Page 109 of Tame Our Wild

Avoidance kept the wound open; it wasn’t healing.

Now, I know Harlow was placed in my life to be my compass. To show me that my past doesn’t have to be my entire story and that it’s okay to want more—to pursue other things. She was never supposed to break me; she was meant to save me from myself. And as I stand before John, that realization solidifies what comes next for me in this life.

Lifting my head, my eyes settle on John. “This isn’t right, John. You know that. Harlow and I have both worked way too damn hard to get to this point,” I say honestly.

He studies me thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter, because I want him to listen.

“You may think that disqualifying both of us will solve this, but this arrangement was my idea. It started with me, and it should end with me, too.” Creases form between his brows. “We both know it’s time.”

His voice is hoarse. “What are you saying?”

I look John in the eye, unable to stop the smile that pulls at my lips. “I quit.”

His mouth opens in shock. “What?”

The vocalized decision obliterates the weight that was once resting on my shoulders. “I’m done, John. You said there’s more to life than the ride, and you’re right. It’s time for me to chase something else. The PBR is still in my future, but I’m no longer the one riding.”

FORTY-SIX | HARLOW

My cheeks are damp—that sticky, wet feeling after you’ve been crying for hours and can’t seem to stop, even when your eyes are dry and won’t release any more tears.

I’m exhausted, my body tired and sore from my ride, but every time I close my eyes, flashes of that video assault me like the sweetest form of torture that has ruined everything I have worked so damn hard for.

That has ruined everything he has worked for.

But when my eyes are open, my family, staring at me from the booth we are sitting in, with worried looks, isn’t any better.

Melanie obviously knew about Colson and my physical relationship, but my parents were clueless. Clueless until they got an eyeful of their daughter being shoved up against a hotel room door with her rival’s tongue down her throat as he muttered filthy things into her ear that weren’t quiet enough for the phone’s microphone to miss.

Colson and I were so close to the finish, and now here we are, disqualified from riding the rest of the season because our lies caught up with us.

I’d say that I hate Jax for posting that video on Instagram, but in all honesty, I hate myself more for hiding everything the way we did, because I wanted to. John was right; we should’ve come forward about it. I should’ve gotten my head out of my ass long enough to consider the consequences if it came out … well, in the way it did.

As soon as I bolted out of the suite at the arena, leaving John and Colson behind, I grabbed my things out of the locker room. The decision to disqualify us was already made, and there was no convincing our commissioner otherwise. I feel bad that I left Colson without another word, but I’m sure he needed a breather as much as I did, considering he had more to lose than me since that flawless, elite ride pushed him to be tied for first with Jax.

Not to mention, his family and mine were sitting in the first few rows. They became aware of the situation when the crowd started whispering and showing their phones to the people sitting next to them, which is when Mel pulled out her phone to see all the things I was tagged in.

The video was posted an hour before Brian and Dalton showed it to me, but it started as a spark that blew up into a raging wildfire that is still getting traction.

I have no doubt that Jax strategically posted that video to screw with us. He must have posted it right after our earlier meeting, when he caught Colson and me whispering to each other.

After John found me behind the chutes, we waited for Colson to get off the dirt. All I wanted to do was find Jax and kick him in the ass with my pointed-toe cowgirl boots to rip him a new one. I had to hold myself back from doing so when we passed him, leaning against the wall in the hallway near the suite, with that vexing tilt to his lips.

Asshole.

After I grabbed my things, I changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt I keep in my bag. I put up my hood, struggling to find my family amongst the crowd. Some fans and riders were still lingering, mostly those who wanted to witness the aftermath. I kept my head down, walking swiftly until the stuffy arena shifted into fresh air that did nothing to calm my distress.

My mom, dad, and Melanie were silent the entire car ride. I thought they were taking me back to my hotel, but then we pulled into a brewery parking lot. I didn’t realize how much I needed a drink until we walked inside. I’m on my second, and it’s churning in my belly like acid. I’m not sure what I need or what can help with this situation I’ve found myself in now, but it’s not beer.

Regret blooms in my gut, knowing that I didn’t try to find Colson and talk to him after. I wonder if one look at those turquoise eyes would be able to chill the hurt and shame bubbling under my skin.

I pick up my glass, moving my wrist to slosh the liquid up the sides of the glass.

“You’ll get ’em next season.” My dad claps my shoulder from where he is sitting next to me. “You’ve always been our child who bounces back within the same second you’ve been knocked down. You don’t even bother to wipe off the dirt; you wear it like war paint and hit back harder.”

“Hey,” Mel whines, placing her phone flat on the table. I’m sure she’s been keeping up with the buzz of our video.

The thought of scrolling at a time like this makes my head spin, which is why my phone is powered off in my pocket. Not because I’m worried about what I’ll find, but because somewhere over the last few months, I’ve stopped caring about the front. The mask I put up to make myself seem like the untouchable female bull rider that had something to prove. It’s been freeing to ride for me, and only me, and in return, I’ve broken through that barrier that kept me stagnant and unable to perform in all the ways I always knew I could.