Page 104 of Reckless Hearts

Inside, it’s all cracked vinyl booths and faded photos of rodeos past.

Luke’s already there when we pull in, a donut in each hand, powdered sugar dusting his black T-shirt like snow.

“’Bout time you idiots showed up,” he calls, flashing a sugar-drenched grin.

Colt flips him off. Maverick steals one of the donuts without slowing down.

Luke just laughs like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he always has.

Colt orders enough food for five people. Maverick steals my bacon the second I look away. I retaliate by stealing his toast and dumping hot sauce on it when he’s not paying attention.

He nearly chokes, and Colt howls with laughter loud enough to make the waitress snort behind the counter.

We sit there way too long, drinking refills of coffee, listening to the old-timers at the next table argue about bull stats from twenty years ago like it’s life and death.

I can’t stop smiling.

Neither can they.

Later, after we’re full and lazy with sun, we end up down by a river we spotted on the drive.

It’s wide and slow and sparkling like a mirror under the afternoon heat.

We kick off our boots and wade in up to our knees, the water shockingly cold against our sunburned skin.

Maverick starts a splash war that ends with Colt tackling him straight into the mud.

I try to slip away, laughing so hard my sides hurt, but they’re faster. Maverick grabs me around the waist and hauls me backward with a triumphant roar.

Colt comes up behind us, hands steadying my shoulders just as Maverick lets go.

And for a breathless second, sandwiched between them, laughter ringing in my ears, I swear the world stops spinning.

We dry off in the sun, sprawled out on the grass like stray dogs.

Colt lies flat on his back, arms flung wide, flooding in the heat. Maverick sits cross-legged, one knee bent, tossing rocks into the river with half-hearted aim.

I end up between them without even thinking.

My head finds a spot against Colt’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing slow and solid beneath my cheek.

One hand curls loosely around Maverick’s ankle where it juts toward me, his skin warm and rough under my palm.

The sun beats down, soaking into our clothes, drying the river water clinging to our skin. A faint breeze stirs the scent ofwet grass and river rocks into the air, crisp and clean and sharp with the coming change of seasons.

It reminds me of those endless summers we thought would never end before life got complicated.

Colt would climb the trees by the river and leap out with no warning, sending Maverick into a panic trying to fish him out.

I’d sit on the bank with my knees tucked to my chest, pretending not to watch them, pretending not to care but secretly hoarding every laugh, every wild, reckless second.

“You remember when you fell in trying to show off?” I murmur, nudging Colt’s boot with my toe.

He cracks one eye open, grin lazy. “I was demonstrating advanced river-crossing techniques.”

“You lost your shorts,” Maverick supplies helpfully, chucking another rock toward the water.

“Strategic,” Colt says solemnly. “Kept me aerodynamic.”

---