Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“What was his type?” Brady asks.
“Tall, thin, brunette. I’m not even one of those things.” I smile at the memory. “Which was fine, because I didn’t think about him that way either. Our relationship was platonic.”
Brady raises an eyebrow and then looks down at Daisy and back at me.
“Yeah, well, we were at a college party—his college because I didn’t go—and there was alcohol involved.”
“Ah.” He nods slowly. “I get it.”
“Young and drunk and stupid.” I blow out a breath. “And Nate, being the responsible, kind, good guy that he was, insisted that we get married. And this might sound really bad, but at the time, I thought, I could do far worse. I knew him, I liked him, we got along well, he had a stable family, and we’d never have to worry about money. I talked myself into it. I was selfish.”
“You were young,” he reminds me.
“And scared,” I agree. “And pregnant. But, we were excited for her, and we continued being friends. We even had sex sometimes, even though it wasn’t exactly…passionate, I guess is the word. But it was fine. Everything was just fine.”
“Until it wasn’t.”
“Yeah.” I blow out another breath. “He got sick. The truth is, I can’t imagine that we would have stayed married forever. Fine doesn’t cut it for the long term, but we always would have co-parented together, and he was my best friend. He protected us, and he loved us, and I was grateful. I am grateful. Because of him, I was able to start my business and buy this house, and Daisy will be able to go to college without worrying about how to pay for it. So, yes, I’m grateful to him, and I wish he was still here to be with her because he would have been a great dad.”
“I’m sorry he’s not.”
I nod, watching them rock. “Me, too. Now, tell me something about yourself that makes you tick because I’m pretty sure you didn’t watch your best friend die a horrible death.”
Brady brushes Daisy’s hair off of her forehead, kisses her there, and then clears his throat.
“Actually, I did.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. “Oh, shit, Brady.”
“I ride bulls for a living, and have for a long time. I think this will be my last season because I’m getting older, and it’s hard on the body. Anyway, Dirks Johnson was my best friend in the circuit. We’d compete against each other, and every year, our prize money was neck and neck. Some years he’d beat me, and some years I’d come out on top.”
I nod, listening, and wish I could be the one curled in his lap so I could wrap my arms around him and comfort him.
“About six years ago, we were in Colorado. His wife, Amy, and their daughter, Sierra, would come to every ride. They were in the stands that night.”
“Oh, no.” I cover my mouth, listening.
“I’d just finished riding and made it the whole eight seconds. I was on top, and if Dirks didn’t beat me, I’d win about a hundred thousand dollars that night.”
“Wow. Good money.”
“Yeah, and you risk your life for it,” he reminds me. “Anyway, I kept hoping he’d fall off. I wanted him to do well, but not too well. Because I’m a competitive bastard. Six seconds into his ride, everything went very wrong. He was bucked off and couldn’t get out of the way in time before the bull trampled his chest. Sent him into cardiac arrest and was dead before the eight seconds were up.”
“Jesus, Brady.” I do cross to him now and take Daisy out his arms, lay her on the couch, and then return to him, curl into him, and hold him tightly. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
His arms come around me, and he holds on, buries his face in my neck, and breathes deeply.
“He left a wife and daughter, and they watched him die.”
I press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s horrible.”
“I don’t let my family watch me,” he says softly. “They want to, but I won’t let them because if anything happened to me, I refuse to have them see it.”
At just the mere thought of something like that happening to Brady, my blood runs cold, and tears spring to my eyes.
“How often does that happen?”
“Not often,” he says and rubs his hand up and down my back. “But it could.”
“And that’s why you won’t let yourself get involved in a relationship.”
“Bull riders aren’t—”
“A good bet,” I finish for him.
“It’s what I do, Abbi. Riding that bull is the highest high in the world. It’s worth it to me, the sacrifices and the what-ifs. I’m pissed as hell that I’m starting to age out. And you’ve already been the one left behind with a baby to take care of by yourself. I won’t ever put you or anyone else through that. It’s selfish and irresponsible, and I won’t do it.”