The barn smelled of hay and leather—familiar, comforting, and grounding—even as I tightened the straps on my saddle with a determination that bordered on defiance. The invitation to the National Rodeo Championship had arrived a week ago, but the weight of it felt like it had settled on my shoulders for much longer.

"Steady, Denim," I murmured, stroking his neck. Denim snorted in response, tossing his head as if to say, Let's get on with it. He was ready.

My father's words echoed in my ears, sharp and unwavering. "You're not going, Alex. That's final."

But I'd stopped listening to "final" a long time ago.

Dad thought I should stick to working on the ranch. To him, rodeo was a hobby, not a career. He wanted me to go to vet school, even going so far as to apply on my behalf. It wasn't that I couldn't do it—I was smart enough, capable enough. It just wasn't my dream.

I climbed into the saddle, then stood on Denim's back as he trotted into the corral. We raced around the makeshift arena, moving seamlessly through my routine. The level four tricks I'd incorporated now felt second nature, like they were part of me. As we reached the final stretch, I flipped from Denim's back and landed on my feet, striking a pose, my arms raised in anticipation of applause.

There was none, of course. This was just practice. But Ryan's voice rang out from the fence line, hooting and hollering like I'd just won the championship.

"Thanks!" I called, giving him a playful bow.

He leaned against the fence, watching me with a mixture of pride and concern. Ryan hadn't said much since I'd told him I was going to Vegas. He didn't need to. His face said it all—he was proud of me, but the thought of being apart weighed on him as much as it did on me.

"You're pushing too hard," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I led Denim toward the barn, brushing a hand along his flank to keep him calm. "Tricks I've got, but I haven't done barrels since I was twelve. I have to be ready for everything."

"You'll be ready," Ryan said, climbing over the fence to join me. "You already are."

"Then why does it feel like everything's working against me?" I asked, the frustration creeping into my voice.

"Because it is," he said with a small, reassuring smile. "But you've never let that stop you before."

I brushed down Denim, letting him cool off after the run. His coat glistened with sweat, but his eyes were bright, eager, as if he knew what lay ahead for us. I smiled and filled his trough with his favorite hay and alfalfa mix, giving him a grateful pat before stepping out of the stall.

The barn's warm light spilled over me as I stepped into Ryan's waiting arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Thank you for believing in me," I whispered, my voice soft but steady.

Ryan smiled down at me, his eyes filled with a warmth that made my chest ache. "You're easy to believe in," he said, his arms tightening around my waist. Then his lips met mine, and I melted into the kiss, deep and lingering, savoring the moment.

I'd miss this so much in the week I'd be gone. My heart squeezed at the thought. If I won, it wouldn't just be a week. It could mean months on the road, touring across the country.

Pulling back just enough to catch my breath, I rested my forehead against his. "I wish I could take you with me," I murmured. "But I know your job is here."

Ryan sighed, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "I'd go if I could," he admitted, his voice low. "But even if I can't be there, you know I'm always in your corner, right?"

I nodded, a quiet affirmation of everything he'd said. I believed him. And I wasn't about to let the time slip away without savoring every moment we had left together. I pulled him toward the storage room, where the cot still stood—a far cry from the romance of a moonlit night, but with Ryan beside me, it became something else entirely.

My hands fumbled to tug his shirt loose from his pants, pulling it quickly over his head, and then I followed suit, peeling off my own clothes. The urgency between us was undeniable, but in those fleeting seconds, I wished time would slow down, giving us more to hold on to.

But I knew we didn't have that luxury. The tension built in my chest, pushing me forward as I kicked my pants off and straddled his hips. A soft groan escaped me as I sank down onto him, feeling the rush of warmth and connection flood over me.

Ryan's fingers dug into my hips, his grip both grounding and possessive as I moved against him, matching the rhythm of the moment.

The pressure inside me built, every nerve buzzing on the edge of release. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the cries threatening to escape me, as the sensation grew overwhelming. Then, with a final burst, everything snapped. My muscles clenched around him, releasing in waves, each one deeper than the last.

A warm glow spread through me, flooding my senses as I held my breath, savoring the ache that lingered. It coaxed his own release, the deep connection between us intensifying, filling the space with a quiet, shared satisfaction.

