Untamed

by Shey Stahl

  That’s exactly it. For the first time since Jamie, and four years to the date he died, I fell in love with someone. It was something I never thought possible but it happened.

  I think about Haylee’s mom, Annie. She had stable, predictable, and look where that got her? A widower. You can prepare all you want, but it’ll never stop fate from sending you a nice “fuck you” curveball.

  “My name is too average,” Haylee notes, staring at the waitress’s name tag. “I should change it to something more . . . I don’t know, wild?”

  “Like they do when you become a Muslim or something like a tribal thing?”

  She nods.

  I point to my phone. “Urban Dictionary says your name is tough, feisty, adorable, sympathetic, sexy, shy, girly, but tomboyish. Someone who has a big heart and is a great friend.”

  “Did they just throw words together?” she snorts, reaching for her sweet tea. “Who makes that up? What’s your name say?”

  “My spelling isn’t in there.”

  “See.” She sets her tea down. “I want a name where even Urban Dictionary is like, bitch, I got nothing on you.”

  I laugh. “Just because your name is in there doesn’t mean you’re not one of a kind. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “While I appreciate that, you haven’t exactly met many people in your life, babe. You’ve never been outside Washington.”

  “Not true. I’ve been all over the south now.”

  Haylee laughs. “True. We’re wandering souls now.”

  “I think he loves you,” Haylee notes when we’re almost to the arena.

  “Why would you say that?” My heart beats faster at the words, wondering how she could tell.

  “I see the way he watches you. I think that’s what scares him,” Haylee says, keeping her eyes on the road. “Ty says love scares Grayer because he can’t choose between it and riding.”

  Yeah, clearly it does. “Too bad he can’t figure out what he wants.”

  Haylee sighs. “I’m sorry, honey. Want me to knock some sense into him?”

  “No, that’s okay.” We’re late getting to the arena and once we’re inside, Britany finds us, without Wyatt. I guess her parents are watching him this weekend.

  Grayer’s in the chute getting ready for his ride. I tell her what happened and see her face.

  She wraps her arms around mine as we take a seat, same front row seats we always have. “I’m sorry. Grayer doesn’t know a good thing even if it punches the fucker in the face.” When I watch Grayer in the chute, my heart aches so badly. He looks conflicted and I wonder if he’s thinking about what he said to me and if he regrets it. Maybe he’ll take back what he said?

  Not likely.

  And then he looks up as if he knows I’m here, his eyes immediately finding mine in a crowd of thousands. The look he gives me rips my heart out. Like I really am a distraction. The reason he can’t concentrate.

  He shakes his head at a question from Reid, gives me one last look and then nods. The bucking shoot opens and Catcher barrels out into the arena. He spins and rears once, twice, and then comes down hard and Grayer’s thrown over the side of the bull, landing on his knees. You can see he’s in obvious pain, slow to get up but then he looks at me like he’s telling me with that look that he’s nothing when I’m here. Without turning back around, he heads toward the arena fence.

  Pulling in a shaking breath, tears roll over my cheeks as I turn and walk up the steps. It’s clear he really doesn’t need me around.

  A rider is seeded if he is ranked among the top 45 bull riders.

  I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have said any of that to her. I want to tell her my tone, the hatred, aggression, all of it isn’t her. It’s all on me and I’m fucking it up. I should apologize, but then what good would it do? When trust is broken, sorry means jack shit. When you act out of anger and fear, you hurt people you didn’t intend to hurt. Or did I intend to hurt her? I think part of me wanted to, so she’d leave. But she didn’t. As if I expected anything less of her.

  Britany punches my shoulder in the locker room after I’m bucked off. “What the fuck was that about?”

  I take a rag and wipe the sweat from my face. “What are you talking about?” I look at her, then Reid, who’s giving me that older brother, “you know you fucked-up” look.

  “With Maesyn. You invited her here. You can’t just change your mind because your dumb ass got spooked. You’re acting crazy.”

  She’s absolutely right, but she hasn’t seen crazy yet. “You’re not my mother, B. I don’t have to talk to you about this.”

