Page 1

Prologue

Noble

Eight seconds.

Eight of the most terrifying, exhilarating seconds of my life.

And I’d won.

I stood on the podium holding a trophy. World Champion.

I’d done it. Finally. The strongest bull, the most control, the highest score.

Ninety-two points. Eight seconds. One man left standing.

Me.

I’d given up everything for this dream. Chased it for years.

Soak it in, Noble, I’d thought, feeling the cold metal of the trophy against my bruised, calloused hands. This is what you’ve been working for.

Now, I glance in the backseat of my pick-up truck at the cardboard box where that trophy, and a handful of others, are sticking out the top.

I can still hear the crowd chanting my name.

I turn back around and look out the window. I think about the coaches who got me there. The competitors who made me better. The broken bones and the sore back and the ripped-up hands. I rub them together now, studying the grooves.

I shift in the front seat. I think about the agent and manager who took a chance on a scrappy kid who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. A kid who didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I narrow my eyes and focus on the sign that’s standing about fifty yards in front of me . . . and my mind goes back a bit further. Because this is where it all began.

I’m fourteen, driving into this town for the first time. I’m angry and scared, and I knew right away I wouldn’t fit in. The kids here wore belt buckles and cowboy boots. I wore Converse and graphic T-shirts.

I didn’t come to this town because I wanted to be a cowboy. As far as I knew, cowboys shot each other in the street at high noon.

I came here because I got dumped here.

Dropped at a bus station in Tuscon by a mom who “couldn’t deal with me anymore,” and sent to Nowheresville, Montana.

Second chance? More like a prison sentence.

But then I met her.

A girl with long brown braids and dark brown eyes and a wicked sense of humor. A fierce friend, a whip-smart spitfire, and someone who always told the truth. No matter what.

She’d make a heck of a bull rider, honestly.

I clench my jaw. I took her for granted. I took everyone for granted.

And then I left. No, not left.

Ran.

Couldn’t possibly have realized how rare a thing I had here. I was a stupid teenager—how could I know?

If I did, maybe I would’ve thought twice before I threw it all away.

I glance at the trophy box again. I stood on that podium with that trophy in my hands and all I could think was . . . I want to go home.