Page 121 of Reckless Hearts

He freezes when he sees us tangled up together.

His gaze lands on my flushed face, Colt’s possessive grip around my waist.

Then he looks at me. Really looks.

His eyes go dark with something deep and familiar. Something that makes my breath catch.

Then, without hesitation, he crosses the room, sets the bag down, and leans in.

His hand cradles my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks I didn’t realize were still there.

And he kisses me too.

Slow.

Steady.

Grounding me.

Like telling me without words that he’s here too.

Colt’s hand never leaves my hip.

I kiss Maverick back, my fingers fisting his shirt.

And when he finally pulls away, breathing uneven, he presses his forehead against mine for a second longer, one heartbeat, two.

Colt watches us.

Doesn’t let go.

The three of us are knotted up in a tangle of bruised hearts and broken pieces trying to fit together.

And for one perfect second, it feels like we actually could.

I don’t realize I’m crying again until Colt brushes his thumb over my cheek.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, soft and full of everything he doesn’t know how to say.

But beneath all of it. Under the sweetness, under the desperate hope. The dread is still there.

Buried deep but clawing up my throat.

Because Colt getting hurt cracked me wide open.

Brought every memory of my father’s accident roaring back.

The frantic medics.

The sound of my mother screaming.

The empty house afterward.

The wreckage my father left behind.

Colt telling the doctor he wouldn’t get surgery because it would cost him the season?

It confirms what I already know.

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