It all comes flooding back to me.
“Oh yeah, I remember.”
I turn to Jenkins and point to the kitchen.
“I’ll be in there,” I mouth.
He nods.
I point to Carina.
He gets it.
“Joyce is on maternity leave. She’s the proud mother of twins. Her replacement brought up your profile to her boss––who’s also a senior editor. That’s how I caught wind of your story. It seems Joyce was planning on profiling you and a Dawson Fulton since you two dominated the rodeo circuit. I waswondering why it never came to be. After a quick search, I had my answer.”
With a sigh, I hang my head low. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Rhett.”
“Thank you.”
“The video footage… is so… gripping… and tragic,” Molly says.
“It was a pretty horrific experience,” I say, feeling the twist in my gut.
“I have no doubt. Are you…? I mean…”
“Am I back on my feet?” I finish her sentence.
She lets out an awkward laugh. “For a senior editor, that was a poor attempt at finding my words. Yes, how are you holding up?”
“It was a long emotional recovery road, but I’ve come to accept I’ve lost a guy who was like a brother to me.”
“From what I’ve read, you’re no longer on the circuit. Is that right?”
“I couldn’t get back on the horse… pun intended.”
“I can understand that.”
I lean against the kitchen counter and cross my legs at the ankle. “Maybe it’s a good thing Joyce never did that profile. My rodeo days are well behind me. No more glory. No more fans. No more adulation. No more big prizes. I’m just a regular small-town boy these days. In fact, I work as a ranch hand now. Nothing newsworthy about it.”
“I disagree, Rhett.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We don’t often do these cross stories, but I think yours––if it’s something you’d consider––would be perfect.”
I frown at the phone. “I don’t understand.”
“Joyce wanted to do a profile on you specifically relating to books, but I think there’s a bigger story here. There’s thisgrowing fantasy among women to leave the big city in search of a simpler way of life. And, in the process, they’d findthe one… and in this case,the oneis a small-town boy.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“Rhett Sullivan, you’re the ultimate poster child.”
“I am?”
“You jumped into a ring where you knew there was an aggressive and unleashed bull,” Molly says. “Rage. The name says it all, yet you didn’t hesitate––”
