“I hear Austin has a really good veterinary technology program,” Jessie says, hinting to me.
I smile. “I wonder if they have a business administration program?”
“It’s a community college.” She waves me off. “I’m sure they do.”
Jessie thinks I should become a veterinary tech, which I agree with because I ultimately want to work for a veterinary hospital and Jessie wants to start her own business. Although she hasn’t decided what yet, she knows that it needs to be her own.
“Have you heard from Cody lately?”
Jessie stiffens immediately at his name, rolling her eyes. “Only when he wants something.”
I should be that friend that tells Jessie she needs to stay away from him, but that’d be hypocritical of me.
Jessie hands me the rum and I take a small sip and then pass it back to her. We’re not drunk, but I feel the burn in my cheeks.
“I can’t wait to leave here.” She says, staring at the bottle and then setting it aside. “Where does Callan live now?”
“Decatur I think. At least that’s what the PBR website said.”
She nods. “What’s that, like three and a half hours from Austin. . .right?”
I can’t help but laugh at her. “Let me guess. . .you’ve already looked at apartments in Austin.”
She grins, a little too eager. “Maybe.” And then a little bit of sadness hits her face. “I need to get out of here, Alanna. If I don’t. . .I’ll be just like my mother. I can’t stay here. I have to get away from Cody. He’s never going to leave and if I stay, I’m never leaving him.”
I know the feeling.
She’s right though. If we stay, this is our life and we know it.
Jessie and I passed out in my room last night and the next morning she leaves as the sun rises to make sure her mom made it to work.
When I’m finished feeding the cows and chickens, Kasey shows up like he promised and we head down to the arena.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this for you.” He says looking at the arena.
“Well, you should.”
The last person I should ask for help from was Kasey. But I did.
“So you won’t fuck me anymore but you need my help?” Kasey asks, staring at Hammer and then me. His gray eyes glare and I know there’s some resentment to him. He expected that I would always be there for him. When the only person I want to be there for, is me.
“You have a girlfriend, Kasey. What you’re doing is wrong and you owe me. You know that.”
He doesn’t answer me at all.
Drawing in a deep breath, I try to prepare myself for what I’m about to do. And what seemed like a good idea before, looks ridiculous when I see Hammer.
He rolls his eyes and gives me a nod to the chute. “Ready?”
“Can’t be much different than riding a horse, right?”
Kasey shakes his head. “Right. . .”
My plan to impress Callan, or at least grab his attention was to ride Hammer. No one aside from Callan has ever ridden him. Hammer is mean as hell too. That really should have been my first warning. But if Callan stayed on him, surely I could, right?
Forget the fact that he’s a professional bull rider. In my mind, I had myself completely convinced this morning that I could do this.
Now I’m not so sure.
Sitting in the chute, on Hammer, Kasey yells at me as he opens the gate before I’m ready. “Drop your riding hand and drive that shoulder! You want your weight on your inside leg.” He’s hanging over the fence shouting orders I can’t hear because my heart’s pounding so rapidly in my ears, that all I hear is rushing blood and the noises Hammer is making. He’s breathing fire and I feel fire, my body burning as it’s yanked and tossed around like a rag doll. I try my hardest to get a good grip on him but he’s spinning and bucking and I can’t. Bull riding is clearly a sport that is way harder than it appears.
“What the fuck does that mean, Kasey?!” I yell, frantic and so scared I realize right then it was the worst idea of my life to get on a bull. But I’m too committed now; I’m sitting on this beast and stopping this freight train isn’t even an option. Letting go was though. And one I’m contemplating doing when Kasey yells at me again.
“Put your weight on your inside leg when he spins!”
“Kasey!” I know I’m in trouble when Hammer spins and twists the other direction of the way my weight is shifted and I feel myself slipping from his heaving body.
“Throw your arm over your head! Don’t cross it over your body!” None of the crap he tells me to do works. None of it.