I collapsed in a heap on his chest, my breath still coming in shallow gasps as I rested against him. His fingers threaded through my hair, the gentle motion calming me, helping our breathing slow and steady.

"I love you," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I hadn't said it before. I'd been scared to, afraid of saying it at the wrong time, worried it would sound cliché, like some romantic afterthought. But it felt right in this moment, in his arms.

Ryan's fingers stilled for a second before he smirked, his voice light yet warm. "I know." He chuckled softly. "What's not to love?"

The quiet between us lingered for a moment, the weight of my confession settling in the air. But time didn't stop for feelings, and the reality of what was ahead crept in. I could already hear the sounds of Denim's hooves tapping against the barn floor, the shift in the atmosphere around us as the world began to move again.

I pushed myself up from Ryan's chest, reluctant to break the peace but knowing there was work to be done. "We should get the horses ready," I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

Ryan's gaze softened as he watched me, then he gave me a small nod. "Yeah, we don't want to miss the road."

I stood and stretched, taking a deep breath, grounding myself in the moment. The truck needed loading, the horses needed to be prepped, and soon we'd be on the road—my last trip before the National Championship.

I grabbed Denim's halter and led him out of the stall, the rhythm of the barn taking over as we slipped into the routine. The saddles, the tack, the last-minute checks. My thoughts kept drifting to the ride ahead, but for now, I focused on the practical, the physical. Getting everything in place before I left it all behind.

Ryan was right there, helping with the final touches, his hands quick and efficient. But there was an undercurrent of tension, the unspoken knowledge that this would be different. This time, it wasn't just a rodeo; it was everything I'd been working for.

—-

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the ranch as the cool morning air wrapped around me like a reminder of everything I was about to leave behind. Denim stood in his stall, waiting, calm and patient, as I pulled on my gloves and headed toward the barn. It felt surreal—this was happening. This was the moment I'd been working toward, and yet, it felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind.

Ryan was at the truck, checking the hitch on the trailer, his movements sharp, efficient. He glanced up when he saw me approach, but his eyes softened when they met mine, a silent understanding between us.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

I paused for a moment, my fingers wrapped around Denim's halter. "I have to be," I said, even though the uncertainty was gnawing at me. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"I know," he replied quietly. "Just... be careful out there, alright?"

I gave him a small smile. "I will." But it wasn't just the road I was worried about. It was everything—the distance, the time apart, the unknown. But we didn't need to say all of that. The silence between us was filled with everything we couldn't express in words.

We finished loading the horses into the trailer in a quiet routine, the familiar motions of saddling up and securing everything for the road. I moved with purpose, but there was a weight on my chest, a heaviness that wouldn't leave.

Once Denim was settled, I grabbed my bags and stowed them in the truck. Ryan was still standing there, leaning against the side of the trailer, watching me. He didn't come closer, didn't make any move to hold me back. He just stood there, his eyes following every step.

I climbed into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life beneath me. I looked at Ryan one last time before pulling away, his silhouette growing smaller in the rearview mirror. The road stretched ahead of me, endless and unknown, but for the first time, I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders.

I'd hoped Dad would have seen me off, but I knew better than to expect it. His refusal to support me was as firm as ever, and I could almost feel the tension in the air, the space between us left wide open by his absence. He wasn't going to back me on this, not when he thought I was chasing a dream that didn't fit his vision. But I wasn't going to let that stop me.

I pressed my hand over my heart, the same place where Kayce's scar marked him, a constant reminder of the cost of living in this family. I hadn't been punished the way he had when he left, but the sting of disapproval still lingered. It always did.

I looked out at the ranch one last time, the place I had always known, and felt a pang in my chest. I would miss having my family in the stands, cheering me on. But I was doing this for me, and they had their own lives to live. The ranch needed tending, and that was something none of us could ever escape. But I had my own path now, and it would take me far from here, at least for a while.

—-

The thousand-mile journey had been long and grueling, but I kept telling myself it would be worth it. Each passing mile felt like it added a little more weight to my shoulders, and by the time I pulled into the equestrian center, the exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. I could feel the fatigue in my eyes, my muscles sore from hours of sitting in the truck, but there was still one thing I had to do before I could rest.

The horses.