  “Yeah, sure, but I’m your best friend. That gives me the right to tell you when you’re acting like a dick. And you’re acting like a big fat cock at the moment.”

  Reid and the other guys in the locker room laugh. Britany may seem sweet and innocent, or maybe not at all, but she tells me off when I need it. Like now.

  “Get out of here.” I try to push her away from me but she gets back in my face.

  “You need to make this right. If she’s a distraction, that’s on you for not having enough dedication to concentrate.”

  “You were the one that warned me to be careful of her.”

  “I meant be careful with her, dummy. I was looking out for that sweet girl you seduced.”

  My jaw clenches. “Well, you could have been more specific.”

  “No way. You’re not blaming this on me. What makes you think you can’t have her and a championship?”

  I lean back against the wall, wishing she’d shut up. “She’s a distraction.”

  “No, you let her become a distraction. You have everything you’ve ever wanted, or can go out and buy it. Wyatt is set for life. What makes you think you can’t have her and a career?”

  I hadn’t thought of it like this. All I was focused on was one, the championship, and two, Maesyn being young. I didn’t want to be the one who ruined her. And I did, despite my efforts not to because that’s what I’m good at.

  Ty stands next to us, his arms crossed over his chest. “He thinks he’s cursed because he made a wish into Mel’s hole when we were kids and can’t have love.”

  That motherfucker. I scowl at Ty, feeling the need to defend myself. “I told you that in confidence.”

  He laughs and nudges my shoulder. I want to hit him. “Or shit-faced drunk, but whatever. It’s a stupid concept.” He shakes his head. “You’re not cursed. You’re an asshole who needs to go grovel to the girl of his dreams.”

  The dread, the draw to go find her, it radiates through me, but pride can be a motherfucker. Britany steps forward, knowing me better than I know myself. “What’s the real reason?”

  I chew on my lip and draw in a deep breath knowing she’s never going to leave me alone until I tell her. “Her boyfriend died when she was fourteen. Died in a car accident. So what if something happens to me? What will that do to her?”

  And that’s all I have to ask before Britany gets it. She understands where I’m coming from, even if deep down, I might not completely understand my behavior.

  The "short go" or "short go round" is a slang term for the 25th PBR: Unleash the Beast Championship Round. (see also 25th PBR: Unleash the Beast Championship Round)

  Haylee and I end up staying the night in Thackerville at the WinStar World Casino and Resort with the rest of the bull riders, but I don’t see Grayer at all that night. Haylee tells me he doesn’t leave his room.

  And neither do I.

  The next day, I go to the outdoor arena, but I don’t sit with Haylee and Britany. I want to stay away from Grayer’s vision to see if I’m really the problem.

  He gets tossed off his bull in the first four seconds and finishes fifteenth overall in the round.

  When Jamie died, I thought to myself, this is the worst feeling in the world. Like slowly, I may be dying inside, or already there.

  After the event, everyone’s in the bar celebrating, Ty won his first pro event. It’s a big deal for him. H
aylee’s there with him, all dressed up and looking great. I stay in the corner near Britany and Reid, contemplating how I’m going to get home later. I can’t stay here and there’s no way I’m pulling Haylee away from this.

  Reid hands me a rum and Coke. “Here. Looks like you need this.” His voice sends a spark to my heart because he sounds like Grayer.

  I smile, taking the drink and see Grayer for the first time since the event. His mournful shoulders hunch as he walks, his head down. My heart tugs and I want to follow, but I know I can’t.

  You’ve let me down, heart.

  I hate this feeling that comes over me. It hurts so bad and burns even worse.

  So I drink. And Reid helps me, stealing drinks every so often. Before I know it, I’ve had ten and I’m dancing with Henry, another rider. He’s whispering to me, touching places only Grayer has touched recently.

  I know what this means. I know where this is going, but I do nothing to stop it.

  Henry and I are at the bar, waiting for drinks when I hear, “You’re with Henry now?”

