you well for a little.”

“Thanks. It does.” Stuffing the receipt in my pocket, I lower my voice. “Does Darla ever get other visitors?”

“No, just you. Should we expect anyone?”

“No. Her friends were few, and when she got hurt, most never visited. It’s just me and the people in here.”

“She’s a delight to have, Dane. Really. Are you worried about her?”

“No. I was just curious.” Knocking against the counter, I turn to leave. “Thanks so much.”

After stopping at the grocery store and buying a ready-made meal at the deli, I pop it into the microwave in my room and let my mind wander back to the guy on the street.

When the microwave pings, I bolt up straight.

It’s the guy from the casino.

“Fuck.”

Why is he back?

Most importantly, what does he want?

Jesse hands me a ginger ale and flops on the couch next to me.