Impossible

by Laurel Curtis

  He paused for a second longer, just long enough to make a few silent promises with his eyes about later, and then continued on his way through the throng of cowboys with his fingers laced with mine. Honestly, I had no idea whether Justman dropped it after that or continued to speak because I was so lost in the world of me and Coleman that everyone else kind of faded away.

  I knew it was a dangerous subject, since the confrontation was gone but not forgotten, but I just couldn’t help but ask, “So...Justman. What’s the deal there, Babycakes? I know that protective lion act didn’t just come from him calling me a ‘bunny’, so what’s the deal?”

  After heaving a heavy sigh that had to take a full ten seconds to complete, Coleman finally turned to face me and answered me honestly. “Justman has made a habit of publicly...um, hooking up with Katie throughout the years.”

  Okay, so, who the hell was Katie?

  “Katie?”

  He cleared his throat and then told me, his enthusiasm just above the level I imagine it would be if I kneed him in the balls repeatedly. “CJ’s mom.”

  Holy hell. Okay. Wow.

  Okay. One thing at a time.

  “Her name is freaking ‘Katie’?” I queried loudly.

  His face turned from serious to amused in an instant, no doubt trying to figure out how he missed discovering how crazy I was in all the time he had spent with me. “What? ‘Katie’ isn’t the name you were expecting?”

  My face scrunched, a slight variation of my signature scowl made by mixing it with contempt and mirth, and I answered with almost complete seriousness. “The name ‘Katie’ is just so sweet sounding. It just doesn’t fit.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up, completely defying gravity, as he prompted, “So what did you think it would be?”

  Shrugging my shoulders casually, I fought to keep my smile in check. “I don’t know...She-bitch Spawn of Satan?”

  Coleman’s smile instantly turned up to its full wattage, his big hands found their favorite resting place at my hips, and he murmured, “Somehow I think I would have been tipped off before I got her pregnant if that had been her name.”

  “Right.”

  Okay, next thing. “Alright. Now for a nowhere near as important question. What the hell is She-bitch Spawn of Satan doing hooking up with Justman? I thought she took off after CJ was born.”

  “Yeah, baby. She took off...from me and CJ. She never really left. She’s been floating along the fringe of my life for years now. And occasionally, hooking up with Justman. He’s the only one asshole enough to go there.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Okay. Justman is alright looking I guess, but why the hell would she want him when she could have the real freaking deal. You. And wait...didn’t you tell me you’d never heard from her again? Are we gonna run into her?!”

  “Ah, Christ. So, I’ve heard from her, but not in any kind of way that matters. And I don’t think I used the words ‘never heard from her’. Regardless, she can’t have me. She tried to hook up with me a few times, but finally got the picture that I wanted nothin’ to do with her. If she had come back beggin’ to put our family together, maybe. And I couldn’t really say for sure that I would have even taken her then, but maybe. But, no. She wants absolutely nothin’ to do with CJ. She just wanted a good fuck...And I guess there is the possibility that you’ll see her at some point.”

  God, that made my heart hurt, and I knew it had to be showing on my face. Not the part about seeing her, the part about her not wanting CJ. “How could she not want anything to do with CJ? He’s such a great freaking kid.”

  Coleman didn’t say anything, but the next thing I knew his lips were on mine and his hard body was plastered to the softness of mine.

  The kiss managed to be soft and hard at the same time, an astounding representation of our melded bodies, his lips demanding but only in a gentle coaxing sort of way. I really didn’t need too much convincing and opened my mouth in invitation nearly instantly.

  The way his tongue caressed mine was quite obviously attempting to tell me a story. It was short and concise, but it was meant to tell me how he felt about me. I kissed him back with the same fervor, the same feeling, but I prayed that he wouldn’t make his feelings vocal. It was too scary, and I just wasn’t ready.

  Too soon, though I’m pretty sure anywhere short of forever would have fallen into that category, Coleman pulled back and rested his forehead on mine, moving his hands from my hips to my jaw.

  Coleman could sense my disappointment at my new found loneliness, but he tried to reassure me. “Later, Banty baby, later. I can’t ride a bull with a fuckin’ hard on. That is if you ever want me to be able to use it again.”

  I definitely wanted him to be able to use it in the future.

  Definitely.

  The lights started to flash on and off in a sequence that I guess was preplanned out, and Coleman took it to actually mean something. Of course, this is the first time I had come to one of his events, so I didn’t know what was going on.

  “Shit. Okay Banty, just stay right here. You should be safe, and you should be able to see. I’ll come back when I finish my ride.”

  There was no time to answer as he smiled a huge smile, pulled me close, and laid a quick but thorough kiss on me just before running away, the sight of bright blue legs fading into the distance the only thing I could focus on.

  Taking the time to survey my surroundings now that my distraction was gone, I realized Coleman had put me in the perfect spot. I was behind the chutes, even behind the scenes if you will, but there was a perfect section of medal paneling that was easy to climb. It made for the perfect view, all by myself but high enough so that I would be able to see the action.

  Just as I was getting up high enough so that I could sit on the top rung, the lights faded and the announcer’s voice came over the speakers. Pyrotechnics shot off, and it was honest to goodness a crazy, elaborately put together show.

