Page 107 of Reckless Hearts

The rope sails through the air, a perfect arc.

And the moment it catches, the steer jerks sideways, harder than he’s ready for.

The snap yanks Maverick off his feet, slamming him sideways into the dirt. His body folds awkwardly, shoulder crunching under the full weight of his fall.

For a second, everything freezes.

Then he’s gasping, and the sound punches the air from my lungs.

I’m running before I know it, boots skidding over dry grass, heart hammering like a drum in my ears.

When I reach him, he’s curled half onto his side, one arm clutched tight against his ribs.

“Mav?” My voice cracks on his name.

He smiles up at me, crooked and bloody-lipped. “Guess that beast’s got some fight in him.”

He thinks he’s being funny. He always thinks he’s being funny.

But his eyes are glazed, and he’s pale under the sunburn, and his breath comes too short, too shallow.

“Don’t move,” I whisper, dropping to my knees beside him.

He still smells like dust and sunshine and that stupid soap he always steals from Colt.

I press my hands uselessly against his chest like I can physically hold him together, like I can keep him from falling apart if I just try hard enough.

“It’s just a bruise, Cal,” he says, but there’s a wobble in his voice he can’t hide.

“I’m fine.”

He’s not fine.

Neither am I.

Because all I can see, all I can hear, is my father’s body lying broken in the dirt.

The roar of a crowd that didn’t know he was already gone.

My vision blurs.

I curl over Maverick, breathing in his warmth, anchoring myself to the steady, stubborn beat of his heart.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, locked in a silent battle against the fear trying to tear me apart.

Eventually, Colt jogs up, cursing under his breath when he sees Maverick on the ground.

He kneels beside us, throwing an arm around my back without thinking, steadying both of us.

“We’re gonna get him up, okay, Cal?” he says quietly. “Gotta trust me.”

I nod, but I don’t let go.

Not until they pull him away from me, carefully, gently, carrying him toward the truck, where someone’s already calling for ice packs and Tylenol.

I stay kneeling in the dirt long after they’re gone, my hands trembling in the empty air where Maverick had been.

Something breaks inside me then.

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