Page 7

I grunt. Last year. And it was two million.

The man whistles. “That ride was epic. Why’d you stop?”

I bristle.

Because of my brothers.

You’ve been dipping your toe into the distillery your entire life, Warren, my older brother, said six months ago. Starting over might feel good. You righted wrongs, you settled your shit with Jack, now come home.

Come home. Easier said than done.

Four years older than me, Jack was my best friend, my idol. When he joined the rodeo, I followed. Even though he was the oldest, the golden child of our family, he was a rebel. He taught us how to get into trouble, then just as deftly, get out of it.

“We do wrong right, kid.” Jack grinned at me as he released the garter snake into the mailbox for our younger brother, River, to find. “Until Mom finds out and tans our asses.”

I cast a wary gaze at the photo of Jack that hangs over the threshold.

I should have died on that bull. Not him.

I exhale, trying to chase the cold from my chest, the memories from my head.

The fight we had. That hot, humid summer night at the bar in Texas. Too many drinks poured. Heated words exchanged, Jack telling me I was an idiot, that cocky smile on his face pissing me off so damn bad, I stormed out. I was eighteen, stubborn and stupid, and I left him there to meet up with some cowboys in the next town. And then—

I shake my head, clearing the scene from my memory.

If I had stayed…he would still be alive.

After that, I almost left the rodeo. At twenty-three, I was close. Close to retiring, to giving it all up and coming home to help Warren raise my younger brothers.

Then I learned Jack was sabotaged. By his greedy fucking manager, Pappy Starr.

So I stayed on the circuit. I kept riding. Kept winning. I bided my time. So hell-bent on revenge I shut out my brothers. I stayed away. Fifteen long years until redemption, until revenge came quick and sweet.

I ended Pappy’s career. I went home.

But I’d be lying if I said I felt any sense of closure.

Guilt and rage claw their way up my throat. I put it to bed. Ended the man who took my brother’s life. And yet, that victory still feels so damn hollow. It’s like I’m stuck. I can’t move forward, and I can’t move back. The future’s black, and I don’t know where it leads.

All I know is I’m here for my brothers.

They needed me, needed help. The barrels they were putting out kept leaking, costing us money. And with Ezra’s daughter having health issues, needing the money for her treatment, Tempest finally dragged me all the way back in.

It’s the curse of our hometown.

Every time one of us has tried to leave, we always get pulled back. By tragedy. By loss.

Now, we refuse to leave. None of us have anything to leave for. Everything’s still here. All our ghosts.

Maybe by being here on the ranch, by making barrels, I can make it up to my brothers for being gone all those years.

“Cole?” Wells’s soft voice floats.

I clear my throat, my mind, glance around the Coop. Everyone’s staring, waiting for an explanation on why I left the rodeo, so I grunt, “Too damn old.”

Ripples of laughter. The blond reaches into her purse, her hooded gaze still on me.

I nudge my chin at Wells, anxious to get back to the barrels. “Wrap it up, Wells.”