  I turn to face him, my heart thudding loudly when I see those eyes and that face so close to me again. “Why do you care?”

  Grayer smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s forced. “I don’t, but it didn’t take you long, did it, honey?” His words are delivered slowly but have a strange impact on me. His voice is deep when he speaks, scratching at me and leaving blood in its wake. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to me right then. The exact words to make me hate him.

  “Hey, Gray,” Henry says, smiling at him, his hand around my shoulders. I know why he did that and fuck if I didn’t lean into him. As if to say, you had your chance, Grayer.

  “It’s Grayer.” He smiles, a little provoking and points to a poster in the bar. “You know, the defending world champion.”

  Henry laughs. And then he turns to me. “Ready to get out of here?”

  Grayer doesn’t like that at all. He shakes his head in annoyance, the hatred present in his glare toward Henry.

  “Yes,” I reply immediately, walking away and then reaching out to grab Henry’s hand. Grayer tenses, his jaw tightening as he watches a hand he used to reach for, in the hands of another man.

  “Maesyn!” Grayer shouts after me. I don’t turn around. “I’m fucking talking to you, Maesyn. Don’t you walk away from me!”

  I turn immediately and glare. Oh God, do I fucking glare at him. “You told me to walk away. You told me to leave. So you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

  His face flushes at the remark, and I think he’s going to say something else. Maybe break me down completely. Only he doesn’t. I watch his face and his dim-lit eyes, refusing to register a reaction. Nothing. It gives nothing. Then he blinks and it’s all at once, like my love for him. The rage hits him. When his eyes meet Henry, the chaos in his head is clear. He looks livid.

  He pushes past me, knocking his shoulder into mine but then stops, wanting to steal another piece. “Yet here you are . . . still here.” He’s being an asshole. He’s trying to be. He nods to Henry, waiting for me at the door. “You look pretty comfortable already. Guess that’s really your thing, huh?”

  I walk away. Again.

  A bull that fades during a ride moves backward while simultaneously spinning or bucking in one or more directions.

  Reid shoves me. “You better fucking do something about that.” He points to Maesyn and Henry. “Or I’m going to. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  For such a quiet guy most of the time, he sure has a lot to say now, doesn’t he? I snort, downing my fifth shot in the last two minutes. “She made her choice.”

  He shoves me harder. “You either walk out of this bar and go get her or I’m going to, and you’re not going to like what happens next.” He raises an eyebrow and goes for what he knows will get a rise out of me. “Is this who you want your son thinking his dad is?”

  I drop the shot glass in my hand and shove Reid back. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  I clench my hands and squeeze my eyes tight. There’s an emptiness inside me knowing I’ve been so blind. My stomach rolls and there’s a really good chance I might vomit.

  What have I done? More importantly, did I just drive her into the arms of another man all because of my goddamn pride?

  Anger shoots through me and I think of her in my truck singing “Friends in Low Places” at the top of her lungs and Ty losing a bet to her about how many tacos she could eat. I think of him wearing those fake eyelashes for an entire day and the way she giggled every time he batted his eyelashes as her. I think of rain storms and midnight, sunrises and sunsets . . . and the way she looked holding Wyatt when he fell asleep in her arms.

  I can’t lose this girl. I fucking can’t.

  Fuck this. She’s mine.

  If a rider is fouled, it means something happened during the eight-second ride that gave the bull an unfair advantage over the bull rider. This can include the bull rubbing on or hitting the bucking chute at the start of the ride or the flank strap falling off the bull before the ride is over. When a foul occurs, the judges often award the bull rider the option of a re-ride.

  Fuck you, happy ever never. You’ve let me down.

  Before I reach the door, Haylee catches me, holding up her palms and giving me a disapproving look. “Don’t go with him, Maesyn.”

  I shake my head. I shrug. What am I going to tell my best girl? That I’ve failed at finding true love? I can’t ruin hers too.

  I let go of her and step back. She tries again, but I pull away when my eyes find Grayer’s over her shoulder. I swallow hard, anger and humiliation washing over me with his penetrating stare.

