I’m ready to see how my film lands with the community of Sable Sky, how they’ll feel about my editing choices and interviews I’ve selected, how they’ll like the scoring and the way I interpreted and presented rodeo culture to the audience. I’m excited, I’m nervous, and I’m ready.
I’m really trying very hard not to focus on Landry.
Foolishly, I stayed up and read all of Landry’s notes. I didn’t expect to find any answers, and I didn’t, but what I saw was love. I saw longing. I felt the pain between us in his scrawled words of regret and desire.
I don’t like that he couldn’t explain Jenna, I don’t like the way that moment made me feel. But for Sadie, for myself, for Landry, for the sake of everything we’ve built together in the last few months—I owe him a conversation.
My phone rings as I sink into my bed, ready for a quick catnap before showering and getting ready for the evening. Working hard with a broken heart is, I’ve learned, quite exhausting.
“Hey, Mom,” I greet, closing my eyes as the ceiling fan coats me in a layer of cool relief.
“I have good news,” she beams. The unfortunate thing about Devin getting me into the Indie Film Awards as a nominee is that we had to speed up the premiere. Speeding itup meant my mom and sister were left scrambling for flights in just three days.
Sadly, they couldn’t book one in time to get here today, what with Laney’s volleyball game and Mom’s work.
“Tomorrow morning,” she announces. “We leave SFO at 1010. We’ll be there before dinner!”
I kick my feet and squeal. “Oh my god!” Tears fill my eyes. I’d been so preoccupied with my life here that I’d managed to somehow shelve just how much I miss my family. “I cannot wait to see you guys!”
“Uh, I know. I miss my baby,” Mom says softly, the term of affection coming from one of the people I love most in this world causing my eyes to mist. But her next question reroutes me. “Any updates on Landry?”
I pull at the loose thread on my pajama shorts and open my eyes, blinking up at the popcorn ceiling. “I’m… gonna talk to him. Tonight.”
Mom sounds relieved when she says, “Good, I’m glad. I really think there will be an explanation. Truly, honey. I do.”
My eyes water. “I’m so bummed you guys can’t make it tonight; stupid Devin.”
“But we’ll be there tomorrow and maybe we can have another little screening, at the inn. Intimate family screening?” she suggests as I envision us under the Edison lights, the film on the portable big screen casting a glow along our tangled bare feet as we lie engrossed inThe Comeback Rider.
“That sounds nice.” It really does.
“I can’t wait to meet Sadie,” she says, and that brings another rush of sadness instead of the excitement I felt when envisioning my family meeting Landry and Sadie, before all of this mess.
My voice is lined with forced happiness, not because Idon’t want them to meet but because now it feels different, and tainted. “Me too.”
“I’m proud of you for having lunch with Sadie every day, even though I know it was hard for you to go back to that ranch with no resolution.”
I’m proud of myself, too. “I love Sadie. No matter what, she’s part of my life now.”
Silence fills the line for a moment before Mabel fists the door. “Sugar, the caterers will be here in an hour.”
“I gotta go get ready, Mom. I can’t wait to see you. Text me when you take off tomorrow, and text me when you land.” She never lets me pick her up from the airport. She says it’s a headache that shouldn’t be shared, and she’s already rented a car, so I don’t bother pressing again. “Love you. Tell Laney hi. See you tomorrow.”
“Good luck tonight. I’m so proud of you, Quinn.”
The Sable Sky Inn buzzes with a warmth that only small-town gatherings can create. Folding chairs scrape against the worn tile, the scent of fresh popcorn and coffee drifting through the air. Edison lights twinkle overhead, casting a soft glow on weathered faces—ranchers in their best button-downs, families with kids perched on laps, and rodeo-goers in their finest hats and denim.
I stand near the back, heart hammering against my ribs, watching my documentary unfold on the makeshift screen. The film I’ve poured my soul into—The Comeback Rider—plays out in vivid color Landry, strong and determined, training for his comeback as a bareback bronc rider, the dust rising up from beneath furious hooves, the quiet moments of doubt in the barn at dawn, and the raw grit that makes himwho he is. Gasps ripple through the audience when he takes that first wild ride after training for weeks. Tears well in eyes when he speaks about his late wife, and my mind veers back to our argument about this part of his life being in the film.
Next come the cheers—loud, unfiltered whoops—as the final scenes show him conquering Twister, the bronc that hurt his neck on the previous ride, crossing that invisible finish line of his own making.
Laughter mixes with sniffles. Mabel wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. A young mother hugs her daughter tight, both smiling through happy tears. Their applause is thunderous as the credits roll. My chest swells with a fierce, glowing pride. It isn’t just a film. It's their story too—Sable Sky's story—and they clearly felt every second of it.
A hit.
In this room, at least, it is a resounding hit, and the validation settles over me like the softest blanket. I accept praise and tears of thanks from Love Collier, and Tate, too. Dr. Vargas hugs me and thanks me for everything I’ve done for Landry, and for Sable Sky.
Then my gaze finds him.
