The Longest Ride(97)

“Not with my sister there. That would be too weird.”



“If I’d known you wouldn’t stay over, I might not have driven all the way up here.”



“I don’t believe you.”



He laughed before becoming serious again. “I missed you.”



“No, you didn’t. You were too busy to miss me. Every time I called, you were always on the go. Between work and practice, you probably didn’t even think about me.”



“I missed you,” he said again.



“I know. And I missed you, too.” She reached up, touching his face. “But sadly, we’re going to have to get dressed anyway. You’re supposed to come over for brunch tomorrow, remember?”





Back in North Carolina, Luke made the decision to redouble his practice efforts. The first event of the season was less than two weeks away. The two days in New Jersey had given his body a chance to rest, and he felt good for the first time in weeks. The only problem was that it was as cold here as it had been in New Jersey, and he dreaded the chill of the barn even as he set out in its direction.



He had just turned on the barn lights and was stretching before his first ride of the night when he heard the door swing open. He turned around just as his mom emerged from the shadows.



“Hey, Mom,” he said, surprised.



“Hi,” she said. Like him, she wore a heavy jacket. “I went over to your house and when I realized you weren’t there, I figured this is where you might be.”



He said nothing. In the silence, his mom stepped into the foam-padded ring, sinking with every step until she stood on the opposite side of the bull from him. Unexpectedly, she reached out and ran her hand over it.



“I remember when your dad first brought this home,” she said. “It was all the rage for a while, you know. People wanted to ride these things because of that old movie with John Travolta, and practically every country bar put one in, only to watch the interest die out within a year or two. When one of those bars was being torn down, your dad asked if he could buy the bull. It didn’t cost much, but it was still more than we could afford at the time and I remember being furious with him. He’d been off in Iowa or Kansas or somewhere, and he drove all the way back here to drop it off before turning right around and heading to Texas for another set of rodeos. It wasn’t until he got back that he realized it didn’t work. He had to rebuild the thing pretty much from scratch, and it took him almost a year to get it working the way he wanted. But by then, you came along and he’d pretty much retired. It sat in the barn here collecting dust until he eventually put you on it… I think you were two years old at the time. I got pretty mad about that, too, even though it was barely moving. I somehow knew that you’d end up following in his footsteps. The thing is, I never wanted you to ride in the first place. I always thought it was a crazy way to try to make a living.” In her voice, he heard an uncharacteristic trace of bitterness.



“Why didn’t you say anything?”



“What was there to say? You were as obsessed as your dad. You broke your arm when you were five riding on a calf. But you didn’t care. You were just mad because you couldn’t ride for a few months. What could I do?” She didn’t expect an answer, and she sighed. “For a long time, I hoped you’d grow out of it. I was probably the only mother in the world who prayed that her teenager would get interested in cars or girls or music, but you never did.”



“I liked those things, too.”



“Maybe. But riding was your life. It was all you ever really wanted to do. It was all you really dreamed about, and…” She closed her eyes, an extended blink. “You had the makings of a star. As much as I hated it, I knew you had the ability and the desire and the motivation to be the best in the world. And I was proud of you. But even then, it broke my heart. Not because I didn’t think you’d make it, but because I knew you’d risk everything to reach your dream. And I watched you get hurt over and over and try again and again.” She shifted her stance. “What you have to remember is that to me, you’ll always be my child, the one I held in my arms right after you were born.”



Luke stayed silent, overcome by a familiar shame.



“Tell me,” his mother said, searching his face. “Is it something you feel like you couldn’t live without? Do you still burn with the desire to be the best?”



He stared at his boots before reluctantly lifting his head.



“No,” he admitted.



“I didn’t think so,” she said.