  “Please welcome...the best bull riders in the world! What do you say Atlanta? Let’s give them a big welcome!”

  There was a giant jumbotron screen and an elevated platform in the middle of the arena. There were two announcers, alternating back and forth in order to be able to introduce each person quickly enough, who ran through the cowboys names, asking for an individual welcome for each of them as they walked up and over the platform, their colorful chaps swinging back and forth as they moved.

  I listened closely as the announcer went through the names. “Please welcome, from Paris, Tennessee, Reese Turner!”

  As Reese came across the stage, I noted the cast on his arm that I had actually noticed when we first met. He was riding anyway. A lot of the guys were injured and were riding anyway.

  Jesus, they were crazy. I was tempted to ask, “So, um, did you notice that your arm is broken and you have stitches on your face? Normally people stop doing dangerous things when that’s the case. Or they at least take a hiatus.”

  I’m pretty sure their only response would be “Huh?”. Like somehow, to them, I would be the crazy one. When I mentioned it to Coleman he said, “Yeah, it’s his free arm. No big deal.”

  No big deal.

  Right.

  After just enough time for Reese to walk across the stage and take off his hat in a hello, they announcers moved on. “From Dallas, Texas, Kyle Lawler!...Please welcome, from Parsons, Kansas, Justman Williams!”

  On and on the names went, a roar of applause briefly following it each time.

  Kody Hunt, Chris Klauster, Murray Allen, Kaleb Height, and Chase Macon.

  There were actually several more than that, but those were the ones I caught because I had met them earlier. They were the guys that Coleman considered his closest friends on the circuit. Besides them, there were probably ten or fifteen more and even some international riders from Brazil and Australia.

  Finally, after practically holding my breath the whole time, the announcer continued his speech to the portion where I would get
to see my man.

  My man?

  Shitdizzle, that was a scary thought.

  “And now join me in welcoming our past world champions!”

  The crowd went absolutely wild, cheering and screaming and just buzzing with an overall excitement.

  Instead of walking across the center platform, these guys were posted in various spots around the arena, and the spotlight flashed and highlighted them when their name was called.

  “From Enid Oklahoma, Luke Jones!.....From Springfield, Missouri, Hank Parks!......And the current reining world champion, from Huntsford, Kansas, Colemaaann Cade!”

  They were all wearing relatively similar clothing and gear, colorful chaps, cowboy hats, and their protective leather vests. They were all attractive in the same rugged, tough guy, very manly way. But none of them had anything on Coleman. None of them stood or moved with the ease that he did, and none of them had anywhere close to the same uniquely attractive face.

  Ironically, in this sport, it wouldn’t take much time for Coleman’s face to be permanently ruined, which was a scary thought. Especially since he refused to wear a helmet.

  I knew, though. I knew that even if his face was horribly messed up, he would still be beautiful. He just had that essence. He drew people to him like a magnet, and once you got there, the guy on the inside was just as pretty, just as tasty as the shiny candy coating.

  God, listen to me. Thinking and acting like a smitten kitten.

  Shitdizzle.

  Next, the announcers moved on to introducing the bull fighters, who were possibly even crazier than the riders. When the ride was over, they ran toward the bull. If a rider needed saving, they were going to be the ones to save him. Sometimes they would even sacrifice themselves, throwing their body between rider and bull.

  It was some crazy heroic stuff, and Coleman couldn’t tell me enough how much respect he had for these guys. I was definitely of the same mind.

  The cowboys were all lined up shoulder to shoulder along the side of the arena, where they went after having been announced, and I watched as they all removed their hats and bowed their heads to partake in the prayer that would mark the beginning of the competition.

  As I bowed my head too, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest with nerves. My palms were sweaty, and my hand did its normal drifting.

  I was nervous for the obvious reason, the reason I was always nervous at something like this, my ever present fear for Coleman’s safety.

  But in addition to that, I was nervous for another reason. This, Coleman’s being a professional bull rider, was a big freaking deal. I really had no idea prior to being here and experiencing it. Most of these guys had to get recognized in public from time to time, but Coleman was on another level. As the current reining champion, and someone who had won four times prior to that, he was a big name in the sport. That combined with his natural charisma and flat-out gorgeous looks made for quite the potent celebrity.

  I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as I thought back to the first day I met CJ. No wonder he looked at me like I had a second head when I gave no indication of even a flicker of recognition to his name. Most people probably have at least an idea of who he is on sight. At the time I thought it was a joke, him thinking that he was something special, something more than every other regular kid.

  Now I just thought it was true.

  And it had more to do with who he was than the celebrity of his father.

  My thoughts had overwhelmed me, and my own prayers had taken precedence over the one being broadcast over the loudspeaker. Before I knew it, there was a chorus of murmured amens reverberating in my ears, and the singer of the national anthem was being introduced.

  As the little redheaded woman stepped into the spotlight, I took the time to take in all of the sights and sounds around me. Music started to play, and she started to sing, her voice actually impressive in a way that they so rarely were. Hats were held against chests, hands were resting comfortably against hearts, and I could see the slight movement of lips all around me as people sang along to the song that paid tribute to our country.

