Page 52 of Reckless Hearts

If it means she stays…

If it means she’s happy…

Then I’ll live with it.

I nod, once. “You’re right.”

Colt’s eyes flick to mine, sharp with disbelief. Testing.

I shrug, breathless.

“It was always supposed to be us.”

I stay long after Colt leaves, eyes closed, jaw tight, letting the sting of chlorine burn through the fog of what just happened.

He said it out loud. The thing I didn’t even know I was holding on to. The thing I didn’t think we were allowed to want.

Both of us. With her.

It’s not something I ever imagined Colt Lawson saying. Not without a fight. Not without blood.

But he said it.

And now the world’s off its axis, like gravity has shifted, and I can’t tell which way is up.

The heat outside is stifling, thick against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the pressure behind my ribs. Not guilt. Not relief. Just this hollow, echoing awareness that nothing will be the same after tonight.

I make it back to the motel somehow. Still moving, but barely processing.

Inside, I strip off my shirt and slide under the covers slowly, trying not to wake him.

He’s stretched out on his stomach, half-covered by a sheet, the neon motel sign casting sharp lines across his back. His muscles are tense even in sleep. Like he’s bracing for something.

I lie on my side, staring at the ceiling, every nerve wound tight.

Then my knee bumps his hand.

A quiet rustle. A low sound from his throat.

His fingers brush mine.

We freeze.

Not breathing. Not moving.

Just skin touching. Just heat shared between two people who haven’t been okay for a long time.

He doesn’t pull away.

Neither do I.

It lasts a second. Maybe two.

Then I shift. Roll to face the wall.

And lie there in the dark, wide-awake, every second stretching longer than the last.

Not sure what this means.

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