Yes, he’s the guy I hated for years. He’s the guy who had me staying up all night tossing and turning and thinking the way no other man ever did. He’s the guy who annoyed the hell out of me when he shot me that smarmy smile across the field at high school practices and then challenged me to go one-on-one.

But Jordan is right. He’s also the guy who always understood how much lacrosse meant to me and made me a new field when the old one got torn up out of the ground. He’s also the guy who gushed about my yearly rodeo appearances to anyone who’d listen at dinner. And he’s the guy who made sure his tie matched my pantsuit stitch for stitch. No one else has ever put my photo up in his locker, or walked me to class despite not actually having any classes, or honestly, just sat and listened.

He has, in his own Colt way, been sealing the cracks he left behind. No blame, no excuses. Just actions.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rodeo

May

Colt looks absolutely atrocious. In his big cowboy hat and sunglasses, I don’t think anyone is going to be fooled by the attempt at a disguise.

My mom pulls out a pair of Pit Viper wraparound shades and holds them out in front of Colt. ‘Give these a shot. They’ll work even better. They’re ridiculous.’

‘What? Those aren’t ridiculous! They’re mine,’ Papa whines defensively. Mumma just sighs and taps his shoulder in a gesture of ‘shoo’. It’s clear where I get it from.

‘She’s right.’ Savannah plucks the other (more normal) pair right from Colt’s face and slides on the Pit Vipers. Colt just gives her a pissed little frown. ‘There ya go. Now hurry up. We need to find Ma and Pop.’

‘Whoa.’ Colt holds up a hand. ‘The whole thing is that I don’t get recognized here, right? So why don’t we split up, and I’ll—’

‘CJ BRADLEY!’ a woman’s voice yelps. ‘Oh, my god!’

He drops his hand immediately, straight-faced. ‘Well. We tried.’

The woman, a middle-aged brunette with an OKC orange T-shirt, waves to her friends, pointing Colt’s way. It’s definitely so over for him.

‘And with that,’ I laugh, ‘I’m gonna head out and get ready. Barrel race is in a half-hour. Find a good spot.’

‘I’m sure the Bradleys have beaten us to it.’ Mumma smiles, and she and Papa give me a shared hug.

‘Go get ’em, mija.’ Papa straightens my collar, ruffling my hair, unfortunately ruining the braids I’d just done about an hour ago.

‘Paaaa,’ I groan.

‘What? It’s for luck.’ My dad presses a kiss to the top of my head. ‘Be safe.’

‘I will, Papa.’