Because now it’s not a coincidence.
Now it’s a pattern.
And whatever’s happening out there in that arena…it’s tied to it.
I look back to Jace, my pulse picking up as he glances toward the same direction for just a fraction of a second before turning back to the chute like nothing happened.
He saw it. He knows it’s there.
Which means whatever this is…he’s already in the middle of it.
The longer I stand there, the harder it is to convince myself that I’m imagining it.
Yesterday, I told myself it was nerves, that watching him ride again after all this time had twisted something in my head and made everything feel sharper than it needed to be.
I told myself it was just the danger of it, the way the arena looks different when someone you care about is the one climbing into the chute.
Tonight, that explanation doesn’t hold.
Because it’s not just him.
It’s everything.
The crew moves differently, not sloppy, not obvious, but faster in some places and slower in others. Like something disrupted the rhythm and they’re still trying to find it again. One handler checks a latch twice before stepping back.
His eyes flicking toward the side of the arena like he’s waiting for someone to say something. Another adjusts a rope and then glances over his shoulder, not at the rider, but at the same stretch of darkness where the truck sits.
I notice all of it.
I wish I didn’t.
“Mom, look,” Hadley says, pointing as the next rider climbs into position, her voice bright again as the moment pulls her back in. “This one’s gonna stay on.”
“I hope so,” I answer, but my attention doesn’t settle the way hers does.
Instead, it keeps shifting.
Back to Jace.
Back to the crew.
Back to that truck.
The rider nods, the gate prepares to open, and for a second everything aligns the way it’s supposed to, the noise rising, the anticipation building, the whole arena leaning into that single moment.
But even then, I can’t shake the feeling that something underneath it isn’t right.
It’s subtle.
Too subtle for most people to notice.
But I’m not most people right now. I’m watching too closely.
The gate opens and the ride explodes into motion, the bull twisting hard, the rider holding on just long enough for the crowd to react before the moment shifts again. It’s clean. Controlled. Exactly what it should be.
And somehow that makes it worse.
Because it tells me whatever went wrong before…wasn’t an accident.
