Page 54 of Reckless Hearts

Snorting, he whips his head to the side where there’s a bucket hanging from a post. Inside, it’s half-full with powdered oats.

“You like this?” I ask, and I swear he nods yes. “Alright, just a little though. Too much sugar’s bad for you.”

Does he look disappointed, or am I losing it?

“Okay, okay. Easy.” I scoop a handful of oats from the bucket, stretching my hand completely flat beneath him. Flexible lips travel over my fingers, funneling his treat into his mouth. Wide, flat teeth are visible with each bite, but he’s extra careful not to nip me. Sniffing my hand when it’s all gone, he nudges again, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up my throat. Moments ago, I was heading into a downward spiral, and this guy’s got me giggling.

I used to think horses were magic.

When I was little, my dad would lift me up onto the saddle, hands steadying me, voice warm in my ear.

“Hold tight, baby girl. Trust your seat. Trust the animal.”

Maybe that’s what I’m still doing now, trusting something bigger than me to hold steady when I can’t.

“Just one more,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t be doing this without your owner’s permission, so it’ll be our little secret.”

He nickers as I grab another handful. The bucket being right by his pen at least lets me know he’s not allergic. A little extra snack will be alright for such a charmer. His lips smack together as he cleans every morsel, and then he takes a step deeper into his enclosure when it’s clear I don’t have any more.

“Oh, I see how it is. Using me for food, huh?” I muse, watching him relax and feeling the tension leaving me.

Nothing like a sweet horse to make all your worries go away.

The metal bar separating us tings with the rhythm of my nails. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I press my hand to the wall, feeling the vibration of distant hooves thudding against the ground. The wood under my palm is warm from the sun, and it feels solid, real, grounding.

A memory flickers me, Colt, and Maverick at fourteen, sneaking into the arena after hours, daring each other to climb into the empty chutes.

“One day,” Colt said, grinning that wild, fearless grin. “We’re gonna be legends.”

And Maverick, lounging against the fence like he had all the time in the world, just said,“We already are.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn rising in my throat.

I want that back.

I want this summer to stitch us back together. I want it to erase the years we lost.

With that, I leave the handsome animal, needing to breathe fresh air after so much time in the depths of the building.

I make my way through the tunnel to the open arena, and it’s not long before my sight catches on Colt. He’s leaning over the fence next to the bucking chute, wearing that same excited expression my dad always wore.

From the second Colt stuck his first ride, I knew he’d never give it up. No one brushes with death like that without coming out changed on the other side.

His excitement was contagious that overwhelming high, electricity racing over my body and humming in my veins. It felt like he could touch the sky. When Maverick rode just as well, the entire town talked about them. You’d think they were local celebrities. I’d been ecstatic for them, living in the exhilaration of it all. We’d spent our entire lives in arenas, in and out of places we weren’t supposed to be, constantly getting yelled at, and narrowly escaping. Now, my boys would be a part of it all.

They shined so bright it was hard to look directly at them as they placed event after event. Quickly, they were good enoughto skip age brackets and move to higher-level bulls. They were flying high and taking me with them.

I’ve lost so many moments with them, so much time. They’ve grown into men and I wasn’t there to witness it.

The deep scent of forest envelops me moments before I’m caged in by thick, corded arms, strong hands gripping the bar in front of me. For the short time I’ll allow it, he feels like home. Security wrapped in warmth, a steady place to rest. Maverick’s chest rises and falls against my back, steady and sure, syncing up with my own uneven breaths until the tightness in my chest eases. He doesn’t say a word, resting his chin on top of my head as he scans to see where I’ve been looking. His low hum vibrates into my back, and I drop my head into his shoulder. From this angle, I can just make out his eyes, still focused on Colt.

The thick ridge of his brow stands tall as they pinch together. There’s none of the heat they normally glare at each other with. It’s replaced by something pained, maybe even regretful. As the seconds tick by, an intensity takes over, and his eyes grow impossibly dark, lids hooded as he peers through his long lashes. Goose bumps pepper my neck and arms as the air grows thick, heavy around us. He’s still watching Colt, and I’m still watching him, unable to look away from the way he reveals the depth of something more. A banked fire, firmly held under control. He squeezes my shoulder absentmindedly, his thumb massaging into my neck, which is sore from the drive. I should feel like an outsider, coming back into this world after so long, but his reassuring presence, steady at my back, washes any worries away. Colt does the same in his own way, instead of steady, he’s playful, his smile welcoming me, telling me I’ll always belong here.

It’s heartbreaking to see them both want things to be different while being equally stubborn. Their past stands in their way, but so does the way they react to each other. More thanrivals, more than friends. They haven’t figured out that some of this pent-up aggression they have going on is actually coming from somewhere else, somewhere deeper, more primal.

A place you can’t rationalize away.

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