Николас Спаркс - The Longest Ride

“He’s getting ready…”

By then, Luke had grown strangely still, but the pause lasted only an instant. She watched the gate swing open and heard the roar of the crowd.

The bull came out hard, bucking, his rear legs pistoning into the air, his head pitched low to the ground. He half spun toward the left, kicking hard again, then literally jumped, all four legs coming off the ground, before suddenly beginning to spin in the opposite direction.

By then, four seconds had gone by and Sophia heard the crowd go berserk.

“He’s doing it!” one of the announcers shouted.

It was at that instant that Sophia saw Luke jerk forward, his body off balance, just as the bull’s head exploded backward.

The impact was horrific; Luke’s head rocketed in the opposite direction, as if devoid of any muscle at all…

“Oh, my!”

Luke’s body went suddenly limp as he toppled off the bull, his hand still tethered to the wrap.

But the bull appeared psychotic with rage, an animal out of control, and the bucking continued, fierce and unrelenting. Luke bobbed up and down like a rag doll, whipped in every direction. When the bull began to spin again, Luke followed in sickening motion, his feet skimming the ground like a whirligig.

By then the bullfighters and others had jumped into the ring, trying desperately to free Luke’s grip, but the bull just wouldn’t stop. He stopped spinning and charged at the new intruders, swinging his horns wildly, tossing one of the bullfighters aside as if he were weightless. Another tried and failed to free Luke’s wrist from the wrap; another few seconds passed before a bullfighter was able to jump up and hold on long enough – while running with the bull – to free Luke’s hand.

As soon as it happened, Luke toppled to the dirt and lay on his stomach, his head to the side, unmoving, while the bullfighter scurried away.

“He’s hurt! They gotta get folks in here now!”

And still the bull wouldn’t stop. Instead, as if realizing he was free of his rider but angry that Luke had even attempted to sit astride him in the first place, the bull turned around, oblivious to the others who were trying to distract him. Lowering his head, he charged Luke, gouging his horns at Luke’s prone figure with murderous intent. Two bullfighters jumped in, slapping and hitting, but the bull would not be denied. Instead, he kept swinging his massive horns at Luke’s inert figure, then suddenly lunged forward atop Luke’s body, where he began to buck again.

No, not buck. Trample. And spin. In speechless terror, Sophia heard the announcer shout:

“Get that bull off him!”

Up and down, the enraged bull brought his hooves down with furious impact, crushing Luke beneath him. Smashing down on his back, his legs, his head.

His head…

Five people circled the bull by then, doing everything they could to stop the rampage, but Big Ugly Critter continued his single-minded attack.

Up and down, crushing Luke over and over…

The announcer saying:

“They gotta stop this!”

The bull seemingly possessed…

Until finally – finally! – he moved off of Luke and skittered sideways onto the dirt floor of the arena, still bucking wildly.

The camera followed the bull as he continued to buck away and then zeroed in on Luke’s prone figure, his face bloody and unrecognizable, as others began to attend to him.

But by then, Sophia had covered her face, sobbing in horror and shock.

25

Luke

By Wednesday, Luke’s headache had abated slightly, but he feared he wouldn’t be well enough to compete in Macon, Georgia, over the coming weekend. After that, the next event was in Florence, South Carolina, and he wondered whether he’d be in better condition by then. From there, the tour moved to Texas, and the last thing he wanted was to head into that stretch of the season with a serious physical handicap.

Beyond that, he was beginning to worry about the expenses. Starting in February, the events required that he fly. It meant extra nights at the motels. Extra meals. Rental cars. In the past, when pursuing his dream, he’d viewed it as the cost of doing business. It still was, but now, with the loan repayment set to triple in six months, he’d found himself scouring the Web for the cheapest flights he could find, most of which had to be booked weeks in advance. As best as he could estimate, his winnings from the first event would cover the cost of travel to the next eight events. Which meant, of course, that not a dime would go toward meeting the upcoming loan payments. It wasn’t about winning to chase a dream anymore. It was about winning regularly because he had to.

Even as the thought entered his mind, however, he could hear Sophia’s words, contradicting him. That it wasn’t about the ranch, or even about his mom. That it was all about the guilt he wanted to avoid.

Was he being selfish? Until she’d said it, he’d never even considered the idea. It wasn’t about him. He’d be fine. It was about his mom, her heritage, her survival at an age at which her options were few. He didn’t want to ride. He was doing it because his mom had risked everything to save him, and he owed her. He couldn’t watch her lose everything because of him.

Otherwise he’d feel guilty. Which made it all about him. Or did it?

He’d called Sophia three times on Sunday night, another three times on Monday. Twice on Tuesday. He’d texted, too, once each day, without receiving a response. He remembered how upset she’d been by Brian’s stalking, which kept him from texting or calling on Wednesday. But by Thursday, he could take the silence no longer. He climbed into his truck and drove to Wake Forest, pulling to a stop in front of the sorority house.

Two identically dressed girls were sitting in the porch rockers, one of them talking on the phone, the other texting. Both glanced up briefly, then did a double take when they saw who was walking toward them. As he knocked, he could hear laughter drifting from inside. A moment later, the door was opened by a pretty brunette with two piercings in each ear.

“I’ll tell Sophia you’re here,” was all she said, moving aside to let him in.

Off to the side, three girls sat on the couch, craning their necks to get a glimpse of him. He guessed they were the same girls he’d heard from outside the door, but now they simply gawked at him, the television blaring in the background as he stood in the foyer, feeling out of place.

It was a couple of minutes before Sophia appeared at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed. She stared down at him, clearly debating what to do. Then, sighing, she approached reluctantly. Noticing everyone’s attention, she said nothing to him; instead, she nodded toward the door. Luke followed her out.

She didn’t stop at the porch but walked down the sidewalk out of sight of those in the house before turning to face him.

“What do you want?” she asked, her expression blank.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Luke said, hands in his pockets. “For not telling you sooner.”

“Okay,” she said.

She added nothing, leaving him unsure what to say next. In the silence that followed, she turned away, studying the house across the street.

“I watched the video of your ride,” she said. “On Big Ugly Critter.”

He kicked at a few pebbles lodged in a crack in the sidewalk, afraid to face her. “Like I said, it was pretty bad.”

She shook her head. “It was more than just pretty bad …” She turned to look at him, searching his face for answers. “I knew it was dangerous, but I never thought that it was a matter of life and death. I guess I didn’t really understand how much you risk every time you step into the ring. And that bull and watching what he did to you. It was trying to kill you…”