Page 1 of Slow Burn

Chapter 1

Lyla

I’m not normally a glass half-empty kind of gal, but today? Today can go right ahead and fuck itself.

Scratch that, the whole week can go fuck itself, maybe even the whole year. It’s only the first week of May, but it’s been an onslaught of bullshit, one catastrophe after the other, insult on top of injury.

“You coming, Ly?” Sutton calls as she strides ahead toward the open air stadium.

To make matters worse, my best friend has dragged me along to the Sage Valley Rodeo, my least favourite weekend activity in my hometown. Sutton is well aware of this, but she insisted I tag along. I guess she’s afraid I’ll just sit around alone and mope if I don’t have something to do.

She’d be right, and I hate to admit that.

I am not one to mope. I don’t sulk, I don’t whine, I hardly even frown. I pick myself up by my bootstraps and get on with things, taking every setback as a sign from the universe there’s something bigger and better out there for me.

I’ve just been having a harder time doing that this time around. I really thought I’d made it, you know? So, getting fired was a kick in the teeth and unfortunately for me, the only person I have to blame is myself.

“I’m only staying for an hour,” I say once I catch up and match her steps.

The sun is hot, the late morning air hazy with heat and dust as Sutton leads me through the back entrance of the staging area. Horses nicker softly as we pass them, one of them reaching its muzzle over a fence and nibbling the sleeve of my t-shirt. I reach up to give it a pat as it stares at me with its soulful eyes.

“The second you have to tend to an injured animal, I’m gone,” I add.

Sutton is the only large animal and equine vet in town, and in all the neighbouring towns too, which means she’s in high demand, especially through the summer during rodeo season. She attends all the events and waits on standby if any of the animals need care.

And they do, often. Sutton is amazing at her job. She treats every animal with care and love.

“That’s fine,” she says. “I get it, I do. The rodeo isn’t for everyone. But it’s not as evil as you make it out to be.”

I generally prefer animals to most people. It doesn’t matter what size, species, whether they’re cute or homely, I love them all.

But I am not a fan of the rodeo.

“I never said it was evil,” I retort. “It just goes against every single one of my values, Sutton. You know that.”

Sutton and I have had this discussion before, so she doesn’t press the point. She knows she isn’t going to change my mind. She opts instead to let a silence fall between us, her tall brown leather boots making heavy footsteps on the concrete as she strides out to our spot next to the arena.

Growing up around the rodeo, I hated watching how the animals were treated–when they didn’t perform, getting flipped from rodeo to rodeo, being made to buck and kick. It commodifies animals in a way that makes my heart ache, makes a spectacle of these gentle creatures. It just feels wrong.

The rest of Sage Valley, however, doesn’t agree.

The seats are nearly full already, hundreds of people from Sage Valley and neighbouring towns coming to either compete, cheer on their friends or family, or just have a day out. People here love the rodeo, they live for it. It’s an integral part of the culture out here in the prairies.

And I can think of a million things I’d rather be doing, and a million places I’d rather be. All of them would be air conditioned and none of them would smell like fried corndogs, sugared mini donuts, and eau de horse shit.

We have prime seating, at ground level, next to the exit where riders will come to bring their horses to the cool down ring, or to brush themselves off after getting dusted by an angry bull. The front row view is utterly wasted on me.

“You never did tell me why you’re back in town,” Sutton says, taking a seat on a bench reserved for rodeo staff. I sit next to her and pretend to be heavily invested in the barrel racing event so I don’t have to look her in the eye when I tell her the truth.

I recognize the woman getting ready for her run as Skye Hollis, the youngest of the Hollis siblings. Beck, her brother, is my brother Austin’s best friend. How? I’m not sure. They couldn’t be more opposite.

Austin can be a hot head, but deep down he’s passionate and caring. Beck, on the other hand, is sullen and scowly. Closed off and broody. I’ve always had the distinct impression he doesn’t like me. Even as kids, he put as much distance between us as possible, finding excuses to not hang around if I was there, looking visibly put off when Austin said I’d be tagging along. He begrudgingly watched out for me, as he would his own sister, only because he cared about Austin like his own family.

I’m too much for him. I’m bubbly and bright, loud and opinionated, and I think that makes him uncomfortable. To be fair, I think it makes a lot of people uncomfortable. My personality gets me in trouble a lot of the time, and I’m facing the consequences in a dire way now.

“I lost my job,” I admit finally.

The barrel racing starts, the crowd whooping and hollering with every competitor who finishes, and groaning whenever a barrel gets knocked down. Skye dominates and everyone from Sage Valley erupts in cheers.