My jaw clamps down and something snaps inside me. That fear hits me like a tidal wave, and I yank my hand out, reaching for the fencing to pull myself up. The fame. The buckle. None of it matters. Not one bit. All I want is to hear those words from her lips. I don’t want to spend my last moments on a bull. I want to spend them hearing her whisper that in my ear. And then I’m off, swinging a leg over the fence. “Eaton! What you doing?” one of the coaches calls out to me as I drop onto the landing and toss my helmet, reaching for my favorite brown hat instead. “I’m done.”
