Page 42 of Sunrise & Serenity

I get up, grab my laptop off the table, and settle back on the couch. After closing the photos I was editing earlier, I open a web browser and pull up the list of residencies I’ve had bookmarked for years.

Spain. Italy. London. Berlin.

I might not have an international reputation, but I’m not applying straight out of college either. I have four years of exhibitions, published work, and a portfolio I’ve spent years building.

The next few hours slip by in a blur of portfolio selections, artist statements, and project proposals. Most of the portfolio and supporting material already exists from my New York work, though I still find myself second-guessing everything I include.

I rewrite the proposal twice before settling on the version that sounds most ambitious. It leans heavily on the urban work I’m known for. It isn’t the only kind of photography I love, but it’s the strongest fit for the portfolio I’ve built.

After that, I comb through photographs from exhibitions, magazine features, and gallery submissions, selecting only the best. Images of forgotten corners of the city, old buildings captured in perfect light, and ordinary moments transformed by careful composition. Images chosen because they’re striking. Designed to make people stop and look.

Eventually, I hit send on my final submission, then shut my laptop and slump back against the cushions.

Nothing might come of it, but nothing will if I don’t even try.

My future is in my hands. I just have to choose it.

CHAPTER 11

HOLDEN

The sun is just starting to dip toward the mountain peaks as I stride toward the main barn. This morning, before Sage disappeared to photograph some of the completed guest cabins, I told her to meet me at the round pen this afternoon for her first riding lesson.

Now I’m regretting it. I’ve been out wrangling calves with my brothers most of the day. My shoulder aches, but that’s nothing new, and it’s not why I’m wishing I hadn’t scheduled this lesson.

I’m tired. Not because calf wrangling is hard work—though it is. I’m tired from trying to figure out where I fit with my brothers after all the years I was gone. They work together like a well-oiled machine, while I still seem to circle them from the outside, looking for a way in.

They’re not doing it deliberately—hell, I wouldn’t blame them if they were—but when you’re working with livestock, there’s no time to second-guess yourself. You react on instinct, and their instinct isn’t to look for me.

After entering the barn, I head for the tack room. Since Sage has already met Cozy, I figure she’ll be the best mount for her to learn on. I collect her gear, then make my way to the mare’s stall. After giving her a quick groom, I slip a halter on her, gather up her tack, and lead her down to the round pen.

I’ve just tied Cozy to the fence post when my cell rings. After setting her tack over the top railing, I dig the phone out of my back pocket.

It’s Rick.

I pick up. “Hey, man.”

“Holden, hey. I was half expecting to get your voicemail again.”

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “Yeah, sorry. Things have been busy here the last few days.”

“Uh-huh. Did you look over the details I sent you?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure.” I blow out a breath. “If I’m gonna come back, I’d rather be more hands-on, not just a spokesperson.”

“There’s only so much hands-on shit you can do without getting your ass on the back of a bull. You sure that’s not an option?”

With my eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You heard the doc as well as I did. I can ride again, once, maybe twice. But if my shoulder takes another rotational hit, there’s a good chance I won’t regain function.”

He hums. “Some riders would take that risk.”

I grip the phone hard enough to leave a damn imprint. “Yeah, some do. And some don’t make it out the other side in one piece. Given the nerve damage I’ve already suffered, the chance of hanging on to my title is slim to none. I love bull riding, man. You know that. But I don’t want to risk it all just so the fans can gush about my amazing comeback right up until I start sliding down in the rankings. And if I end up with only one functioning arm, I won’t even be of use here at Wild Ember.”

Rick lets out a heavy sigh, probably thinking about the money he’s going to be losing out on. But he knows me well enough by now not to push. “Right. I’ll cross off brand ambassador and guest appearances. What about commentating?”

I tip my head back and squint up at the sky. “Better than nothin’, but not as good as team trainer.”

His chuckle is dry. “Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”