Page 111 of Reckless Hearts

“I should’ve stayed away,” I whisper. “I never should’ve come back.”

Maverick doesn’t let go. He just rests his chin on my shoulder, his voice rough in my ear. “You did come back. You’re here. We’re all here. And you’re not losing us, Callie.”

Not yet.

Chapter 39

Colt

The beepof machines cuts through the fog first, slow, steady, too calm for how my chest aches like it’s been torn open.

I blink, the scratch of the hospital sheets rough against my fingers, and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m still dreaming.

There’s a weight against my side. Warm. Familiar.

When I turn my head, sharp pain slices down my neck, and I find Callie curled against me, clinging like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. Her hand fists my side like she’s anchoring me to the earth

Maverick’s here too, slouched low in a chair, elbows on his knees, his head bowed like the weight of the whole goddamn world is pressing him down.

He’s watching me like he never once looked away. His sharp gaze softens on mine, his shoulders slumping inward as he takes a deep breath.

“What time is it?” I ask, voice rough.

“Around 3:00 a.m.” He looks down at his clenched fist in his lap. “Jesus, man. You scared the shit out of us.”

“Callie.” I can only manage one word, but he knows what I’m asking.

“She didn’t calm down until she could hear your heart,” Maverick says, voice low and gutted.

I glance down at Callie, at the pale cast to her face, at the way her knuckles are white from holding on to me in her sleep.

“She looks worse than me,” I manage to rasp, trying for a joke that lands somewhere short of funny.

Maverick doesn’t laugh. The red rims of his eyes tell me he doesn’t find any of this funny either.

“What’s the damage?” A part of me doesn’t want to know, well aware this could end my season.

“Dislocated shoulder. Shattered collarbone. Several broken ribs. Bruised tibia,” Maverick says flatly.

“Hey, at least my leg isn’t broken.”

“Yeah… you’re totally fine…”

Sarcasm drips out, and then he’s just… broken.

“Fuck, Colt…”

He can’t look at me. His fingers tear through his hair, like he’s trying to rip out whatever’s eating him alive.

“I thought…” His voice splinters. He fists his hands in his lap, shoulders shaking under the strain. “I thought we were gonna lose you.”

“Nah, I’m not that breakable,” I joke, but the pure anguish carved into his face has a gnawing guilt ripping into my chest that has nothing to do with being trampled. I can’t keep doing this and expect them to stay whole.

Heavy seconds stretch between us, his gaze devouring me like he’s trying to hold me here with sheer fucking will. I want to break the tension, joke around and wash that look from his face, but the pain is catching up to me fully now.

The throbbing in my shoulder has spread up my neck, until it pulses in my temple. The simple act of breathing feels wrong,too shallow, like my ribs are cracking all over again, an echo of every individual fracture as if they’re yelling at me for what I did to them.

Exhaustion’s heavy in my bones, but I can’t stop looking at them, taking in every detail. Callie is crushed against my side. Even in her sleep, she’s holding me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. Maverick shifts closer, close enough I could reach out and touch him if I tried.

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