Page 141 of Reckless Hearts

Callie tosses her bag into the back seat and slides into the passenger side, her bare foot hanging out the window before the door’s even shut.

I take the driver’s seat, adjust the mirror, and sit there for a second with my hands on the wheel. Gravel crunches under Colt’s boot as he walks around and climbs into the back seat. His hand settles on the console, and she takes it, like it’s second nature, like they’ve done this a hundred times before

I turn the key, and the engine hums to life.

The rearview mirror catches the porch one last time. Colt’s parents stand there like a postcard, his dad with an arm slung around his mom’s shoulders, both of them waving, both of them watching us go like they know something we don’t.

Something in my chest shifts. A slow, hard tug behind my ribs.

We pull away. Tires crunch against the gravel. The house gets smaller, and unwanted memories start to replay.

The hospital.

That stink of bleach and panic.

Callie’s voice cracked as she fought to stay calm speaking with the nurse.

Colt too pale, too still, blood streaked on his brow.

And me…standing there, pretending I wasn’t fucking terrified.

There’s no such thing as easy in this sport. One bad second is all it takes.

I used to live for the rush. Now, it’s the fastest way to lose them both.

The high doesn’t thrill me anymore. It guts me.

Because now I’ve got more to lose than just myself.

Callie glances over at me, her sunglasses sliding down her nose. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t ask again, just lets go of Colt’s hand and threads hers with mine.

It’s that quiet kind of love, that knowing kind. It hits hard.

The two weeks felt like a piece of heaven. Cold beers. Fireflies blinking lazily in the dusk. No words, just Callie’s head on my shoulder and Colt’s foot nudging mine and that deep, impossible peace.

Everything’s different now. That part of me that chased chaos just to feel something, it’s quiet for once. This place did that. The slow mornings. The way she looks at me. The wayhedoes.

There’s something better than adrenaline. Something steadier.

That’s when it hits me.

I used to think bull riding was everything. That nothing else could match the way it made me feel free, wild, infinite.

But now?

Now I know better.

I don’t want the ride. I want the landing.

I want the after.

The hand on mine. The porch light on. The kind of love that doesn’t burn out the second it gets hard.

The truck hums beneath us, the road wide open ahead.

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