Ride the Sky (Runaway Ranch, #4)

by Ava Hunter

Fallon’s presence and popularity rocked the rodeo world. Cowboys hate her guts, because she’s a woman on their turf. Hell, I’ve heard the whispers myself. And I make damn sure to put everyone in their place concerning Fallon McGraw. She deserves to be here. Even if I hate that she’s riding bulls.

Weston looks to the cameras. Grins. “Maybe she is scared.” Fallon’s nostrils flare. “I’m never scared.” She isn’t. It’s what terrifies me. “Don’t,” I warn her. Weston’s baiting her. Fallon gets on her bulls blind. It’s the mental mindset of a cowboy. She twitches beside me. It’s like waving a red flag at a bull. She can’t back down. She won’t. It was a problem when I trained her, and it’s a problem now. “He’s trying to psych you out,” I tell her, yanking her back against me. “Fuck it,” Fallon says, looking both murderous and petulant. Eyes flashing, she swivels her head to Pappy. “I want to know. Tell me.” Pappy places a hand on Fallon’s shoulder. “You drew Goliath Jim.”

Horror and panic zip through me. Across the room, I see Dakota press a hand to her mouth. Fallon looks startled then exhales. “I got a good one,” she breathes. Not just a good one. Known as one of the nastiest bulls in the PBR, Goliath Jim’s average buck-off time is two-point-five seconds. No one’s ever made it past five. A smirk lifts the edges of Fallon’s bloodred lips. “Jealous, Weston?” “That bull was supposed to be mine,” Weston growls. It happens fast. He takes a step toward her, fists clenched, and I lurch forward, blocking Fallon with my body. “One more step, and I put you through that wall,” I growl.

“No fights,” I hear Davis warn. “This ain’t our town.” Charlie and I share a smirk. I can count on Davis and Ford to bail my ass out, but the one who’s gonna be sitting beside me in cuffs is Charlie.

“You better watch your fucking back before you get hurt,” he snarls My body tenses at the threat. Pappy shoves us apart. “My girl’s scrappy, she’s got this.” “Get the fuck out of here,” I tell Weston. Weston glares at me but backs a step away. Fallon wiggles her fingers. “Can’t wait to kick your ass, asshole.”

She lets me take her chin, tilting her gaze to mine. “You okay?” For a heartbeat, it’s just us. Our breathing. Our heat. Hazel eyes dim, face open and vulnerable, Fallon opens her mouth. “No. I’m—” “C’mon,” Pappy says, stepping in to break us apart. “Big day tomorrow. Time to get some rest.”

Go away Pappy

“Fallon, wait.” I snag her arm. I can practically hear the hiss rising in her chest. Her frosty shell’s back. “I told you once, I’ll tell you again. You don’t get a say in my life, Wyatt. You’re not my keeper.” Too easy, too desperate, the words slip from my mouth. “Yeah, but I’m your—” “Don’t,” she warns. She cuts a hand through the air, stopping me from coming any closer. Stopping our secrets. “Just don’t, okay?”

You’re her what!?

Before I can say another word, she slips out of my grasp and outside into the dark. I could chase her right now, tell her every damn thing in my heart, but she’s already gone.

“You ain’t gonna resolve a thing, you two keep fightin’ the way you are,” Ford drawls as we shove our way through the crowd at the Rock ’n Ride Rodeo. I arch a brow. “This your wise big brother advice?” “Cowboy advice. Married man advice.”

Ford loops an arm around my shoulders. “Listen, the tougher your woman is, the more you have to baby her.” Charlie laughs. “You talkin’ about Reese or Fallon?” Ford chuckles. “What can I say? My wife’s a cruel mistress.” Charlie looks at me. “We said talk to her, not start an all-out brawl.” “I’m tryin’, man,” I grouse. “It’s not my fault she’s as stubborn as a damn mule.” Ford dodges an incoming camera crew. “Any luck, yet?” “I can’t get her alone for one damn minute.”

