Ryan scowled, letting his hands droop over the rail. “It was always a full house growing up. Always.”
“I know, man. I was there for most of them.” He watched Ryan for a long moment, then tilted his head. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
“Me?” Ryan shook his head and looked away. “Really not my business anymore.”
Caleb barked a hard laugh. “Look me in the eye and tell me that again. You about took my head off when I said numbers were down, and now you’re going to pretend it’s not your business?”
“It isn’t,” he insisted, shaking his head once more.
And it wasn’t.
He wasn’t on the rodeo circuit anymore. Hadn’t competed in eighteen months. Hadn’t ridden a bull since the injury. Didn’t even race his horse across the ranch anymore.
He didn’t even have a competitive spirit anymore.
He could complain all he wanted about lack of interest and attendance, but he hadn’t gone to any events, either. Hadn’t shown up at the SHCC rodeo events. Hadn’t reached out to any of his former teammates or competitors, most of whom had come through Lost Creek at least once since he’d been back and recuperating.
He hadn’t even cared about rodeo since his injury.
Not really.
Ryan bit his tongue now at the lie. Of course, he cared. He cared so much, he couldn’t face it. Couldn’t deal with pitying looks and prying questions. Didn’t want to see the disappointment in the guys that he had given it up.
Because he hadn’t given it up.
It had been taken away.
“When you’re done roaming the open range of Denial,” Caleb mused as he unlatched the gate and swung it open a little, “let me know. I’m ready for some real ideas to keep Lost Creek in the rodeo business.” He moved into the corral, whistling a little as he moved amongst the cows.
Ryan watched him do so, gnawing on the inside of his lip. Caleb was right, and he had no trouble admitting it.
He was in denial about Lost Creek’s rodeo, and there was no point pretending he wasn’t. What’s more, he knew full well why.
He was scared of getting back into rodeo in any way, shape, or form.
What if being around the competition made the pain of being out worse? What if he couldn’t find satisfaction in his work at Broken Hearts because he was still dying to ride? What if volunteering or being on a committee or showing any interest in the rodeo events brought back the months of darkness he’d felt after the word had come that he couldn’t return? What if …?
What ifs are worth as much as tobacco spittle, and they’re a lot less satisfying.
Ryan smiled at the phrase echoing through his mind, perfectly recollected in his grandfather’s gravelly twang. He’d have hated that Ryan was out of rodeo, but he would have been ashamed of the way Ryan had cut himself off from everyone and everything in the world he’d once lived for. Grandad would have hated nothing more than a retreat, and there was no doubt, that was exactly what Ryan had done.
He exhaled heavily now, tapping the edge of his hat down a touch. “Caleb?”
The larger man turned, hands at his belt, looking at him. “Boss?”
Ryan made a face, then groaned. “Do you think it might help things if I got the Original Six back together? Not all competing, obviously, since I can’t, but at least back in town? Maybe do a clinic or something?”
Caleb pursed his lips, his head bobbing as he nodded in thought. “Yeah, I think that’d do something. You get your guys down here, get them to compete, and we might get somewhere.”
“Might?” Ryan pressed, narrowing his eyes. “What else do you think needs to happen?”
“Well, I think it might help a lot of people if a local hero proves he’s bigger than his career-ending injury and leads the way in doing something for the rodeo besides showing up for it.” Caleb tipped his hat back a bit and grinned his version of a dare at him. “What do you think?”
It was the worst sort of pressure, and it clawed at Ryan’s stomach with a determination that left him a little queasy.
But, if he was going to jump, he might as well leap.
“Fine,” he grunted, waving a hand. “Tell Tom I’ll do it, and I’ll see what I can do about getting the guys in. Now, which of these beauties do you think we can get the most for?”
I may have found something.
Grizz’s text had taken her by surprise, considering Talia had only been off for one day. It had been the longest day in a while, and she’d hated every moment, but she had survived by the skin of her teeth. She’d made herself a list of things to accomplish, given that the day was at least thirty-six hours long, if the day before was anything to go by.
She hadn’t started a single one yet.
Hadn’t even showered until Grizz had texted that he wanted to meet up.
It would have been embarrassing, had she been meeting anyone else, but as it was Grizz …
Well, she couldn’t see how anything could be more embarrassing than crying snot all over his probably expensive sweater.
He’d told her not to worry about it, said his wife cried on his shirts all the time, but Talia had never quite seen the powerful and perfect Rachel as the blubbering type.
Talia hadn’t been, either, before all of this.
She used to be a bit of a fashionista, for a single mom on a middling paycheck, but the last few months had been an exercise in the use of lounge pants and leggings in her workplace wardrobe. No one had said a thing about it, but Talia was sure they’d noticed.
Made no difference now.
She and Grizz were meeting at a quiet cafe not far from her, at his insistence, and Talia had jumped at the chance to do so. She couldn’t bear to have people over at the house these days, not when the place still had fall decorations and even her lame Christmas tree up.
She couldn’t bear to take any of it down.
Austin had done the decorating in October, loving the colors of autumn, and he’d begged her incessantly to let him put things up. She’d reluctantly relented, and while it wasn’t the job she would have done, it wasn’t half-bad. He’d been well on his way to putting the Christmas tree up, which she’d put a stop to, but he’d sworn that he would make it an autumn tree, he just wanted the lights to help make it magical.
Talia had gone with it, with the underlying hesitation all mothers everywhere understood, and secretly planned to take it down once his fascination with it had faded.
The accident had come before he’d lost interest, and the tree had never come down.
Maybe it never would.
She shook her head, bringing herself back to the sunshine of the day. It was warmer than it had been lately, but the wind still held the same cutting edge to it. Would spring and summer be warmer for her as well? Had the last several months been more miserable because of the natural chill and gloom of winter? Could she find rays of hope in the sunshine that would gradually increase in the world?
It seemed too much to hope for, but Talia needed help somewhere. Or from someone. She couldn’t do this by herself—she’d failed too many times to try further. It had taken her long enough to admit that, which seemed momentous, and she hoped it meant she would be open to whatever suggestion Grizz had.