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Was anyone ever ready to climb onto the back of an irate bronc? He didn’t know what being ready would feel like. Same as when he found himself walking into a fight as a SEAL. There was no way to prepare. Instinct had to take over. Maybe that was why he was here, why he’d been drawn to this sport. He’d always excelled at following his instincts.
Before he could think too much, Thatch climbed the fence, wrapped his gloved hand in the rope, and swung his leg over, sliding into the saddle. Notorious lurched and swayed, already gunning for him.
Kirby did a countdown from three, and then they threw open the gate.
Notorious bucked immediately, but Thatch stayedloose, not fighting the horse’s momentum. They went airborne and then thudded back to the dirt, sending a spray of mud behind them.
“That’s it!” Franco yelled. “What a badass!”
“Straighten up,” Kirby instructed.
Even with a few good jackknives, Thatch was able to hold his posture. Work the spurs, arm raised above his head. The constant bucks jolted him, but he let his body whip forward and back instead of snapping. This was it. The best ride he’d ever taken.
Notorious went into a series of spins, and he fought to hold on, engaging his core for balance and stability the way Lyric had taught him in their yoga session.
“Eight seconds!” Kirby sounded thrilled for once.
Notorious went into a jackknifing spin in the opposite direction and then put on the brakes. Momentum pitched Thatch off the bronc sideways and a hoof caught him in his chest on the way to the dirt, knocking the wind clean out of him.
“Thatch!” Panic raised Lyric’s voice.
He opened his eyes to stare at the metal ceiling over the arena but didn’t even try to breathe yet. He knew better. Whenever he got the wind knocked out of him, he waited a few seconds before taking a small, shallow breath. The harder he struggled, the worse his lungs would hurt.
Rich already had Notorious corralled on the other side of the fence, thank God. Because one more blow from that hoof might end him.
“Are you okay?” Lyric lowered to her knees beside him. “That looked awful. He kicked you! Are you breathing?”
“That was my best ride ever,” he wheezed. Maybe hewouldn’t try to sit up just yet. The pain in his ribs sent stars circling in his vision.
“Dude, you totally rocked that!” Franco stood over him. “He threw you off like a rag doll.”
“That’s usually how it ends.” Thatch slung an arm around his chest. Well, he usually didn’t get kicked on the way down. That was new.
“I would’ve scored that ride in the top ten percent.” Was that pride in Kirby’s voice? “Maybe there is something to that yoga shit after all.”
“Can you sit up?” Concern still pinched at Lyric’s mouth.
“Sure. I can sit up. No problem.” It likely would’ve sounded more convincing if he hadn’t gasped between the words.
“You can’t even breathe.” Lyric gently pressed her fingers into his chest. “Does this hurt?”
Of course it hurt. “I’m good.” He shooed her hands away.
“Do I need to call nine-one-one or something?” Elina had crept over to stand next to Franco.
“Nah.” Kirby nudged Thatch’s shoulder with his boot. “He’ll be fine. Give him a minute.”
“I’ll bet that bronc threw you thirty feet,” Franco marveled.
More like ten, but he let the kid exaggerate. “Top ten percent ride, though.” Thatch looked up at Kirby to make sure he’d heard that right.
“For sure.” His mentor reached out a hand to help him up. “Best ride of your career so far, kid. I think you’ve finally got the feel for it.”
Instead of reaching for Kirby’s hand, Thatch turnedover on his side and then pushed onto his knees, bracing his rib cage against the spiraling pain.
“You need to go to the hospital.” Lyric’s hands were on him again, supporting his back while he stood. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself.”
“Because it’s awesome.” Franco gave him a high five. “You watch. That’ll be me someday.”