Today’s not the place for a conversation about why she needs to come home. I won’t lay anything heavy on her shoulders. Not when she needs to be focused on her ride. Truth is, I’m worried as hell about it. Because the odds are against Fallon. What are the chances she draws the most dangerous bull there is? The chances that she actually stays on? It’s the world’s most dangerous sport. I’d be an idiot not to worry. Tonight. After she’s safe on the fucking ground, I’ll tell her. Everything.

“I’ll tell you what your problem is,” Ford says. I rub my face. “Great, can’t wait.” “You’re searching for affection from Fallon, but really, you’d be better off getting affection from a dog on the side of the road, I’m just sayin’.” Charlie chokes on a laugh. I glare at my asshole brother. “Ford, keep talking, I will dump your beer over your head.”

Charlie grins at me knowingly. “Wish you were ridin’?” I grin back. I swear my brother can read my mind sometimes. “Sittin’ it out feels strange as hell.” A flash of caramel catches my eye, and I turn. I wouldn’t miss her in a crowd. Especially now. A gasp goes up among the reporters. They and their cameras rush Fallon as she steps into the designated interview area. For a brief second, I see her hard-shell crack when she spies a cluster of little girls watching her from behind a barrier. She sticks out her tongue and wiggles her fingers at them. Then she gets down to business.

Pappy, looking like a bratwurst in a suit, wraps his arm around Fallon and surveys the sea of eager reporters. I grit my teeth. It’s evident Pappy’s dolled her up for today. I don’t like it. Don’t like any damn thing about him trotting her out like some sexy little package for the cameras.

Eww

After that, the reporters erupt, pushing in closer, mics outstretched. “Fallon! Fallon McGraw!” “Did you always want to ride bulls?” “What score are you hoping for?” “Who’s your trainer?” “What’s it like working with Pappy Starr?” “Are you single? Married?” I hold back a scowl. Fallon’s face flushes. Eyes flashing, she lifts her chin and smoothly answers every question the reporters throw at her. When she’s finished, her gaze lands on me and stays a beat too long. Picking up on the scent, the school of reporters suddenly turn. Wide eyes of recognition land on me.

“Wyatt Montgomery!” one shouts. Microphones swivel. “How do you think Fallon will ride today?” I take my time, making everyone think I’m considering the answer. Feet apart, Fallon’s glare burns into me. Finally, with a wide, bright grin, I say, “Apart from her pissy attitude…” Chuckles from the reporters. I soften my tone, meet Fallon’s eyes. “I think she’ll ride as good as any man.” She drops her gaze. The stadium horns sound, signaling the twenty-minute warning.

Almost imperceptibly, she slinks away from the podium. Our gazes snap together as if on a cord. As she smoothly stalks toward me, I see what she wants. She doesn’t need doubt. She needs me. We come together behind a stand selling hot dogs and beer. Fallon flattens her brows, her lips. Approaches me with steely eyed focus. Flushed cheeks. The only telltale sign of nerves. “Good answer out there,” she says. “You almost sounded sincere.” “I was.”

“I go first,” I begin. “I know, I know,” she grumbles. “No, you don’t know.” I give her a stern look. “You used to kick your feet out of the stirrups when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. And then you know what you did?” The corner of her lips tips up. “I fell off the horse.” “You sure as hell did.” I blow out an anxious breath. I feel like I’m the one about to climb on the back of a 1,500-pound bull the way my nerves are fried. “When you go out, it’s all reaction. You’re on defense. You move with the bull and keep yourself centered.” I move a hand to her stomach. Warm, hard muscle. She stiffens, staring at me beneath lowered lashes. “It’s here. Your core. Your heart. You let it lead you.” “Lead me,” she echoes. “And when you dismount, you run like hell.”

