Page 163 of Sunrise & Serenity

“Yep.”

Halfway up, a clump of dirt crumbles away beneath my boot. Taryn extends her hand. I shift my weight and reach for her.

The instant my fingers brush hers, the bank gives way beneath my feet. The world tilts violently, and for one terrifying second, all I see is sky. Then a sharp pain cracks across the back of my skull and white light flashes behind my eyes, the air vanishing from my lungs.

Taryn screams my name, and I try to answer, but nothing comes out. The clouds above me spin strangely, and nausea rolls hard through my stomach.

The world around me sounds distant. Muted.

Taryn slides into view above me, panic written all over her face.

“Oh my god. Sage⁠—”

“I’m okay,” I say, but the words come out slurred.

Her eyes are wide and frantic. “Don’t move. You hit your head on a rock.”

I try to answer, but this time, the words won’t come at all.

Overhead, the clouds drift slowly. Darkness pulls softly at the edges of my vision.

“Sage, stay with me, okay? My brothers are on the way.”

I want to tell her not to worry, but the world tilts sideways again. She’s calling my name as my vision goes dark.

CHAPTER 41

HOLDEN

Istand beside the practice arena watching a dozen teenagers take turns on a practice barrel.

Just as I’m disappearing into my head again, the clinic coordinator jogs over. “We’re ready whenever you are, Mr. McBride.”

I glance toward the arena. About twenty kids wait along the fence line, some trying and failing to look relaxed, others staring openly.

A few wear my old sponsor logos on their shirts.

Hell, I remember being their age. Watching riders I admired and thinking they had everything figured out.

The thought almost makes me laugh.

“Mr. McBride? Holden?”

I drag my attention back to the coordinator. “Yeah.”

He smiles. “Let’s get started.”

The next few hours pass in a blur of questions and demonstrations. When the clinic wraps up that afternoon, a handful of kids remain by the arena fence, getting photos and autographs while the sponsor reps pack away banners and promotional signs.

One last kid lingers, probably no more than sixteen. “How’d you know you wanted to ride professionally?”

The answer comes automatically. “I didn’t want anything else.”

He nods like that’s what he was hoping to hear, then jogs off toward his friends.

“Not a bad answer.”

Rick appears, a coffee in each hand, and passes one over.