Before I know it, I’m airborne. . .I see the ground coming fast at my side and then I see Hammer spin again, his eyes locked on me and head down. It’s going to hurt.
My heart races, my stomach knotting wondering if this is the last few moments of my life. His natural instinct is to hook me with his horns. That website was right. This is the most dangerous eight seconds of your life.
I hear my heart beating in my ears, pounding like a drum, so loud it almost blocks out Hammer’s breathing. At first, I’m not sure if I’m okay, but I’m on the ground at least, all of the air in my lungs knocked out of me and I’m pretty sure I’ve dislocated something or broken something. If I could breathe I’d be able to assess the situation a bit more but now I’m staring at this tank on four legs about to plow right over me.
Definitely not the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had.
Just as Hammer’s about to charge toward me, I hear to my left, “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” As Callan runs toward me, his arms flailing as he tries to direct Hammer to him. Hammer goes and charges him but loses interest quickly and charges the other direction back out of the arena where Kasey opens the gate.
It’s enough time that Callan is able to run to me and scoop me up from the dirt in one fluid motion. He’s got me in his arms and on the other side of the fence when he sets me on a crate. Immediately my side hurts from hitting the ground and I look over at the house to see my dad looking out.
Before I can process anything, I hear, “Alanna, what was that noise?”
“Nothing!” I yell back, clutching my side in pain as my lungs expand.
Callan’s eyes widen as he looks at me and then Kasey, who followed us. There is tension in his stare, his voice, and the white knuckles. He turns, facing me, leaving Kasey glaring at him in disbelief. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I expected his reaction would be different, but I also thought I would have stayed on the bull.
“Just because you’re a pro, don’t mean shit to me.” Kasey doesn’t stand a chance against Callan and as he speaks, Kasey understands this.
I can tell Callan wants to beat the shit out of him for allowing this but I’m in pain and he knows that tending to me is important at this point. There’s a chance that at any minute my dad’s gonna walk out here and find me and then what? Callan’s the bull rider. He’s gonna think he did this and that’s the last thing he wants my dad to think. I’ll admit, I didn’t exactly plan any of this out. And then I’m a little mad at Kasey for not talking me out of it. It has me wanting to place blame on anyone but myself for thinking of this.
Despite not wanting to cause a scene, Callan stands from kneeling beside me and gets in Kasey’s face. This is their second interaction now and it’s not any friendlier.
Callan gives Kasey a shove. “Get lost, man.”
“You’re not her dad, man.” Kasey refuses to back down. “She can fuck whoever she wants.”
Callan raises an eyebrow at Kasey. “What was that?”
“I said—” Kasey tries to step forward, ready for a fight. When Callan grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him against his chest.
His knuckles white, eyes dark under his hat as he threatens him. “You could have killed her letting her get on that bull. You had no fuckin’ business allowing her to do that. Now you listen to me you little fucker.” Callan lets go of Kasey’s shirt and shoves him back
against the side of the barn and takes a step towards me. “I said get lost, and I meant it. Go home.”
Callan doesn’t wait for Kasey to say anymore and kneels beside me, his hands on my knees. “Come with me.”
I can tell by the way he’s watching me, his scowl a little meaner that he hates what I’ve done. His disappointed eyes tell me so. Mine don’t stay locked with his and instead, I stare at my dirt-caked feet wondering what just happened. It seems that anytime I’m around him things don’t go as planned.
When I don’t answer him, he grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, as painful as that motion is.
“Get up, Alanna.” He growls at me. I have a feeling he doesn’t get told no very often. By anyone. And when he does, he’s not pleased.
“Why should I? You hate me.” I’m trying to act like I don’t care. Only I do.
“I have some things to say to you and I’m not doing it while you’re sitting on a crate in the fucking dirt near a bull you just attempted to kill yourself on. Now get up.”