“Here. Your hair.” I reach for it, waiting for her fangs, only she lets me gather it in one hand. “Pappy wanted it down for the cameras,” she says, moving her hand over mine to take her mass of hair from me and twist it into her signature fishtail braid. “Why do you play his game?” “Because I can.” Her chin tilts. “Because I can win it.”

“You be sure when you nod, Fallon. Really fucking sure.” I look into her storm-cloud eyes, the shadows gathering there. “There ain’t no shame if you walk away.” “You don’t understand,” she says, her face creased into something almost like desperation. “I have to do this. I can’t give up. I can’t break again.” My hands return to her vest. Her words make my heart hurt. “Is that what you think you are? Broken?”

When she’s silent, I slip my finger in her belt loop and haul her against me. Her breathing stutters. Her heart hammers against mine. “Talk to me.”

“Wyatt.” No sharpness. A plea. Her eyes flutter close. And then her legs give out. “Whoa.” I grab her, steadying her against me. “Hey. You okay?” She blinks at me. “Just…nerves.” I frown, not missing the way her hand’s gone to her temple. “Bullshit,” I say, hauling her closer. “Let go,” she snarls.

“Not yet,” I say lowly. I’m searching and scanning her for answers. For who she is now. For what we had. If anything. “Not until you tell me something.” Her chest heaves. “Tell you what?” “Did you miss me?” I husk. She lifts a slender shoulder. “Missed hating you.” As skilled in the art of sarcasm as she is, I don’t fail to notice the pretty flush on her cheeks. That means she’s a liar.

Hehe

I run a finger over her cheekbone. That tantalizing flush. “Glad to hear it, Trouble.” She gives me a withering look. “You and that nickname.” “It’s true, ain’t it?” Her face softens a fraction. “Yeah. It is.”

Aww!

“Fallon?” Dakota stands there, brows high. “I wanted to say good luck.” “I have to go, Wy,” Fallon says casually, as if the danger she’s walking into is merely an afterthought. My grip tightens. I don’t like this. The dangerous energy in the air. The bull she drew. Letting her go. But I have to. My hands release her. Fallon straightens, adjusts her vest, and runs to her sister. “Be safe,” Dakota says, stepping to her. Fallon twinges the ends of Dakota’s dark hair. “Worrywart.” The smile on Dakota’s face is forced. “Always.”

A hand on my shoulder. Dakota’s soft voice. “You coming?” “I’ll be right there.”

I walk fast, away from Wyatt and the weight of his heated gaze. From whatever the fuck that was. Asshole. To let him get to me with one touch—unacceptable. No man is worth my toes curling in my boots. My core’s aching, the breath stole from me. Wyatt’s smug, dimpled grin flashes in my mind. Did you miss me? I was pathetic, so close to saying yes. To giving him what he wants.

Still, it’s not to say I won’t take his advice. Despite being an arrogant cowboy, he’s still one of the best riders on Earth. I’d be an idiot not to listen to him. Wyatt’s words to those reporter’s echo through my brain. She’ll ride as good as any man. For so long, I’ve craved those words. Craved him seeing me as an equal. As not just a girl. As someone he respects. So yeah, for one long second, those words turned me to mush. But I’ll never let another man get the drop on me. And that includes Wyatt Montgomery.

“Fallon!” I turn my head. There’s Tripp and his damn water bottle. Hydrate. He’s as bad as Dakota and her worrying. Face red, he hustles up to me, wiggles his brows. “One more for the road?” I scoff and reach for the water bottle. “You’re such a nag.” “You know me, I take care of you.” He laughs. “Hell, I gotta pull my weight. You think I want to go back to Resurrection?”

“Fuck that,” I blast drily. “We’re not going back there.” “Deal.” He grins. “In it together.” Chuckling, I close my lips around the bottle and drink. “You got this,” he says when I’m finished. I throw him a cool look. “No shit.”

