Page 18 of Reckless Hearts

Maverick gestures to the radio with his chin. “You choose.”

Pure static fills the speakers when I twist the knob, and Maverick gives me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you don’t drive in complete silence every trip?”

“Of course not… I listen to true crime podcasts, but I didn’t think you’d like it.”

There’s rustling from the back seat, and Colt pops his head through the center console.

“You too? Have you listened to the one where she faked her own kidnapping to escape her abusive husband and then helped take down his whole trafficking ring?”

“Yeah, that one’s pretty good, but theBackroad Butcherseries had me hooked. The way he stayed under the radar for two decades—terrifying.”

“I bawled like a baby listening to the kids addicted to fentanyl. Fucking travesty.”

The oh-so-reserved Maverick replies, “Same. Those kids didn’t deserve that.”

Mouth open, I sit in awe as the two of them go back and forth about their favorite cases.

Maybe I won’t be the one to bring them back together after all. Clearly, true crime’s doing a good job on its own.

There’s a glint in their eyes as their competitive spirits rear again, getting into their own theories about who did what in unsolved cases.

Both of them have decent arguments, neither really backing down, but at least they aren’t going for each other’s throats for once.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to admit that note makes her look guilty as hell,” Colt says, hanging over the console so far he’s practically in the front seat. You’d think these two were professional investigators for how into it they are.

Maverick’s laugh fills the cab of the truck, and it hits me in the chest.

I haven’t heard that laugh in years and forgot how sweet it is. It’s almost a giggle, which should seem out of place on such a serious guy, but it’s so pure and true it’s impossible not to get caught up in it.

By the way Colt jerks back, no longer shoved between us, it’s clear I’m not the only one affected by Maverick’s laughter.

I twist to look at him. His dark hair covers his eyes, shielding his expression, but a rigidness has replaced the relaxed stance from seconds ago.

I catch Maverick glancing in the rearview mirror, his expression darkening as he takes it in. His mouth pinches tight before he turns forward again, like none of it happened.

Just like that, a wall falls between them, and we’re back to silent resentment.

Well, I can’t take it.

I yank out my phone, shuffling through all my songs. There’s a giddiness forming in my chest when I spot one I know they both like.

We’d belted this song out at the top of our lungs back then, so loud my mom yelled at us. That didn’t stop us from replaying it over and over like it was our summer anthem.

I hit Play, and both guys groan the second the first chord starts.

They’re so alike that it’s hard not to tease them. I’m positive they’d hate it, but come on… the temptation is so freaking real.

Stubborn. That’s what they freaking are when the lyrics start and neither sings.

Fine, then.

I belt the song out as loud as I can, throwing all the same ridiculous emotion into it as I did back then.

I do the stupid hand gestures we made up, not caring how ridiculous I look, and squeeze my eyes shut, letting the nostalgia wash over me.

My head snaps up when Colt joins in on the second chorus, a look of pure exasperation on his face, but he sings with me.

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