Page 12 of Reckless Hearts

Colt chuckles, and she fights a smile, losing quickly. Just like that, the air feels light again.

Drinks go down easily as more of the crew shows up. Other riders I’ve seen before, faces that come and go with the dangers of the circuit, fill the tables around us. The bar pulses with laughter and shouts, the carefree hum of cowboys too young to know their limits or too wild to care.

Colt and Callie go back and forth, familiar as breathing, and I can almost see the kids they used to be, arguing over who got the last slice of Mrs. Kitty’s cake. I watch them together, talking close, and can’t shake the feeling that I’m seeing everything I missed, like glimpses of a life I could’ve had.

Huffing out a breath, I brush the hair off my warm face. Fuck, I must be drunk. I’m getting all sentimental.

“You good?” Luke asks, his voice low enough not to carry. He raises an eyebrow like he’s worried about my sanity. I’m worried about it too, but I huff out a laugh. I’m in for a hell of a night.

I give him a curt nod, but push my glass into the center of the table, not that it’ll do any good, considering it’s empty.

“Your girl’s looking cozy,” Luke remarks, nodding his head in Callie’s direction.

They sit so close their elbows brush, both of them flushed and happy. I search my feelings but find no trace of jealousy. “Just catching up,”

Luke snorts and leans back. “You’re too calm for your own good, buddy.”

“It’s complicated,” I admit, and I scrub my hand through my hair, as if that’ll help clear the mental mess Callie has made.

“No kidding. And here I thought you hated each other.”

I start to respond, but Callie’s laughter cuts through, sweet and sudden, yanking my attention straight back to her. She’s flushed and radiant, a little tipsy, and for a second, I forget about the ache in my shoulders, the rivalry simmering between me and Colt, the past that won’t stay buried.

He catches her instinctively, hand steadying her lower back, and I’m hit with that same flash of electricity.

I don’t know what I expected this night to be, but watching them together like this relaxed and close, like no time passed at all does something to me.

Her cheeks are flushed, her smile loose around the edges, and that familiar spark lights behind her eyes. She exhales like she just made a decision, setting her glass down with a clink. She sways slightly in her seat, bumping into Colt’s side.

“I want to dance.”

“God, why?” Colt groans like it physically pains him, but I can already see the gleam in his hazy eyes. The alcohol’s hitting him hard.

Callie grins at him, all sunshine and challenge. “Unless you’re scared of a little line dancing.”

“Fuck… you just had to put it like that, didn’t you…” Colt drains the last of his drink before grabbing her hand. “Alright, let’s go.”

She stands, then turns to me with that wild gleam in her eyes, the one that used to get us into trouble.

She leans in, her smile crooked. “Mav…”

“Yeah?”

“Dance with me,” she says, playful, teasing.

“I’m not dancing, Cal.”

My joints are creaking as it is. At least the beer’s kicking in, numbing some of the pain.

“Please.”

Well, fuck me. The plea in her voice wrecks me. I’d walk into a fire if she asked.

She pulls me to my feet, weaving us through the crowd like she owns the damn place.

We follow because we always have.

It’s in that moment I know:

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