You be sure when you nod, Fallon. Really fucking sure. Wyatt’s thick rasp worms its way into my thoughts. I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn that cowboy. Per usual, he’s right. Not like I’d ever tell him that. I have to be sure. I have to make this count. I have to matter. No time for fear or doubt. Never again. And when it’s over? Will I be proud? Will I feel better? Will that ache that’s consumed me for the last two years stop eating me alive?

Beneath me, Goliath Jim shifts. Massive, brutish power. He snorts. I feel the tremor of his muscles. Pent up energy like the calm before a storm. He’s ready, and so am I. A calm settles over me. I open my eyes. And then, I nod. The gate swings open. The arena erupts as I explode into it.

In that moment, I have him. I’ll stay on. All eight seconds. Eight seconds of my life. And then— The world blurs. My tongue feels numb. My body has no roots. Sounds and color kaleidoscope. Fuck. The bull kicks his hind legs. My grip on the rope slackens as all the lives I’ve lived flash before my eyes.

Oh no!!

Fallon has a solid launch out of the shoot. “You got this, you got this,” I whisper. So damn proud of her, so damn terrified. Holding my breath, I track her on the monstrous bull. The bright blast of sunlight illuminates her helmet like a halo as Goliath Jim spins and spins in a blind rage. That’s when I blink. Something’s wrong with Fallon.

A cold sweat sweeps my skin. I leap to my feet, rip off my hat. My heart beats hard in my chest; my breath rattles. “Something’s wrong,” I say to no one. “What?” Dakota grabs my arm. As if in answer, Fallon loses her grip on the rope. Time slows as Fallon goes limp at the exact same time the bull kicks its back legs. We all watch in horror as she flies into the air. Her body contorts, almost impossibly, before landing in the soft dirt of the arena floor with a thud.

“Get up, get up.” Dakota’s wide brown eyes stay glued to the ring. “She’ll get up, right?” she asks Davis, and his silence sinks my stomach. Until the silence is broken. Fallon screams. Her voice an anguished, broken cry that fills the arena.

I can’t breathe, can’t think. “FALLON!” My roar’s devoured by the gasp of the crowd. They see what I see. The bull. It turns around, bows its head, stomps and snorts. Terror twists in my throat like a blade. He’s going to charge her. Fallon sees it, too. With effort, she rolls herself on her belly and begins frantically crawling toward the chute. But she’s too slow. She’s hurt.

Fallon turns her head just enough to find me in the stands. We lock eyes. Her mouth moves. Over and over again, she says my name. Begging me to move, to come and get her, to save her. My heart feels like it’s being torn from my chest. Her panic, her pain. I can feel them. This isn’t happening. It’s not real. It’s not my fucking girl in that ring. I’m suddenly moving. Bodies block my way, people scream, boots stomp, but I push through the crowd, racing down the stands.

GO GET HER!!!!

I can still hear Fallon. Screaming. But I can’t get to her. I can’t fucking get to her. We practically teleport out of the stands and down into the midway. “Out of my way. Let me through,” I snarl at the security guard barricading the gates into the arena. “Let me fucking through.” “Sir, you can’t go in there.” “Like hell I can’t.” I’m pushed to the side by the guard, by reporters. It’s absolute chaos. No one can get anywhere. The flashes of cameras blur my vision. Through the bars, I catch a glimpse of Fallon. My heart plummets. She’s no longer screaming. Face down on the ground, she’s unresponsive and still. Bent over her prone body are Pappy Starr and medical staff.

Still not safe in the ring. She’s not safe. All I can do is watch. Fuck this. Heart beating fast in my chest, I grab the bars and start to climb. I’m going in. One goddamn way or another. A hand wraps around my leg. “Wyatt, no.” Ford’s clipped, panicked voice doesn’t register. Nothing registers. Only Fallon. “You can’t go in there,” Ford orders, gripping me hard.