I look at his extended hand, and then his face, finally seeing what I’ve been looking for. It’s in the fragile bloodshot eyes and the set frown. He’s tortured by this. He wants to hate me but can’t. He’s drawn to me too. I feel my cheeks flush with anger, our stares locked.
Bringing myself to my feet, I start to walk toward the house not caring what my dad’s gonna say about this.
Callan grabs me, a warning, and a bitter cold creeps over my bones when he touches me. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“You’re so frustrating!”
When I look at him, I can’t tell if he’s telling or begging. The bad part is that I think I’m okay with either.
I let him take me over to the barn and when we get inside, he locks the barn doors.
Stomping around the barn, he grabs a bucket with water, a blanket and rag from the stable next to the spigot. “Sit down.” He motions to the hay bale he placed a blanket over.
“What the fuck were you thinking? You had no business being on Hammer,” he yells slamming the bucket down and sitting in front of me, “. . .and Kasey had no business letting you!”
I knew Callan had an aggressive side—I’d seen that before—but this was more than I imagined he would have shown over me getting hurt.
“I’m sorry.” I try to ease his anger a little. I understand why he’s mad but I was trying to impress him and it seems I can’t do that at all when it comes to Callan. Everything I do around him hangs me up even more. “I just wanted to impress you.”
Callan softens at my words and sees through me when I start to cry. It’s not that I want to cry. It’s the adrenaline wearing off as I shake and wonder what the hell I was thinking. In the distance, I hear Kasey’s truck speeding down the driveway, it catches Callan’s eyes for a moment, the anger flashing again.
He blinks it away and looks at me. “Take off your shirt.”
I do, gingerly, and lay back on the hay bale. I’m scared I’ve broken some ribs. “Do they look broken? I’m having a hard time breathing without shooting pain.”
Squinting his brow in concentration, Callan gently touches my ribs with his fingertips and I jump a little at the touch, my skin pebbling as he does it. It’s not the first time he’s touched me but judging by my reaction, you would think this were the case. “I don’t think so. Probably just bruised.”
“Have you broken your ribs before?”
It seems like such a dumb question to ask and I realize that once I say it.
His eyes are low and focused on what he’s doing, never meeting mine. “So many times I lost count after twenty.”
I’m trying to calm him and myself down by making conversation, and it’s working, I’m relaxing and he’s caring less about going after Kasey for allowing this.
“I once drew this bull, Red Dragon. He was a mean fucker. Kinda like my pops.” His eyes get distant but then he catches himself. “Every time I got on this bull he drew blood. Tore my ACL on him, broke my wrist, ribs, torn tendons, lacerated liver, even took a horn to the shoulder. . .” He shakes his head, his eyes on my ribs. “You name it and I broke it on him. It sort of became an obsession with me. I had to draw him. Wanted to just so I could have another chance at him.”
“And did you?” I smile that he finally told me something about himself that I didn’t have to pry out of him.
“Yeah, eventually I stayed on him at the World Finals. I was all bent because I didn’t draw Shooter, but it was finally my chance at Red Dragon. Anyways, he broke four of my ribs in the first round but I taped them up and acted like he didn’t get me. Got back on him the final night.”
“Are you saying I should get back on?” I’m joking, but Callan gives me this look that I’m totally lost as to what he’s talking about.
“Fuck no!” He laughs. “That wasn’t the point of the story.”
“Okay, what was then?”
“Staying on for eight seconds isn’t always the thrill.”
His words give my heart a tug, a hope that maybe he’s finally giving me a chance.
There’s comfort around me as we sit in the barn Wednesday night, slow drinking, clear liquor as the sun fades into a scattered bright pink sunset. It’s dancing over the field, a last sliver hanging on, giving every last piece of light it has to give until it’s swallowed by the flat, barren land. There is so much beauty in the sky above me it’s hard to look away from.
“When did he die?” Callan asks, handing me a beer and dipping the white rag in his hand in a bucket of warm water.
What? Who?
