Page 161 of Reckless Hearts

“Not like that,” I add quickly. “Not to leave. Just… my stuff’s still there. My whole life, really. I have to pack it up.”

Colt exhales, the kind of breath that carries weeks of tension. “Good,” he says. “’Cause I was starting to get real sick of pretending we were gonna say goodbye again.”

I nudge his thigh with mine. “You weren’t pretending all that hard.”

“I was trying, damn it.”

Maverick snorts.

A beat passes. Just enough for the weight of the future to settle in.

Colt leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, tone quieter now. “About what comes next.”

I turn to him, heart thudding. “Yeah?”

“I got the prize money from the championship. It’s a hell of a payout.” He looks between us. “And I’ve been talking to my folks. They’d sell us the farm.”

I blink. “Sell us the farm?”

He nods. “We’d have the space. Privacy. I know it’s not the same as what you planned. Slow compared to the city…”

“It’s perfect,” I say before he can finish. “I never belonged there anyway.”

Maverick shifts around to face us fully. “You serious?”

Colt’s eyes are steady. “Dead serious.”

Something swells in my chest. It’s not just relief but recognition. Like the three of us have been circling the same truth from different sides, and now we’re finally speaking it out loud.

“We could build something there,” I whisper. “Something real.”

Colt reaches for my hand. Maverick folds his fingers over mine from the other side.

For the first time in a long time, there’s no fear clawing at my ribs. No uncertainty in my chest.

Just peace.

Just them.

The lot’s mostly cleared now. Trucks are pulling out, trailers rattling behind them, kicking up dust and leftover adrenaline. Somewhere, someone calls a goodbye. A horn honks twice.

“We should go,” I murmur, but none of us moves.

Colt’s eyes drift toward me. “We really doing this?”

“Try and stop me,” Maverick replies, helping me down from the tailgate.

Colt tosses the last duffel into the bed. Maverick opens the truck door for me, and I climb into the middle seat where I belong between them.

I reach for the aux cord, brushing my fingers over the dial. “Same road,” I say, glancing at them both. “But we’re not who we were at the start of it.”

Colt leans across me and kisses Maverick’s jaw. “Thank fuck for that.”

Maverick starts the engine, and the hum of it vibrates through my ribs. Colt’s hand settles on my thigh. Mine stays in Maverick’s.

The dust in the rearview mirrors fades.

All I can think is that I’m not afraid anymore.

---