“Just because you’re a pro, don’t mean shit to me.” Kasey doesn’t stand a chance against Callan. 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 paramount at this point. 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.
Despite not wanting to cause a scene, Callan’s 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 says, not backing down. “She can fuck whoever she wants.”
Callan turns raising an eyebrow at Kasey. “What was that?”
“I said—” Kasey tries to step forward, ready for a fight, Callan grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him against his chest.
His knuckles are white, eyes dark under his hat. “You could have killed her letting her get on that bull. You had no fucking 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. “I said get lost, and I meant it. Go home.”
Callan didn’t wait for Kasey to say anymore and reaches for me again.
“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.
“No.” I say, avoiding him.
“Get up, Alanna.”
“Why?” I’m trying to act like I don’t care. Only I do.
“Because 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 with a bull you just attempted to kill yourself on. Now get up.”
I look at his extended hand, and then his face, and there’s what I’ve been looking for. It’s in the fragile bloodshot eyes and the set frown. He’s tortured by this.
I get up from the crate and start to walk toward the house not caring what my dad’s gonna say about this.
He grabs me, there’s warning and a bitter cold creeping over my bones when he touches me. “Don’t walk away from me.”
It’s then that I can’t tell if he’s telling or begging. I’m okay with both.
I let him take me over to the barn and he locks the back door so no one can come inside. They won’t either, but it’s still needed.
Callan’s pissed as he stomps around the barn and grabs a bucket with water and rag from the stable next to the spigot.
“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’m sorry.” I say, trying 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.
Callan softens at my words and sees through me when I start to cry. It’s the adrenaline wearing off as I shake and wonder what the hell I was thinking. 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.”
Callan gently touches my ribs with his fingertips and I jump a little at the touch, my skin pebbling as he does it. “I don’t think so. Probably just bruised.”
“Have you broken your ribs before?”
“So many times I lost count after twenty.” His eyes are low and focuses on what he’s doing, never meeting mine.
I’m trying to calm him and myself down, 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. Every time I got on this bull he drew blood. It sort of became an obsession with me. I had to draw him. Wanted to just so I could have another chance at him.”