Page 199 of Knot my First Rodeo

Tripp is talking.

That isn't surprising to anyone.

Clint is checking equipment, and Briggs is leaning against a fence wearing the same expression he always wears whenever Tripp starts spiraling into one of his pre-competition speeches.

"I’m just saying, the judges have it out for me."

"They don't," Clint says without looking up.

"They absolutely do."

"They don't."

"I can feel it."

Briggs lets out a long suffering sigh.

"You say that every single weekend."

"Because corruption never sleeps."

I hand Tripp a water bottle and he accepts it, still talking.

"See? Autumn gets it."

"I don't get it."

His face falls, and the betrayal appears genuine.

I laugh and shake my head while Clint steals a kiss as he passes by, and Briggs reaches out long enough to hook a finger through one of my belt loops and pull me against his side for half a second, before letting me go again.

Little things. The kind of things I would've spent weeks overthinking when I first arrived. Now, they happen so naturally, I barely notice them anymore.

Love, I've learned, isn't always grand gestures. Sometimes it's a bottle of water handed over before someone asks. Sometimes it's a hand finding yours in a crowd. Sometimes it's knowing exactly where home is when the day is over.

By late afternoon, the championship events are wrapping up and the crowd is larger than ever. Competitors wait near the chutes for final placings to be announced. Hunter and Gidge are sitting with me in the front row.

Well, Hunter is sitting, Gidge is vibrating.

Yeah, that’s right. I convinced Hunter and Gidge to come to a rodeo.

"I swear, if Tripp wins this thing, I'm never listening to him speak again."

"You weren't listening before." I laugh.

Behind us, Gears is talking to Clint's dad. Acid is somehow terrifying a teenager without saying a single word, and Arrow is pretending not to laugh about it. The entire situation feels ridiculous.

I settle against the fence, watching competitors gather near the chutes while arena hands drag equipment out of the way.

The awards ceremony takes longer than it probably should, but nobody seems to mind. Checks get handed out, and belt buckles sparkle in the sunlight every time somebody lifts one overhead for a photograph. Proud families crowd around the edge of the arena with phones out while winners grin for pictures.

Somewhere along the way, I stop paying attention to everybody else and start watching my men.

It never gets old; maybe because even after all these months, I still have moments where I look at them and wonder how I got so lucky.

Clint looks relaxed for once, his hat tipped back slightly while he talks to another competitor. Tripp is grinning, and Briggs is standing there pretending he doesn't care about any of it, despite the belt buckle hanging from one hand.

The announcer starts dismissing people and competitors begin exiting the arena. Around us, the crowd shifts, and conversations pick back up as everybody starts preparing to leave.