The Longest Ride

porch just as she was getting out of the car. Even from a distance, he seemed to know something was wrong, and despite the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in days, he walked toward her with arms opened wide.

Sophia went into them, and for a long time, he simply held her as she cried.
     

     
    “I still don’t know what to do,” she said, leaning back into Luke’s chest. “It’s not like I can stop her from going out with him.”

Luke was holding her close on the couch, both of them staring into the fire. He had let her ramble on for hours, agreeing with her from time to time but mostly soothing her with his silent, comforting presence.

“No,” he agreed. “You probably can’t.”

“But what am I supposed to do when we’re together? Pretend that it’s not happening?”

“That would probably be best. Since she’s your roommate.”

“She’s going to get hurt,” Sophia said for the hundredth time.

“Probably.”

“Everyone in the house is going to be talking about it. Every time they see me, they’re going to either whisper or snicker or act way too concerned, and I’m going to spend the rest of the semester dealing with it.”

“Probably.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Are you going to agree with everything I say?”

“Probably,” he answered, eliciting a laugh.

“I’m just glad you aren’t still mad at me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “And you were right to call me on it. You caught me on a bad day and I took it out on you. I was wrong to do that.”

“Everyone’s entitled to a bad day.”

He squeezed her tighter without saying anything. Only later did it occur to her that he never did tell her what had really been bothering him that day.
     

     
    After spending the night at the ranch, Sophia returned to the sorority house and took a deep breath before stepping into her room. She still wasn’t ready to talk to Marcia, but a quick survey told her that she need not have worried about it.

Marcia wasn’t in the room, nor had her bed been slept in.

She’d spent the night with Brian.

23

    Luke
    W hen Luke left for Pensacola a few days later, he did so with the uncomfortable knowledge that he hadn’t practiced enough. The relentless, throbbing headache made thinking difficult and practice impossible. He told himself that if he could just survive these preliminaries in decent standing, he’d have a chance to fully recuperate in time for the next event.

He knew nothing at all about Stir Crazy, the first bull he drew in Pensacola. He hadn’t slept well after the long drive, and his hands had begun to shake again. Though his headache was slightly diminished, he could still feel the thrumming between his ears, a vibration that felt like a living thing. He recognized only a handful of the riders, and half of the rest struck him as barely old enough to drive. All of them fiddled, trying to keep their nerves in check, all clinging to the same dream. Win or place, earn money and points – and whatever you do, don’t get hurt so bad that you can’t ride the following week.

As he’d done in McLeansville, Luke stayed near his truck, preferring to be alone. He could still hear the crowd from the parking lot, and when he heard the roar go up, followed a few seconds later by the announcer barking, “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” he knew the rider had been thrown. He was scheduled to ride fourteenth, and even though the rides were measured in seconds, there was usually a break of a few minutes between competitors. He figured he’d go over in fifteen minutes, if only to keep his nerves in check.

He didn’t want to be here.  

The thought came to him with unexpected clarity, even though deep down he’d known it all along. The undeniable conviction made him feel like the ground had just shifted under his feet. He wasn’t ready for this. And maybe, just maybe, he’d never be ready.

Fifteen minutes later, however, he began a slow trek to the arena.
     

     
    More than anything, it was the smell that enabled him to continue. It was familiar, triggering responses that had grown automatic over the years. The world compressed. He tuned out the sound of the crowd and the announcer, focusing his attention on the young handlers who were helping him get ready. Ropes were tightened. He worked the wrap until it felt exactly right in his hand. He centered himself on the bull. He waited for a split second, making sure everything was right, then nodded to