Page 43 of Reckless Hearts

“I’m gonna be the best bull rider in the world,” Maverick declares, too casual to be kidding.

Colt snorts. “You mean if you don’t get your head knocked off first.”

“You’re just jealous ’cause you know I’ll outscore you.”

“You wish.”

They bicker lazily, no real heat behind it, just the kind of jabs they’ve traded since they could talk. I close my eyes and let the sound wash over me, familiar, safe.

“No matter what,” I say quietly, cutting through their teasing.

They both fall silent.

“No matter what happens… we stick together.”

I don’t know why the words feel so important. I just know they do. Like a promise bigger than any of us.

Colt’s hand finds mine in the dark, rough and calloused even at fourteen. Maverick bumps my shoulder with his, the movement easy, unconscious.

“We will,” Maverick says, like it’s obvious.

Colt presses his palm flat against mine. “Always.”

I don’t know it yet, but this is the moment that will stick. The one that will come back to haunt me later.

When everything falls apart.

When the promises we made feel like splintered glass in my hands.

But for now, it’s perfect.

Colt hums something tuneless under his breath, and when I glance over, he’s drawing shapes in the dust coating the side panel. A crooked flower blooms under his fingertips. A wildflower, fragile and stubborn and real.

Maverick sees it too. He smirks and nudges Colt.

“Figures you’d pick the only flower tougher than you are.”

Colt just shrugs, not looking up. “Seemed right.”

When Maverick glances at me, something shifts in his eyes, something too big for either of us to name.

The heat, the stars, the feel of their bodies bracketing mine. It all weaves together until it’s impossible to tell where one of us ends and the others begin.

We fall asleep like that, tangled up under the endless summer sky, believing that nothing could ever pull us apart.

I didn’t know then that some promises are meant to be broken.

And some are meant to be shattered… just so you can rebuild them stronger.

Chapter 14

Colt

Countingthe cracks in the motel ceiling for the last hour has become a new form of torture. I’ve lost track and restarted at least three times, and I’m pretty sure that last time nearly caused an aneurysm. It still beats the alternative, counting every one of Maverick’s steady breaths.

Last night was pure hell, coming in late, hoping he’d be asleep, only for us both to lie awake beside each other. Not that he had a problem falling asleep. Unlike me, he passes out like I’m not even there.

It really shouldn’t be a big deal. We’re sleeping next to each other. So fucking what? We’re adults.

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