The Bull Rider's Valentine

“Did your spirits eventually lift?”

He couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not. “What’s the old saying? A doctor who diagnoses himself has a fool for a patient?”

“I thought it was the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client.”

“Either way, I wasn’t so much taking chances as escaping my problems. Only by then I was on a fast downward spiral and unable to stop. Not that I tried very hard.” He pushed his cowboy hat back and rubbed his forehead. “I guess I needed the right incentive. Coming here, seeing what I’ve become though your eyes, comparing myself to Hugh—who started with less than me—I’ve had a rather rude awakening.”

“I don’t understand, Nate. You’re not at all the person I knew. You excelled at rodeoing. You were, and still should be, on top of the world.”

“That’s the last place I want to be. It’s cold and lonely up there. Hell, it’s cold and lonely at the bottom.”

“Is that how you felt when we were together?”

“Sometimes.”

She stiffened.

“You held back, Ronnie, only trusting me with part of your heart. Which was too damn bad. I thought we had a chance for a future.”

“We were young.”

“That’s not the reason.”

Her features abruptly fell, and she averted her glance.

He reached across the table for her hand. She let him hold it, though she didn’t return the gentle squeeze of his fingers. After a moment of silence, any hope he had that she’d open up and talk to him vanished.

“I’ll try to stay out of your hair as much as possible,” he said. “We’ll only cross paths during Sam’s lessons and competitions. When it comes to working together, I think we can both be civil.”