  You couldn’t find a more patriotic group of people, their love of country nearly a palpable thing in the air, than the crowd of this nearly full Atlanta arena.

  Most of the arena was still dark, the cowboys and spectators alike cloaked in darkness, but my eyes had adjusted just enough to be able to make out the details. The only thing I couldn’t see was Coleman.

  I knew he was out there, but I found myself desperately wishing I could see him. Desperately wishing I could watch him closely for every minute of this.

  I wanted to know what the experience was like for him, directly. At present, I was experiencing it from my point of view, with only my imagination and an array of assumptions to fill in what it must be like for him.

  I wanted to see his eyes as he listened to the National Anthem knowing what was coming in just a few short minutes, knowing that all of these people had come here to watch him put on a show. Knowing that I was here to watch him and worry about whether or not he would come out of it unscathed.

  Interestingly enough, whatever he was feeling, I just wanted to live it with him.

  The lights of the arena started to brighten as the singer’s voice hung on the word brave, and the crowd started to roar with approval. Subconsciously, I joined in, becoming one of the many spectators hooting and hollering with amazement.

  My eyes scanned the arena quickly, looking for the bright aqua blue of Coleman’s chaps, knowing that would be the most efficient way to find him in a sea of similar-looking cowboys.

  When I finally picked him out of the crowd, his eyes were on me, and it was clear he had been watching me for awhile. His face was engulfed in a cocky smile, and I felt the beginnings of irritation start to fray around my edges. He hadn’t earned the right to be cocky; he freaking put me here. Of course he knew where to look for me.

  Just as I started to let myself get worked up, the sass building steadily in my veins, he threw me a wink.

  I deflated.

  Just like that, irritation gone. He did everything well, and by God, his winks were no exception. He winked with the skill and flirtiness of fifty men combined, leaving nothing but a pile of womanly goo behind.

  Following the line of thirty or so riders in front of him, he made his way through the gate in the middle of the chutes and out of the arena. I kept my eyes on him and watched as he talked with a group of them that included Kyle, Chase, and Murray. From the smiles on their faces, it was clear that they were relaxed and joking and ready for just about anything.

  Kody came walking up with some gear in his arms, what looked to be a helmet with a face mask, a bull rope, and a glove for his riding hand. He quickly tied the rope onto the metal fencing and ran his gloved hand roughly down the rope a few times.

  I knew from watching and talking to CJ that he was both putting rosin on his rope and heating it, a couple of helpful tricks used by bull riders all around.

  Taking my time and looking around the rest of the arena, I killed enough time so that when I moved my gaze back to their group, Kody was already climbing into a chute working to fasten his rope around his bull, and in turn, fasten himself to that very rope.

  Still perched up high, I had a good view, and it was all I could do to calm my nerves as I watched Coleman climbing up the side of the chute to have a few words with Kody as he prepared to ride.

  Somehow, I knew he was helping Kody, feeding him wisdom acquired from all of his bouts of success. It was probably a hard thing to do, giving a rough, bull riding cowboy advice without coming off as a condescending jerk, but I had no doubts that Coleman knew how to wade through the murkiness.

  He gave Kody a quick clasp on his shoulder and then jumped down and moved away, headed for his own bull rope.

  He didn’t look at me as he went through his routine, and I totally understood. I was probably just as much of a distraction to him now as he was to me when I was
chasing.

  And as luck would have it, we both had professions where were could end up dead if we weren’t on top of our game.

  Obviously, this being the case, I was more than happy for him to ignore me.

  My eyes jumped back to Kody at the sound of the chute opening, and I watched avidly as his black and white bull jumped, bucked, and twisted his way out of the gate and into the arena. The crowd was cheering and the announcer had been talking practically the whole time, but it had become background noise to me since I was concentrating on other things.

  Far too quickly, I watched Kody come flying off of his bull, his body flipping and twisting in the air just before landing dangerously on his upper back and neck.

  To me, it looked like a devastating fall, but their bodies were obviously more conditioned to that kind of bending than mine because he was up, on his feet, and running for safety before I even had a chance to blink.

  The bull fighters successfully diverted the bull’s attention, funneling it through the gate in the center of the arena and getting back into position to be ready for the next crazy bull and rider combo.

  Still new to all of this stuff, I didn’t really know how it worked, but Coleman had explained that they’d already done their qualifying rides the day before. It was a two day event where their scores got added together and there was something about getting awarded bonus points if you were in first place after the first round. Or something like that.

  I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal if I didn’t have all the rules down pat. I wasn’t looking to be a bull riding expert, I was looking to know Coleman.

  So I listened, I just didn’t sweat the details.

  Looking back at the spot where I had last seen Coleman, I saw that he was gone, so my eyes quickly did a scan looking for him. It didn’t take long to find him, headed for the chutes, getting ready to climb on a bull of his own.

  My heart jumped into my throat and one hand drifted up to it, like somehow I could prevent its escape. My other hand worked its way to my abdomen, doing nothing more than just resting there, but proving quite blatantly how nervous I was about Coleman’s ride.