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The noise becomes one solid roar around me, dirt flying while the bull bucks hard enough to knock my teeth together. My hand aches inside the glove, the rope biting tighter with every jump. It’s in these few seconds that everything in my head finally goes quiet. There are no bills, no Nana, no Eli, and no wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life.

For a few seconds, I know exactly who I am again. And God, I’m fucking good at this.

The crowd gets wilder, but I don’t need to see the clock to know I’m close. Years of doing this have burned eight seconds into my bones.

The buzzer sounds before the bull can shake me loose. I beat the clock, get clear, and make it over the rail to the sound of the crowd losing its mind behind me. It was a damn good ride, but for once I don’t give a shit about the score. My eyes search the crowd for Addie, but I don’t see her anywhere. Someone else is standing where she was, and my stomach drops.

I’m already moving toward the crowd when Wyatt catches the back of my vest.

“Walker. Your bull.”

“Fuck.” I turn toward the pens and hear the bastard slam into one of the temporary panels hard enough to rattle the entire line. At a real rodeo, somebody else would deal with him. Out here, Cole sent the bull with me, which means he’s my problem until he’s loaded back into the trailer.

Glancing toward the rail again, I still can’t spot Addie. “I thought you were going to get her?” I’m fucking pissed he didn’t catch her before she disappeared.

“Go deal with the bull,” Wyatt says. “I’ll find your girl and make sure she gets back to camp.”

It takes me longer than I want to settle the bull. The half-drunk idiots working the pens aren’t helping, and twice I have to stop somebody from crowding him into one of those flimsy panels. I might be dumb enough to ride bulls for money, but I’m not careless with them. There’s a difference.

By the time I finally get him loaded and secured, thunder is rolling somewhere in the distance, and the first drops of rain have started hitting the dirt. Wyatt appears again as I’m checking the trailer latch.

“Found her.”

I straighten immediately. “Where?”

“She’s fine. Tyler Jennings was heading toward the campgrounds, so I sent her with him.”

I know Tyler. Married, two kids, rides the legitimate circuit. About as safe a person as Wyatt could’ve found for her to ride back with. That eases the knot in my stomach, but only slightly.

I check the latch again, making damn sure Cole’s bull is secure before stepping away. By then, the rain is coming down steadily, tapping against the trailer roof while people scatter toward trucks and tents. All I want to do is leave. Instead, I shove my wet hair back from my forehead and head toward the makeshift payout table. I still have to collect the money, drop this fucking bull at the meetup location Cole gave me, and then I can get back to camp and face Addie.

The second I kill the engine at our campsite, Addie steps out of her camper and into the rain, soaking through her thin nightshirt in seconds. Not the time to be having dirty thoughts, asshole. By the time I climb out of the truck, her hair is already sticking to the sides of her face, and her arms are folded tight across her chest as she watches me come around the hood. Judging by the look on her face, I’m about to get my ass handed to me.

Instead, she just looks up at me for a long moment before saying, “You’re so fucking lucky Wyatt sent me home when he did.” She takes another step closer. “You’re riding again? How freaking reckless can you be?” The last part comes out more choked.

“Sunshine, I can explain.” I try for my usual grin, because I know how to deal with Addie pissed off at me. I have no fucking clue what to do with the way her voice just broke.

“Don’t Sunshine me.” Her voice is quiet, but the way it catches makes me stop trying to charm my way through this. “You disappeared again, Chace. After I specifically asked you to stop shutting me out. Then I happen to walk into that place and find you sitting on the back of a fucking bull, which nearly killed you the last time.”

She wipes rain from her face, staring at me like she genuinely can’t understand what the hell I was thinking. “That place was shady as hell; you’re risking the shoulder that already ended your career, and for what? A quick paycheck?”

“I knew I could ride. My shoulder’s been fine.” I shake my head. “Those circuit doctors don’t know shit.”

Her mouth falls open. “Oh, well, thank God. You managed eight seconds without your shoulder falling apart, so clearly the doctors were wrong, and none of the rest matters.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Why risk it?”

“You shouldn’t have been there tonight. That place wasn’t safe.” Even I know I’m deflecting, but apparently that doesn’t stop me.

“Oh, but YOU were safe?” She takes another step toward me. “And you don’t get to turn this around on me because you don’t want to answer the question. Why were you there?” She studies me for a second, some of the anger giving way to confusion. “Because I refuse to believe you’re doing all of this just to chase some adrenaline high.”

I drag a hand through my wet hair and look away from her. I don’t know how to explain something I barely like admitting to myself. “I miss it.” I finally whisper

Her brows pull together, and some of the anger leaves her face. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. So I keep going.

“I fucking miss it, okay? I miss climbing into a chute and knowing exactly what I’m supposed to do. I miss being good at something that was mine. I was really fucking good at this, Addie. For years, I knew exactly who I was. I rode, I won, I got paid. People knew my name because I earned it. Then my shoulder gave out, and one day somebody basically told me that part of my life was over, and I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell comes next ever since.”