  There’s a feeling deep in my bones that won’t go away, no matter how hard I try to make it. It spirals inside me, wrapping around my heart, tugging at my soul. It’s suffocating me, drowning, dying, slow and so painful it’s excruciating. It’s as though my heart is going to shatter, and I wish it would because maybe it’d stop the pain.

  My body shakes when I step into the night, ignoring Haylee’s pleas. The sky is dark, angry clouds moving in, but it does nothing to the humidity. If anything, it makes it even more unbearable, like walking into a steamy shower.

  I shake my head and attempt to clear my thoughts.

  Henry reaches for my hand. It’s not the hand I want to hold. It’s not the comfort I want.

  What I want hates me.

  “Your past won’t follow you on the road.”

  I call bullshit on that starry night. My past did follow me.

  I ache so bad. Tears sting my eyes, burn like drops of acid. My chest feels heavier with each step in the parking lot. I can barely see to get in Henry’s truck with the tears, a lifted Chevy parked near the highway.

  I hate myself for what I’m about to do. I hate myself even more when I think about Grayer’s expression and the way he spoke to me. Hatred makes you do things you said you wouldn’t. It makes you believe that maybe you deserve that pain you’re dealt.

  Inside the truck, the leather’s warm on my bare legs. I slide over closer to Henry, my body seeming robotic in a sense. Like if I don’t think about this, it’ll be okay. If I don’t think, I won’t hurt. Right? I know what I’m about to do is wrong, but when Henry reaches for the button of his jeans, I know what he’s expecting of me.

  “What do you want?” I ask, anxiety, regret, and disgust laced in my words. I run my hands down my face, wiping tears away. I can feel Grayer in my beating heart. It’s filling my visions with memories of rainy nights in his truck and his buckle. His starry eyes and the way his slow southern drawl always made me smile.

  I stare at my hands in my lap and think of Grayer’s when he reached down and grabbed my hand that first night, palm to palm, and the way I never wanted him to let go.

  He let go.

  I breathe in, counting the beats in my chest, waiting for Henry to tell me what he wants.

  “I think you know,” he final
ly says, gripping my thigh.

  His touch . . . it’s nothing like Grayer’s touch. His touch is embedded deep in my bones just like the memory of him breathing out, “You’re addictive,” as we made love on Route 66 just before sunrise over a purple sky outside Hinton, Oklahoma.

  My eyes water, my throat burns, and my hands shake. Hot tears fall from my red-rimmed eyes and down flushed cheeks. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, shakes my bones, rips at my heart.

  I know what Henry wants from me.

  I don’t want to give it.

  Not again.

  Stop taking.

  My body shifts, facing Henry. The warm leather on my palms reminds me of the heat in Grayer’s touch. Henry’s hand wraps around my hair, fisting. “Come over here.”

  I don’t. I can’t. I push myself away from Henry. “I’m . . . sorry. I can’t do this.” I cry into my palms, spit soaking my lips. I attempt to wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, breathing heavily, calming but shaking deep breaths against my hand. I only cry harder now, sobbing. “I have to go.”

  Henry reaches for my hand and jerks it away. “Don’t be a tease.”

  “I’m not trying to be.” I try to force myself away, crying harder than before. “I thought I wanted to do this, but I don’t.”

  His hardened eyes level me. “The hell you can’t. Get over here and finish what you started back in the bar.”

  I don’t want to look at him, but I do, and I know I’m in trouble. He’s going to force me to do this with him. The idea makes me want to puke. My stomach rolls, the blood pulsing in my cheeks with the beat in my chest. Fire is ripping through my veins, clawing at my lungs, suffocating my heart. He grabs me by my necklace. It gives and unravels like my heart spilling years of memories to the floor boards of his truck.

  “No. I don’t want to—” My words are cut short by a loud thump and the breaking of glass from the driver's side window. The sound causes me to immediately jump. My hands fly to my ears as tiny shards of glass fill the cab, exploding around us. Glass covers my bare legs and hands.