Page 44 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

“What if they get mad?”

“That’s their problem.”

Her mother’s eyes went bright.

Martina thought about that for a second. “Okay.”

“And you never have to be polite to somebody who makes you feel unsafe.”

That earned me a hug. I held her tight before sending her back toward the other girls. This time when I smiled, nobody had taught me how.

The clinic rolled straight into parade rehearsal, which meant I barely had time to grab a drink of water before somebody was calling my name again. Braxton stayed close through all of it without hovering. I always knew where he was—near the arena gate, talking to Torin, scanning the crowd—but he wasn’t standing between me and every person who came close.

Kyle Merritt backed toward me with his camera raised, paying more attention to his shot than where he was going.

Braxton stepped into his path. “Give her some room.”

Kyle immediately shifted back. “Sorry.”

I glanced at Braxton.

He gave me the slightest nod. No argument. No rescue. Just help when I needed it. I kept moving.

A few minutes later, Hades wandered over from wherever he spent his days creating trouble and dropped onto the grass beside the parade route.

Three junior contestants immediately abandoned formation to pet him.

Braxton stared at the enormous black wolf surrounded by rhinestones, curls, and pink boots.

“I still don’t understand why everyone acts like that’s normal.”

“Because he has excellent judgment.”

Hades looked straight at him.

Braxton pointed. “Don’t start.”

I laughed.

For the first time in days, it came easily.

By that afternoon, the clinic, rehearsal, and dozens of small crises had blurred together into something that almost felt normal again.

My final appearance was the grand entry.

I stood inside the queen trailer in my best boots, sash, and crown and checked myself in the mirror one last time. The crown sat slightly crooked. Just enough that Evie would have fixed it before I ever made it out the door.

I lifted my hand. Then lowered it again. It could stay crooked.

Outside, someone called my name from the arena gate. I stepped into the sun, mounted the dappled gray mare waiting for me, and rode into the arena with my head high.

The crowd cheered. I waved and smiled. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.

When I dismounted after my lap, Braxton was waiting near the gate. His gaze moved straight to my crown. “You left it crooked.”

“I know.”

“On purpose?”