Page 21

I came in first at the season opener in Ashford Ridge. A local qualifier barely counts towards ranking, but it counts enough to edge myself forward. This past Saturday in Billings, I moved up another six places from where I started. I am happy with my results, but it’s not enough.

The top fifteen make the championship event. The top ten get the kind of sponsor attention that actually changes a career. I’m 40th, which puts me on the board. It means someone with a clipboard could look at the standings and find my name, but it doesn't mean they're looking yet. It means I'm in the conversation the same way someone in the back of a loud room is technically part of the conversation.

What I need is consistency. Clean runs. Every stop, stacking points in a way that moves me up the board steadily. One good weekend followed by a bad one doesn't build a season — it just averages out to mediocre, and mediocre doesn't get noticed. Mediocre doesn't get me a buckle.

Sheridan this weekend. Then Cheyenne. Then the long haul south to Colorado. Every stop matters now.

I think about Hazel sitting across from me in that booth at the Rusty Spur, hands wrapped around her glass, saying it's an investment like she meant every bit of it. I think about Eli and my parents always encouraging me to make my dreams a reality. I think about the five thousand dollars Clark Ranch sponsored me with. They gave me this. All of them did, and I am not finishing 40th. I owe them better than that.

Suddenly, Chace's brake lights flash ahead of me, pulling me from my thoughts.

Fucking asshole! I swear to God, I’m going to punch him right in the balls. I don’t even care if he likes it anymore.

By the time we pull into the Flying J truck stop, it’s almost noon. Which is honestly a better time than I expected, given the circus act Chace was running the first two hours of the morning. He must have gotten bored somewhere around the second hour, because the brake light games stopped not long after I hung up on him, and he settled into a reasonable speed like a normal human being.

I pull in alongside Dusty's trailer and put the truck in park. Before I can even blink, I'm out the door and moving to the trailer slats to get eyes on him. He shifts at the sound of my boots on the gravel, ears swinging toward me, and puts his nose through the gap to bump my hand.

"Yeah, yeah." I scratch along his jaw. "You did good."

He leans into it, heavy and warm, and some of the highway tension drains out of my shoulders.

"He was quiet the whole way," Chace says from somewhere behind me. "Didn't fuss once."

"He's a good traveler."

"Much better than you."

I don't dignify that with a response.

The Flying J is busy enough to make the parking lot feel like its own little town. Truckers fuel up, families pile back into SUVs, and pickups with trailers tuck into every open space. The scent of diesel hangs in the air, mixing with hot asphalt and fryer grease.

I’m stretching from the ride, taking in everything around me when I spot Eli and Hazel coming through the main doors of the store. They’re each holding a fountain drink, their free hands linked together. Eli is looking down at her, saying something I can't hear, and Hazel tips her face up to answer him with a smile that's just for him, sweet and gentle. My brother looks at her like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever set eyes on. Like every good thing he ever wanted showed up in one person, and he still can't quite believe his luck.

I've never been a fairytale girl. Never made a vision board with a white dress on it or spent much time imagining the person who would come along and complete me or whatever. I have a horse and a circuit dream. A set of goals with a timeline, and that's always been enough to keep me satisfied. I don’t need love, or lust, or anything in the realm of a relationship. I just need myself, Dusty, and my dreams.

But sometimes I wonder what it would feel like. To be looked at like that. Like the stars got arranged specifically with you in mind.

I look away from them before I get sentimental about it and go back to checking Dusty's water.

"There she is." Eli's voice carries across the lot. When he reaches me, he pulls me into a one-armed hug that lifts me half off the ground. "How was the drive?"

"Long." I hug him back. "Dumbass over here” I point my thumb over my shoulder like he doesn't know who I’m talking about, “drove fifteen under the speed limit for two hours."

"I was being cautious," Chace says. "That damn horse spooks easily."

"He wouldn't if he was comfortable with the driver." I shoot back.

"And he’d be even more uncomfortable if we were stranded on the side of the road with a broken wheel bearing."

Hazel stifles a giggle.

Eli looks between us. "First leg of the trip and you two are already going at it, I see."

"We're fine," I say. No way am I letting my brother think I can’t handle anything. Even if that thing is Chace.

"Totally fine," Chace agrees.

Eli doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go, which is one of his better qualities. Hazel goes straight to Dusty next, running her hands down his legs with that quiet focus of hers. She checks his eyes and his water and talks to him in a low voice while he pretends to be above the attention. Then leans into her hand anyway.