Page 108 of Tame Our Wild

John holds up a hand, his gaze bouncing between us. “I don’t want to know. All I care about is the coaching aspect, given you are both under contract and competing.”

“It really isn’t that big of a deal,” Harlow mutters.

“Not that big of a deal?” John parrots with a condescending laugh. “You both know I’m a fan of yours, but I’m not going to downplay this situation. Do you guys realize the predicament this video has put me in?”

Harlow’s body stills unnaturally.

I remove my hat, placing it on my knee as I pull my fingers through the sweaty strands from my ride. “But there are no official rules against it. Nothing states a rider can’t coach another rider. We help each other out and give advice all the time out there.”

John’s voice lowers an octave. “This is different. I have had several athletes snag me after that video was blasted, saying that if you are coaching Harlow, they think it’s an unfair advantage, considering you are a veteran and have been riding for over sixteen years. And Harlow is a rookie.”

I toss my hand up. “They still have their fucking coaches, John,” I level with him. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. If any of them had lost a coach, I would’ve offered to coach them, too.”

“I don’t doubt that, Colson, but that’s not how your competitors see this. I have other coaches ready to chew my ass out. It doesn’t fucking help that you’ve been sneaking around and lying to everyone.”

“I was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.” Harlow’s genuine admission has me turning toward her.

I try to stop her. “Harlow, you don’t have to—”

Her voice shakes. “I was worried what people would think if everyone found out Colson was coaching me. I was coming back from my injury and needed to get back my sponsors.” She points at her chest. “But I wanted to get them back because I was good enough, not because Colson was coaching me. I told him I didn’t want anyone finding out. It’s my fault this got so out of hand. You’re right, we should’ve just come forward and asked if it was allowed.”

“Harlow.” John sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face in exasperation. “Admitting it now and taking responsibility isn’t going to change this.”

“What do you mean?” she mumbles.

“If this had happened earlier in the season, I would’ve been able to consider this from every angle and make a sound decision. But the timing—” He shakes his head. “Right now, there’s only one option.”

His comment starts to register.

I release a disdainful laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

Harlow’s gaze flits between us as she tries to process what John is saying. Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait long, because John glances at both of us before he says, “I think it’s best you two sit out for the rest of the season. The board and I need to reconvene and discuss the rules about what a competitor coaching another competitor looks like moving forward.”

Harlow’s lip trembles beside me, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Her tears may be silently streaming down her face, but I feel them, like the trails are searing my own flesh, sinking through to my heart that is breaking for her. She’s worked so hard to get here. Too damn hard to let this dream slip through her fingers when she is so fucking close.

My raspy voice slices through the tension. “John—”

“There’s nothing you can say to change my decision, Colson. I’m sorry. This is how it has to be. I wish the circumstances were different, but finals in Fort Worth are next week, and this is a conversation that will take time. Time we don’t have.”

Quiet sobs from Harlow are filling the space, the soft, heartbreaking sounds cutting into my chest like a serrated blade, digging so deep that bile creeps into my throat.

I fucking hate seeing her like this.

I try to place my hand on her thigh, but she instantly bolts up out of the chair and shakes her head. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

Moving around the chair, she rushes toward the door. She flings it open and escapes the room before I can say all the things I want to say to her.

The things I want to say to our commissioner in front of her.

John might have thought he was the only one making a decision just now, but so was I.

Harlow Hartt has always been a walking reminder of my past, only because she is beautifully fearless. Wickedly reckless. A force to be reckoned with because, like Paisley, hearing the word ‘no’ doesn’t taint her spirit; it feeds it.

Before I met her, I fell into this limbo of pushing my problems aside, ignoring the pain, and riding because I felt like walking away from this sport felt like betrayal. Like I’d be betraying Paisley if I let this dream go.

But then Harlow came along, and I was forced to confront everything I tried so hard to keep locked down.

Paisley was right; my fear had manifested into something else. I was trying to help Harlow push past hers so I could keep avoiding my own and keep moving forward without confronting them.