Hadley doesn’t see it. She’s already tugging on my hand, bouncing on her toes the second we step onto the grounds like she’s been waiting all day for this. Like yesterday wasn’t enough to burn through whatever energy she has stored up.
“Mom, hurry,” she says, already pulling me toward the arena. “We’re gonna miss it.”
“We’re not going to miss it,” I answer, even though I let her pull me forward anyway, adjusting my pace to match hers.
The lights cut hard through the dark tonight, sharper than they should be. The music is louder, the announcer’s voice carrying over everything with practiced ease. The crowd feels bigger, tighter, like word got out and more people showed up to see it.
I don’t say that out loud.
I don’t even fully let myself think it.
But the second we find a spot near the rail, my eyes go to the chutes without meaning them to, searching before I can stop myself.
And there he is.
Jace stands off to the side, talking to his brothers, posture loose but focused in a way I didn’t understand yesterday.
Now I do. I’ve seen it before, I know exactly what happens when that gate opens and everything goes from controlled to unpredictable in a single second. It just hits different when it’s him out there.
And I hate that I know it.
“Is he riding again?” Hadley asks, already leaning forward, her small hands gripping the rail like she belongs there.
“I don’t know,” I answer, even though my attention stays locked on him. "I'm sure he is since this is a two night event. I think they will all ride again and find out who is the best rider."
He looks different tonight, less at ease and more aware, like he’s tracking everything around him, from the chutes to the crew to the edge of the arena, instead of just focusing on the ride.
It sets something off in my chest.
Because that doesn’t look like a man getting ready to ride.
That looks like a man expecting something.
I tighten my grip on Hadley’s shoulder without realizing it, grounding both of us at the same time as the announcer calls out the first rider. The crowd reacts, energy building, but I barely register it.
My focus stays on him, on the way he steps closer to the chute, then pauses, saying something to one of the handlers that makes the man shift, nod, and move faster than he was before.
I felt it yesterday.
I feel it stronger now.
“Mom,” Hadley says again, softer this time, like she’s picking up on something even if she doesn’t understand it. “Why does it feel different?”
I glance down at her, surprised by the question, by the way her excitement has dimmed just enough to leave room for something else.
“You tell me,” I say, because I want to hear what she feels without putting words in her mouth.
She shrugs, eyes going back to the arena. “I don’t know. It just does.”
"Yeah. It does."
I lift my gaze again, scanning the crowd this time, the edges, the spaces between people the same way I did yesterday when something didn’t sit right. It takes a second longer than I expect, but then I find it.
The truck.
Parked farther back again, almost hidden in the dark beyond the lights, angled toward the exit like it’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
My stomach tightens.
