Page 123 of Reckless Hearts

Same rocking chair. Same busted step.

The house groans like it’s been waiting on me.

I’ve got Callie. I’ve got Mav.

For the first time in years, I want more than just the next ride.

I shift to open the door, but the second my boot hits gravel, Maverick’s already there, a crutch in hand.

“I’ve got it,” I mutter, even though we both know I don’t.

“You’ve got a shattered collarbone and a bruised tibia,” he fires back, already unfolding the crutch. “What you’ve got is a one-way ticket to landing flat on your ass if you try and play hero.”

I glare at him. He doesn’t flinch, just holds it steady.

I hate needing help. Always have.

I let him slide the crutch under my good arm, brace my elbow, and swing my weight forward, climbing down from the truck one stiff, awkward inch at a time.

He doesn’t make a show of it. Doesn’t gloat. Just mutters under his breath, “Stubborn cowboy,” and stays close enough to catch me, like he always has.

It shouldn’t make my chest feel like this.

Tight. Warm. Seen.

We don’t even make it to the front door before it opens and my mom comes barreling down the steps, apron still on, eyes already wet. She wraps me up in a hug like she’s afraid I might vanish if she lets go. I grunt when she squeezes too tight, but I don’t stop her. Not this time.

“You scared the hell out of us,” she mutters into my hair. “You boys never do anything halfway, do you?”

“No, ma’am,” I say, smiling into her shoulder. “We sure don’t.”

Callie gets her own hug a second later, just as fierce.

“And you, young lady, you owed us a visit a long time ago. You didn’t forget about us, did you?” That same tightness I used to hear when I was in trouble, but she didn’t want to yell. She knows what Callie’s absence did to all of us. She wasn’t just a visitor in this house; she grew up in it. My folks didn’t treat her like a guest back then. They treated her like she was a daughter.

“I could never forget you. You still make the best damn peach pie in the state,” Callie says, trying to keep it playful, even as her eyes shine. And just like that, it hits me. I wasn’t the only one who lost something when she left. We all did.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s been way too long,” she says sincerely, squeezing my mom one last time before letting go and stepping straight into one of my dad’s bear hugs.

He wraps her up tight, feet lifting off the ground. “Well, you’re home now.”

Warmth settles in my chest like it belongs there. Like this is how things are supposed to be. I wish I could see Callie’s face to know if she’s feeling it too. She hasn’t said anything about staying.

Still, the way she’s looked at me these last few days… after everything we’ve been through…

I’ve got hope.

Hope that maybe she’s not ready to walk away.

Because I’m sure as hell not ready to let her go.

I can’t lose her again. I won’t.

Maverick trails in behind us, bags over one shoulder, and accepts a kiss on the cheek from my mom. She grabs onto his arms and doesn’t let go.

“And you? What’s your excuse?”

He ducks his head, all sheepish, like he’s fourteen again. “I don’t have one, ma’am. I should’ve come back long ago.”

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