Page 93 of Reckless Hearts

Then he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and I’m left standing in the quiet, breathless and shaking, knowing nothing between us will ever be the same again.

I’m not breathing right.

Not because I’m out of air, but because I don’t know how to take in anything that doesn’t taste like him.

My lips still tingle. My chest is still cracked open. I feel exposed and full and hollow all at once.

And for the first time in my life, I think I get it—what people mean when they talk about being undone by someone.

A soft knock pulls me back to earth, and then the door eases open.

Callie steps inside, her eyes landing on me immediately.

She takes one look at me, hand still covering my mouth, hair a mess, probably looking like I’ve just been run over by an emotional eighteen-wheeler, and her expression softens.

She doesn’t ask what happened.

She doesn’t need to.

She just closes the door behind her and walks straight to me, arms wrapping around my middle like she’s done it a thousand times. Like this is where she belongs.

I sink into her without hesitation.

“Hey,” she murmurs into my chest, her cheek resting over my heart.

“Hey.” My voice is rougher than it should be, but she doesn’t flinch.

Her fingers trace soothing lines up my spine, grounding me. And when I tilt my head to rest against hers, she shifts just enough to press a kiss beneath my jaw. Gentle. Familiar. Hers.

“Luke told me what happened,” she says softly, no accusation in her voice, just concern. “Said you went tearing across the arena like your life depended on it.”

I nod, but it’s shaky. “It felt like it did.”

She pulls back just far enough to look at me, hands sliding up to cradle my face. Her thumbs brush along my cheekbones, eyes scanning mine like she’s checking for damage.

“He said you got there just in time,” she murmurs, voice almost reverent. “That you hauled Maverick out like a man possessed.”

“I was,” I admit. “That rope was frayed. If they’d let him out?—”

Her eyes widen slightly, understanding dawning in the way her hands still against my skin.

“Oh,” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

We fall quiet, the weight of what could’ve happened still thick in the air.

I lower my hand from my mouth, finally, and her gaze follows the movement. Her brows tug slightly, curious.

“You okay?” she asks again, more pointed this time.

Instead of answering, I lean in and kiss her slowly, grounding, nothing like the desperation I had with Maverick. This one is all comfort. All warmth. All the ways I love her that I still don’t know how to say.

She melts into it, arms tightening around me, her fingers finding the back of my neck and anchoring me there. When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine.

“You’re kind of a mess right now,” she says with a little smile.

“Yeah, well,” I mutter. “You try saving a guy’s life, kissing him breathless, and then immediately getting wrapped up by a girl who smells like heaven, and see how you do.”

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