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Sylvie’s laughter mingled with theirs, and a swell of warmth filled my chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable just... unfamiliar. These people, these moments—they were the fabric of my past, woven into the present I was building with Sylvie. As we all continued to chat, I noticed the occasional glance down at Sylvie’s midsection. It was subtle, but I knew these people well enough to recognize their curiosity.
As if on cue, Jess nudged me with her elbow and gave me a sly grin. “Duke, is there something you’re not telling us? Our shy friend here seems to be hiding a secret under that coat.”
I shot her a look that was half annoyance, half gratitude for her not beating around the bush. “No secret.”
My chest swelled with a mix of pride and protectiveness. She was mine, and I was hers, whether our hometown liked it or not. When the time came to put it all out there, I felt a wave of uncertainty.
I wasn’t good with words, especially in front of a crowd, but damn if I wasn’t going to try. “Sylvie’s my—”Friend? Girlfriend? Fuck buddy? Roommate? Jesus Christ, man...“Sylvie’s my girl.”
My girl.I let the words roll around in my head for a second.Hell yeah.
That was the only label that seemed to feel right. I wrapped my arm around Sylvie’s waist. She curled into me, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks. Maybe it was a bit possessive, but I saw the way she liked it.
Hell, I liked it too.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Jess beamed at Sylvie. “You did the unthinkable. Saddled old Duke Sullivan.”
Conversation flowed around as competitors began situating for their events, and Sylvie tipped her face to me. “Your girl, huh?” Teasing laughter laced through her words.
I leaned in, my voice low enough for only her to hear. “You’re mine, Sylvie King. Get used to it.”
With an arm around her shoulders, I took in the action. I had to push down my feelings of loss and sadness. A lifetime ago I had thought I’d be at the top of the winner’s podium.
A lucky couple of times, I was.
When she started to look restless and a bit tired from standing, I guided Sylvie to our seats.
Without taking her eyes off the arena, she leaned in. “I thought rodeos were a summer thing.”
“Regular season typically wraps in October, but there’s a lot of money to be won before the summertime grind starts.” I shrugged. “Rodeo world really doesn’t have an offseason. Agood winter run can set up your whole year.” I pointed to the men and women fixing their leathers and getting pep talks from their teams. “Guys are coming out hungry—hammer cocked and ready to go.” Winters had once provided rocket fuel for some of my best seasons. They created momentum and confidence. “The number of rodeos in the winter months is lower, but the few events that do happen tend to have bigger payouts.”
The camaraderie was tangible, the air buzzing with energy and anticipation.
When I looked over, her soft brown eyes were looking at me, studying my face. “You miss it.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to deny it. To stuff down the feelings I didn’t allow myself to feel. Instead, I offered a jerky nod and the truth. “Sometimes.”
Sylvie laced her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder as the events began. A surge of gratitude for these people who’d once been my rivals and teammates washed through me. Life in the rodeo was a long time ago, and despite the bumps and turns, it brought me here.
She was mine, despite the obstacles our families placed in front of us, and in this world where strength and grit were revered, I knew Sylvie was tougher than any bull I’d ever faced.
TWENTY-FIVE
SYLVIE
John Oates
Did you know that at twenty weeks the baby is the size of a troll doll?
Including the hair or no? Oh god...what if it looks like a troll on the screen? I’m cackling.
With a belly button gemstone? Upgrade! Guess we’ll find out. See you in a few.
A weekafter Duke took me to the rodeo, I was smiling down at my phone before walking into Dr. Hokum’s office. Despite his grumbling for not driving me—a few issues at the farm forced Duke to meet me at the office—things were finally looking up. I had managed to make it to the sweet spot of pregnancy that the internet told me about, where I was less nauseated and more energetic than I had been inmonths.
The mid-December wind whipped at my cheeks. The sky sagged with thick, dark clouds that threatened even more snow.
At least we’re having a white Christmas.