“What are you talking about?” I’m lying on a hay bale as I shoot him a look of complete confusion, my shirt off leaving me in my jean shorts and bra. The sight isn’t fazing Callan one bit, he’s only helping me out so my dad doesn’t know. At least that’s what I’m telling myself because he hasn’t looked once.
“Jackson.” He says, voice soft and eyes low. “Your boyfriend. When did he die?”
The moment he says “your boyfriend” the pain hits me so hard I feel like Hammer is in the barn right now spearing my soul, the very depths I tried so hard to hide, with his horns.
Oh God, there’s that pain. That overwhelming, consuming, horrendous pain I’ve kept hidden for so long. It’s like a blinding hot dagger to my heart hearing his name. No one ever mentions it anymore and hasn’t for years. They’ve forgotten or pretend to have forgotten, but I haven’t. I never can. Never will. It’s a reminder that nothing is forever and that some things are. Just like my mom says. “Nothing lasts forever but your memories.” I began to hate those memories and wished I could erase them. When I couldn’t, I never mentioned his name or ever acted as if I remember that time in my life.
“Four years ago. Labor day weekend.” I say, barely able to speak the words, my voice distant as I picture that stretch of road.
Callan nods, squinting into the sun filtering in through the stalls, as he presses the cool rag to my bare ribs wiping the mud away to reveal the blood that’s buried there and the bruises forming.
“He died in a car accident?” His voice is soft and I see that. He’s not pushing, he’s just asking.
My eyes burn as I look out to the corn field, beyond that, a dry, dusty land with nothing to offer me but pastures and hay fields. It’s one color, just like my mind. I don’t see that sun. I see the way it blinds me, never shining down on me. I wasn’t always this way. I used to be this spirited girl so full of life that I never stopped smiling. I had my entire life planned at ten. Everything. Where I was going to go to college, where I would live and the boy I would marry. Jackson Hasten Peterson. But all that changed when I saw him buried. Nothing made sense anymore. Life stopped. Suddenly I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted besides out of this town.
It’s taken me four years to even think about that day. I buried my heart right next to him that day, and I told myself to forget it. There will always be a missing piece of me
in that grave. A piece that should stay there forever, where it belongs. My innocence. My childhood.
“You don’t owe anything to Kasey, Alanna. You think you do, but you didn’t get in that car with him. You didn’t take that corner at a hundred. Jackson did.”
Callan’s way more perceptive than I’ve been giving him credit for. He was still around when Jackson died. At least I think he was, he had to be to remember those details.
“Did you know Jackson?”
Callan nods, ringing out the rag again and running it over my legs as he wipes away dirt to reveal more bruises forming. “I did. He was a good kid.”
God does it hurt to hear him say that. Jackson was a good kid. So much better than me and Kasey. I think that’s why Kasey is the way he is. He’s not even trying to be the younger brother living in the shadows of the great man Jackson would have been.
“How did you know him?”
Callan gives me a soft smile, leaning his elbows on his knees when he sets the rag back in the bucket. “Just knew of him. His dad knew Red.”
“Red’s your dad, right?” I know this, but I don’t want to lead on to how much I know about him.
“Yeah.”
His face is closer than before, but not as close as I want him to be. I want him to hold me right then. Wrap his strong arms around me and offer comfort I’ve never been able to find since Jackson. “How long did it take you to figure out Kasey was his brother?”
“Not long,” he smiles but I can’t see his eyes anymore. They’ve dropped to the floor and I know he’s about to say something that has meaning. He does that when he’s speaking from his heart. “Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction.” He speaks slowly, his voice soft but raspy and then he waits for my reaction.
The words settle over me like I’m trying to understand what he meant by that. I kinda know, but I’m not entirely sure.
“Who said that?”
“I’m not sure who originally said it.” Callan shrugs, running the back of his hand over his forehead as he stands and puts distance between us, “but my pops used to tell us that when we were kids.” He gives me a shrug. “It’s pretty good advice if you ask me.”
Remember Tonight Page 7