I glace at Marty, who looks as surprised as I am. Ginger’s never admitted to being serious with anyone.
JT stays on the bull and earns a score of eighty-four, advancing him to the next round.
A few riders we don’t recognize follow before Austin takes his turn. He barely makes it eight seconds and squeaks into the next round. Tucker enters the chute next.
“Tucker Ripley’s ridin’ again?” Marty asks. “I thought he was done?”
“I thought so, too.” But no, he has unresolved issues with Battle and had to return today to take the fun out of this trip.
Tucker scores a whopping ninety and breezes into round two. Scooter rides next and is tossed in less than four seconds. Cooper follows with an eighty-two.
The surge in crowd noise hurts my ears, and I know exactly who the cheers are for. Battle climbs the gate, finds me, and smiles, before mounting the bull.
“Bat—tle … Bat—tle … Bat—tle,” the crowd chants.
Battle runs effortlessly through his routine, securing his gloved hand tightly in the rope before signaling he’s ready. The gate flies open. The bull charges the arena, taking a sharp turn hand side, which Battle responds to immediately. I count the seconds. One … Two … Three … Four ... Five ... Six ... Seven ... Eight ... The horn sounds, and unlike Battle, he leaps off the bull, scurrying away without a challenge for more.
Once the animal is corralled, he rips his helmet off and raises it in the air. He spins slowly, absorbing praise from the crowd. On his way out, he climbs the gate and smiles at me, as the announcer reveals his score of ninety-one. He beat Tucker by one point. I have a sinking feeling that’s going to create a problem.
I walk with Marty and Ginger to the family waiting area. JT comes out first. He lifts Ginger in the air and plants a kiss on her lips while spinning her around. He says hello to me and Marty. Austin and Scooter follow with greetings. Scooter tries to kiss Ginger, too, and she giggles.
“Poor, Scoot. Always rejected,” JT teases. “Might help if you could stay up, and I ain’t just talkin’ bulls.”
“I don’t hear your mama complainin’.”
“Ah, man, you gonna bring my mama into this?”
They continue razzing each other, but my eyes are locked on Battle, who strolls out with Austin. He wraps his arms around my waist. “Whatdya think?”
“You were great.” I smile.
“Enjoy first place while it lasts,” Austin teases. “Cause tomorrow, I’m gonna be fillin’ that spot.”
“You have a better chance of havin’ breakfast with Jesus than beatin’ Battle,” JT digs, and Austin flips him off.
“Whatever, dickweed. I got a better chance than you.”
The moment the doors open, a fog filled with tension surrounds us. Cooper and Tucker approach the group. Cooper says hello to Ginger and Marty, and introduces them to Tucker. I don’t like the way Tucker looks at Marty or the length of time he holds her hand. What’s worse is the goofy smile on her face while she stares at him dreamy-eyed.
JT clamps Tucker on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Tuck. That was one hell of a ride.”
“Hell yeah it was,” Tucker gloats. “And I didn’t draw the sissy bull to do it.” He turns his eyes on Battle.
I try to catch Battle’s arm, but I’m not quick enough. He squares up to Tucker with a swollen chest. “You got somethin’ you want to say to me, Tuck?”
“Oh, I gotta lot I wanna say,” Tucker answers, glancing around to the families gathered nearby. “But here ain’t the place.”
“I’m not walkin’ away. Let’s settle this shit. I know I rode you hard that night, but I didn’t knock you off Shep, and I’m done takin’ the blame.”
Austin grabs my arm when I take a step toward them. “Let em’ work it out. Been a long time comin’.”
“I ain’t mad about Sheppards Row. That bull was a mean mutha fucker, and I was never gonna ride him. I did risk it all, but it wasn’t due to your lame trash talkin’.”
“Then what the fuck is your problem?” Battle asks.
“You’re still too big of a pussy to tell me to my face. After what you did, you came to my bedside like we were friends.” Tucker’s eyes leave Battle and lock on mine.
Battle follows his gaze. His chest collapses as he eases away from Tucker. His features soften, anger transforming to regret. “Stacy,” he says in a low voice.