“Kurt?” I prompted when he didn’t respond.
“What?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“My point is you don’t represent me anymore because there’s nothing to represent,” I barked, frustrated that I’d had to say it out loud. It wasn’t his fault, and when he was silent for a beat, I felt like a dick that I’d snapped at him. It had pretty much become my default emotion these days.
“Do you ever open your emails?” he asked what I could only assume was rhetorical since he already knew the answer. “You have about a dozen brand deals and a new Old Spice campaign offer.”
I understood the Old Spice. I’d worked with them before. This would be my third campaign with them, but I had no clue about the other stuff. “Brand deals?”
“Yep.”
“For what?”
“You want me to list them all?” It was clear from his inflection that was not something he wanted to do.
“Why am I getting brand deals when I’m not even on the circuit anymore?”
“Your social media.”
I’d only agreed to have social media because Kurt had promised that other than doing a few lives and some photos, I’d never have to do anything with it. Sometimes people would ask me in interviews about posts “I’d” done, but unless it was brought to my attention, I had no clue. I wasn’t even sure I knew the login to any of my accounts. “My social media?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t do anything with my social media.”
“I know. I do. Well, I hired people that do,” he corrected. “And they’ve done a good job. You have five million Instagram followers and your YouTube page blew up after…”
“After my wreck,” I finished.
“Yeah. The video’s been viewed over twenty million times and you’ve gained over a million subscribers.”
“Okay, what does that have to do with the offers?”
“You have a built-in audience. That’s monetizable.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Your career has always had an expiration date,” Kurt explained slowly, as if he was speaking to a child, which in this case I could see why he would feel like that. “You never wanted to talk about it, but I’ve been planning for this for years.”
It was true, I’d never paid attention to the business side of things. I’d focused solely on winning championships. For years, he had tried to bring up life after the rodeo, but he was right, I’d never wanted to talk about it.
“Don’t worry about any of that now. Just get stronger. Healthier. I’ll check in soon.”
The call disconnected and music once again started playing through the speakers. I tried to block out the conversation that I’d just had with Kurt. I didn’t want to think about my social media accounts or brand deals. I wanted to be back in the chute giving the nod. I wanted the adrenaline rush of riding a 2000-pound bull while he does everything in his power to buck me off. But those things were never going to happen again.
Radical acceptance. It was something I definitely needed to work on.
I pulled up in front of the duplex and noticed that the large bay windows on Olivia’s side were open. Which meant, chances were, she was home. Not that it was unheard of for residents of Wishing Well to leave their windows open even if they were out. It was a small town with very little crime. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone looked out for everyone.
It was part of what had driven me crazy growing up.
I was the sheriff’s kid and I’d watched my older brothers not get away with anything, because someone always found out and told my dad. Thank God I’d had rodeoing. If not, I think I would’ve gotten into a lot more trouble than I did.
My oldest brother Hudson was a deputy at the sheriff’s office now, but in his day he’d been quite the troublemaker. And my middle brother Hayden, who was a former Army Ranger, had also been a hell-raiser.
They’d both spent more weekends grounded than not. But I’d stayed out of trouble, because I’d had something more than freedom that I hadn’t wanted to be taken away from me. If I didn’t get good grades or got caught drinking, smoking, sneaking out, or coming home after curfew, I wouldn’t be able to compete or train.
That had kept me on the straight and narrow.
I stepped out of my truck gingerly because my body was sore after therapy. As I walked up the front path, I did my best to keep my eyes focused ahead. I still couldn’t believe what I’d seen this morning, or that I hadn’t been able to look away when I’d seen it. But before I unlocked my door, my eyes cut over to her window. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear music playing.
As much as I wanted to knock on her door, I knew that would be a bad idea. I forced myself to open my door and go inside, but it wasn’t easy. Olivia Calhoun had always been my kryptonite.
When we were young, I didn’t mind being drawn to her. I just loved being around her. I loved that she was so easy to talk to, I could tell her anything, and she never told anyone. I’d never been able to say no to her. The only time I’d ever cheated on a coin toss was when we’d flipped to see if Olivia would be allowed in our tree fort. I said that it was tails when it had really landed on heads because I hadn’t wanted her to be upset.
My feelings for her had always been strong but nothing could have prepared me for the first day of eighth grade when she’d walked into the quad with Bentley.
I’d never forget it for as long as I live. Her blonde hair was shimmering in the morning sun. The moment our eyes met; a wide smile spread across her face. Seeing her made me feel more nervous than I ever had before any competition.
She walked right up to me, threw her arms around my neck, and hugged me. When she did, my heart started pounding, my palms got sweaty and it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. It was also the first time I’d ever popped a boner in public.
I’d stepped away from her and put my backpack in front of me. I was sure that someone would notice or that she would say something, but neither of those things happened. She just talked to me like everything was normal. When the bell rang and we all went our separate ways, I was convinced Bentley would call me out on how weird I was acting, but he didn’t.
That day, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else during homeroom, shop, and P.E. When the bell rang for lunch, I met Bentley and Travis in the spot that we’d been meeting at since we started Wishing Well Middle School in sixth grade, but this time Olivia was with them.
As soon as I saw her, it all started again. My palms got sweaty. My heart raced a million miles a minute. I felt like I was going to throw up. I didn’t speak to her that entire lunch and I’d barely said anything to her since that day. For years after that, I’d assumed that my feelings for her would go away. I thought it was a phase and I’d grow out of it. Unfortunately, every time I saw her, they only intensified.
By the time I graduated, I was sure that she must think that I was a total asshole, or weird. But then, the night before I left to go on my first national circuit when I was sixteen, I found a letter from her in my bag. A letter that I still kept in my wallet to this day.
I never told her I found it, because what was the point? How could I tell her that I loved her, but I didn’t want to settle down? How could I tell her that she was the only person I’d ever loved, but she deserved better than me? How could I make her understand what she meant to me, but not offer her anything in return?