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"That was a stellar performance, Ryder. I noticed you heeded my guidance on maintaining posture. Could you sense the improvement?"

"Definitely, dad. It felt more instinctive, and my balance was spot on. How did my free arm look?"

"There were moments your arm nearly grazed the bull's neck; remember to stay vigilant about that. Aside from that, you were exceptional. My heart swells with pride for you." Tyler wrapped his son in an embrace before resting an arm around his shoulders. "Catch that, Jim? Ryder's on his way to becoming a legend."

"Indeed, a spectacular performance, Ryder. Seems like you're destined to step into your father's legacy. Planning to bag three world championships as well?"

"That's the dream," Ryder beamed at his father.

"He's all of 18 now. Ready to take on the seasoned pros," his father chimed in.

"That's the spirit," Jim acknowledged. "Witnessing both Hayes competing will be a spectacle for the ages."

That same evening fate cast its dice, and Tyler was pitted against Hannibal's Fury, a notorious bull whose wrath had claimed lives and left scars in its wake. The news sent a shiver down Ryder's spine.

"Father, I implore you - do not face Fury. There is an ill omen around him," Ryder begged with urgency.

"Ryder, fear not. I might not clinch eight seconds but losing is part of the game."

"Dad, this is different - please don't face Fury."

With a reassuring squeeze on Ryder's shoulder, Tyler said, "Have faith, son. I'll emerge unscathed."

Approaching the chute where Hannibal's Fury was constrained - all 1900 pounds of rippling Brahma muscle - Tyler prepped himself for what could well be the ride of a lifetime; only one rider had conquered Fury in four years.

It was soon time for Tyler's confrontation with the beast as Ryder stood by to assist with his bull rope. Their family - Celeste and young Terry - positioned themselves at their usual spot by the chutes.

As he adjusted his grip and settled his hat firmly, Tyler signaled ready.

Fury burst into the sky with brute force as he exited the chute; Tyler clung fiercely amidst roaring crowds reaching for that eight-second triumph. But fate twisted cruelly at six seconds when he was flung off and crashed into the dirt. Shaken but conscious, he stood only to be blindsided by Fury's charge; one deadly thrust of horn to fabric and flesh Killed Tyler in an instant.

From his vantage by the chute, Ryder watched frozen in terror as tragedy unfolded within heartbeats - "No!" He hurdled over into the ring as they secured Fury away.

"Dad!" His voice broke through dust clouds as he skidded to where his father lay motionless – "Dad!" – grief poured forth unbidden for all to witness.

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With determined grips, Jim alongside another of Tyler's friends, seized Ryder's arms. They hauled him out of the arena, his protests echoing in a cacophony of kicks and screams, while Celeste and Terry could only gaze on, paralyzed with disbelief, from their perch in the stands.

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"It's good to have you back, Ryder," Dr. Marie Brown greeted warmly as Ryder settled onto the couch facing her. "Tell me, how have things been since we last spoke?"

With a casual lean, Ryder perched his foot upon his knee and replied with a simple, "I've been managing."

Dr. Brown scanned her previous session notes then looked up. "We delved into the tragedy of your father's passing last time. What did you do to get through that period?"

After a brief pause, Ryder began, "In the aftermath, I shut myself off from the world. I buried myself in work at the ranch, obsessively tackling all the projects my dad left unfinished."

"And after completing them?" probed Dr. Brown gently.

Ryder paused at the memory, his words a touch unsteady. "Took me a whole year before I went back to the rodeo circuit and threw myself into competition." He cleared his throat before continuing, emotion lacing his voice. "I... I racked up countless wins and constantly found myself measured against my dad's legacy."

"What was it like for you, winning and being compared to him?"

"The comparison didn't bother me; he was my hero, and everyone respected him so much on the circuit."

"Did you seek that same respect? To feel a connection with your father?"

"I thought winning would bridge the gap. But victory only seemed to distance me from his memory."

"And then what happened?"

Ryder took a moment, feeling warmth flush his cheeks. "Well... I sought solace in fleeting encounters with women. I'd become numb to life's flavor but with them... for once I could feel something."

"Did it ease your numbness?"

"Not at all," Ryder confessed.

"Yet you kept indulging in these temporary escapes?"

"Those moments allowed me to forget my grief; any distraction from thinking about Dad felt worth it – be it sex, booze or riding bulls."

"Was this behavior typical for you?"

"No... Only after I lost my dad."

"How did this activity restore a sense of normality for you?" Ryder's response was stuck in his throat, anxiety bubbling as he fidgeted in his seat. "Could it be that you were chasing a different high? Trying to fill the void left by your father's presence with something else, like intimacy or alcohol?"

"Perhaps, yes. That's a possibility."

"Now, though, something's shifted. You've lived by your own rules for years; what's driving the change? Why seek help now?"

"A bad injury seven months ago left me homebound, drowning in solitude. Those quiet hours sparked introspection about the path I'd taken." Ryder sipped water before admitting with unease, "I couldn't face the man I'd become or bear my dad's imagined disdain. He'd be heartbroken if he saw me now." A short pause punctuated his insight, "There's also someone new in my life that I want to understand on a deeper level."

Dr. Brown diligently took notes as Ryder unfolded his story. "Is she privy to your history?"

"Mostly," Ryder shifted uneasily. "But not about one particularly foolish act since we met—something that could drive her away."

"Why the fear of her leaving over this and not your past?"

"It happened post meeting her."

"What led up to this particular incident?"

"My first bull ride post-accident was marred by panic; adjusting the straps too loose out of fear led to my hand slipping mid-ride—and a painful fall from grace."

"Afterward?"

"I faced Isobel, battling with my past conquests she had learned about. My words were cruel; I told her we weren't destined to be." Ryder recounted moving towards another mistake after pushing Isobel away. "Spent the night with someone from before—a decision that haunts me."

"And why revert to those patterns after committing to change?"

Ryder searched himself daily for an answer. "Isobel isn’t like the rest—she’s untouched, remarkable... and I flaunted that disdainfully," he confessed, regret lacing his words.

"So you lashed out at Isobel because of your frustrations, then retreated back to old habits—the comfort of fleeting encounters," Dr. Brown observed.

Confronted with this painful truth, Ryder’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Deep down he yearned for transformation: "I can’t continue as I have been—I envision a life with a loving wife and kids... To become a man worthy of my father’s pride."