“Fuck you,” I snap, trying to kick him off. Before I can have another go, I’m forcibly torn from the gates. Big bodies in my periphery grab my arms. Charlie. Davis. I twist, freeing myself from Charlie’s grip before reaching for the bars again. “Let me go,” I shout, on the edge of something I can’t come back from. Panic. Desperation. “I have to get to her! I have to—” “Wyatt—no—you can’t.” Davis’s voice. Ragged. Broken. I shake them off, whirling in place. “I can’t leave her. I can’t fucking leave her—” “Hit him,” I hear Ford say, and then— Blackout.

“He’s awake,” Charlie announces. “What the hell, man?” I ask as I’m grabbed roughly under the arms and sat up. I’m in the bed of Charlie’s truck. “Hell, I’m sorry, kid,” Ford says, eyes wild. “You wouldn’t stop.” “You were gonna go into the snake pit,” Charlie says. “Couldn’t let you do that.” I rub my jaw. “So you cold cocked me?” Charlie loops his fingers through his belt loops and shakes his head. “You don’t listen.”

your pupils.” As he tilts my chin, reality slams into me like a bucking bull. Fallon. Panic sets in, and I jerk. “Fallon. Where is she?”

“Is she alive?” The question has me doubled over and gasping. When no one answers, I clench my fist. Squeeze my eyes shut. “Goddamn it. Tell me.” If she’s dead, put me out of my fucking misery. Charlie clasps my shoulder. “Take a breath, Wy.” “Shut up and listen to me.” Davis steps forward. His brown eyes bore into mine. Pleading. “It’s bad, Wyatt. Okay? It’s real fucking bad.” The tremble in Davis’s voice sends me over the edge. My older brother’s a rock. When he isn’t, it means— “Fuck.” I swallow, try to breathe normally. But I can’t. Not until this weight is off my chest. Not until I see her. “Fuck. Fuck.” Davis continues. “She’s in emergency surgery. She’s bleeding inside. And her leg…” My throat constricts. “What about her leg?”

“They don’t know yet,” Davis says. “They’re doing their best.” I sway where I sit, and vomit crawls up my throat. “Doing their best? What the fuck does that mean?” Davis grips the back of his neck. “It means we don’t know a goddamn thing yet.”

“You ready, kid?” Ford’s soft voice sideswipes my thoughts. Tears gather in my eyes. I nod. With a sinking heart, I slide out of the bed of the truck, but I don’t get far. I fall to my knees and throw up all over Charlie’s boots.

“Fallon,” I whisper. “Please.” It’s a prayer. For someone up there to hear me and do something. To make her okay. Otherwise… I’m a fucking goner. I squeeze my eyes shut. Fallon crawling for me. Her screams silencing. Her body twisted, like a broken doll. The images keep flashing through my mind like a strobe, and I wish to hell it was dream. This was bound to happen sooner or later. I knew it. Everyone knew it. It’s what I feared. Fallon getting hurt. It’s why I flipped the fuck out when she told us she was riding bulls. But I’m not ready for it. Not now. Not ever.

“Wyatt,” Ford says but silences when Reese touches his shoulder.

“I should have stopped her. I should have done something…” I don’t know if it’s a regret from the past or a plea from the present. All I know is that both ring true. If I had done something… Dakota wouldn’t be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Fallon would be okay. She’d be back in Montana. Maybe in my arms, in my bed. She’d be safe. Healthy. Still scowling. Still whole. And me, I’d be halfway sane at least. Ford blows out an exhausted breath. “I think that’s what we’re all feelin’ right now.” “You knew this could happen. I knew this could happen.” Charlie’s eyes are sympathetic, and I know he’s thinking of Ruby. He bows his dark head. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, Wyatt.” “We let her unravel.” Dakota’s face is etched with fear and sadness. “We weren’t there. And she left. And now this happened.”

Fucked. We’re all fucked without her. “Fallon’s got spunk,” says Vic from his corner chair. “A bad run can’t keep that girl down.” I stare at the ground, my eyes burning again. If she’s seriously hurt, I don’t know how we’ll come back from this.