Page 86 of Buckin' Around

I chance a spur down his shoulder, and he shoots to the left.

My ass leaves, my grip fails.

I glance at the clock.

7.18

The ground meets my shoulder, my body crumpling into a pile as I eat the powdery dirt that flings up through the cage of my helmet.

Montgomery’s shouts are the first thing I hear when the space around me registers.

Bull . . .

Jes—

Hooves thunder closer.

I scramble to my feet, my shoulder dropped on the right.

The arena rails meet me as my hands grab overhead. My feet find the rungs, and I ascend on autopilot, survival mode kicked in. I wobble at the top of the rail.

Logan has Jester back in the center of the arena and moving for the return gate a heartbeat later.

Fuck. That was too fucking close.

It hits me, clear as day, why Riley was so upset about me doing this every weekend. Ivy needs the only parent she has left.

It is only a matter of time before one of these bulls catches up with me and Ivy has no one left.

But without the PBR, we’re literally penniless.

Goddamn motherfucker.

Way to implode your entire life, Spencer.

Way to go, fucker.I bumble my way down and off the fence. Tugging at the helmet strap, I rip it from my head and stalk after Jester.

Christ above.

The cottage is dark when I roll into the small gravel driveway Sunday night. I kill the engine and push from the truck. Hauling my bags out of the back, I shove my way through the front door and dump the bags.

The lifeless, small, dark cottage’s refreshed scent, distinctly Riley, hits me.

As does the weight in my chest that my girls aren’t here.

I flick the kitchen light on and find my tiny little house all furnished, decor dotted around the place. The TV rests against the wall.

A note sits on the counter, next to a bowl of fruit and some kind of long narrow run of material.

I pluck up the note and flinch as pain stabs at my shoulder. Making a mental note to see the doc this week for it, I raise the slip of paper.

Hey Spence,

Ivy and I are out with Aunty Stacey for a couple of hours.

There’s lasagna in the fridge and a salad. Try to leave us some.

We’ll be back around eight. Girls’ night after submitting the last paper for the semester.