I parked the truck and trailer, glancing at Denim and the others in the rearview mirror. They'd been cooped up for far too long, and I could see the impatience in their eyes. I was their caretaker, their rider, and I had to make sure they were settled before I even thought about closing my own eyes for the night.

I climbed out of the truck and made my way to the security guard booth. He gave me a nod as I approached, and I returned a half-smile, too tired to do more. "Over there," he gestured toward the far side of the lot where the other competitors were parking. "You can let 'em out there."

"Thanks," I murmured, already heading in that direction.

I parked the truck and unhitched the trailer, letting the cool evening air wash over me. Denim nickered from inside the trailer, eager to stretch his legs, and I couldn't blame him. The horses had been troopers through the long journey, but even they needed a break.

With each step toward the trailer, I could feel the tension in my chest ease. The horses would be alright for the night. Tomorrow, I'd tackle the championship, but for now, I could give them the attention they needed, and maybe, just maybe, find a moment to breathe.

I walked into the room, and Luxe didn't even begin to cover it. The bed was a plush oasis, and the pillows looked like clouds begging me to sink into them. The temptation to collapse onto the bed and forget everything was almost overwhelming, but something caught my eye before I could give in.

A gift basket sat on the bar, neatly arranged with an assortment of snacks, toiletries, and a bottle of something strong. The card was simple, written in familiar handwriting: "Good Luck, Bitsy. From: Jamie."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My brother. He never said much, especially not in front of our father, but this—this was his way of showing he cared. He'd never openly defy Dad, but I knew better than anyone that he wanted me to succeed, even if he couldn't say it aloud.

It was too late to call him, too late to thank him for the gesture, but that small act of kindness was enough to settle my nerves a bit. No matter how much distance there was between us, no matter how much our lives had changed, some things stayed the same. Jamie cared. Even if he couldn't show it the way I needed him to.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the card in my hand grounding me. Tomorrow was another step forward, and I was ready for it, despite everything else.

I changed into my pajamas, the soft fabric a welcome change after the long day of travel. The bed seemed to swallow me whole, the plush mattress a tempting escape. I sank into it with a deep sigh, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. Just as I was starting to relax, my phone buzzed in my hand, and I smiled when I saw his name on the screen.

"Hey, baby," Ryan's voice came through clearly, warm and familiar. "I wanted to catch you before you went to sleep and say good night."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, his voice washing over me like a gentle wave. It was a reminder of home, of what I was working toward. The championship was right in front of me, but in that moment, all I could think about was the man waiting back at the ranch. The distance between us seemed to close with each word he spoke, the sound of his voice grounding me.

"I miss you," I whispered, letting myself feel the ache in my chest.

"I miss you too, more than you know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But you're gonna do great. I believe in you."

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining him there beside me, offering comfort and strength in the way only Ryan could. I didn't need anything else to remind me of why I was here, but hearing his voice made everything feel just a little more manageable.

"I've got a surprise headed your way in the morning," Ryan's voice was laced with a playful smile, even over the phone.

"Surprise?" I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. "What is it?"

"That wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you," he teased.

I laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through me at his lighthearted tone. "I can't hardly wait," I yawned, the exhaustion finally catching up with me. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Alex. Get some sleep. If I don't talk to you again before the big day, just know I'm thinking about you."

His words settled over me like a comforting blanket, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting them sink in. Despite the nerves and everything ahead, I knew I wasn't alone.

Sleep came quickly, the weight of the day finally letting me rest. Morning arrived with the first rays of light filtering through the curtains. A sharp knock at the door pulled me awake, and I rubbed my eyes before swinging it open.

Standing there in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light, was a familiar cowboy.

Travis Wheatley.

He'd sold me my first barrel racing horse—or, more accurately, sold it to my father, and I'd gone on to buy every horse from him since. Travis was brash, no-nonsense, and always had a way of making his presence felt. Of course, he also ran the rodeo circuit, which meant he knew his way around the sport as well as anyone.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "So... are you my surprise?"

"I've surprised many women," Travis said, his gaze running over me as I stood there in my oversized sleep shirt. "But I was expecting something a little... different."

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "I wasn't expecting company this early," I shot back. "But I think there's coffee or something around here. I can make some if you're interested."

Travis smirked, clearly amused by my lack of concern for his early arrival. "Coffee sounds good."

I fumbled with the coffee maker, popping the K-cup into place before quickly heading to the bathroom to get dressed and brush my teeth. A splash of makeup, just enough to feel a little more awake, and I was back in the room.

Travis looked up as I entered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You might wow the judges more in that little T-shirt you had on last night," he teased.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. He handed me a card, the edges slightly frayed, with my number for the event and the order of events printed neatly. Barrel racing, roping, and finally trick riding.

"Can you actually eat before you spin your little horses in circles for the judges?" I teased, a smirk playing on my lips. "Or does it just make you sick?"

"Very funny," he grinned, unbothered. "Come on, let's get some food."

"I promise I won't stand too close to you," I said as we walked down the hall, rode the elevator, and headed into the lobby restaurant. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your next new ex-wife. Though," I added, eyeing him as we were seated, "they might think I'm your daughter."

"So how'd you get John to agree to let you come?" Travis asked after the waitress took our order.

"I didn't," I said, fumbling with the napkin in my lap. "Dad forbade me to come. Well… I didn't exactly listen."

"I always knew you were a rebel," he chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

I tried to focus on my food, but the nerves kept me from enjoying it. Not that I'd ordered much in the first place. Between the nerves and the long ride, I knew I shouldn't eat too much.

I reached for the check, but Travis grabbed it first. "I'll consider this an investment."

"An investment? If I knew you were paying, I would've ordered more than fruit and oatmeal," I teased, letting him be the gentleman. Even though I knew that wasn't exactly in his nature.

The arena was already booming when I arrived. The air vibrated with excitement, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my nerves. I couldn't be any more ready than I was. Years of riding and practicing had led me here. This was the big leagues.

I led my barrel horse, Belle, into the waiting area. Denim had grace; Belle had speed. I ran my hands down her chestnut flanks, checking the straps and making sure everything was perfect. I was riding 6th, midway down the list, but my heart pounded like it had nowhere else to go.

Climbing onto Belle, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. We shot through the gates with speed and precision, rounding the barrels close and fast. My heart still thumped loudly as they called my time—16.74 seconds. The fastest so far, but there were still fifteen girls behind me.

The quiet hum of the bar felt a world away from the roar of the arena. I took another sip from my bottle, the cool water a stark contrast to the heat of the competition. On the TV screen above, two girls had beaten my time. One knocked over a barrel, though, earning a penalty, and I barely squeezed into second place. My nerves had gotten the best of me on the roping course too.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. I wondered if the boys in the bunkhouse were watching me on their TV, cheering me on. Or if my father had caught my run. Would he even acknowledge it? Would he ever see me as more than just a girl who defied his wishes to chase a dream he didn't approve of?

The cool air of the arena felt electric as I approached the final round. Changing into my flashy pink form-fitting trick-riding costume, I couldn't help but feel the weight of all my preparation behind me. The costume wasn't just for show—it was a part of my armor. The glittery 'Y' painted on Denim's rear wasn't just for flair, though. It was my tribute to Yellowstone, a symbol of where I came from, and the very thing that pushed me to this moment.

Denim stood tall, his muscles rippling beneath the glittery design. I patted him gently, calming the both of us, my heart syncing with the rhythm of his breathing. I slid into the saddle and tightened my grip, ready for the performance of a lifetime.

Travis's nod was all I needed. He swung open the gate, and the world outside seemed to shrink as I rode into the arena. The booming crowd fell silent in my mind, replaced by the thumping beat of McBride and the Ride's "Trick Rider" playing through the speakers. It was my soundtrack.

I was in the zone now. I flipped, swung, and held my balance effortlessly, each trick smooth and precise. The routine felt like a blur of practiced perfection—each move instinctive and natural. I lost myself in the rhythm, the adrenaline coursing through me. The seconds felt like hours, but then, just as quickly, the four minutes were over, and I dismounted with a flourish.

The crowd erupted. The cheers rang in my ears, and the flood of emotion came crashing down like a wave. I had done it. I had outperformed everyone in level 4 tricks, and I'd won. After all the sweat, tears, and sacrifices I'd made, this was my moment. And it felt sweeter than anything I had ever imagined.