Page 151 of Reckless Hearts

“You two wreck me,” I whisper.

Own me.

Colt murmurs sleepily, “You’re one to talk.”

I close my eyes. Let the quiet settle in. Let myself believe it’s real.

Because it is.

Because we are.

And nothing else matters.

Chapter 50

Callie

The crowd is deafening.The kind of roar that makes your bones vibrate, even from the safety of a VIP seat. I haven’t watched a single ride in over a month, but this is different. This is the championship. This is for the buckle. Everything they’ve been working for culminates into one event.

Excitement glints in the riders’ eyes. That feeling like anything is possible. Some of them are still gunning for that buckle, while others are just excited to be here. Unlike the usual small-town setups where it’s just bulls, riders, and bleachers, this arena’s enormous. The dome ceiling is sealed above us, making the noise twice as loud.

I watch as the top five riders are announced one by one, each stepping forward to the center of the dirt. Smoke cannons blast. Indoor fireworks spit sparks ten feet into the air behind them. Colt’s got that cocky mask on, the one he saves for moments like this, when everyone’s watching and he wants to remind them exactly who the hell he is.

Maverick’s the opposite, storm clouds and laser focus, jaw tight.

Even from here, I can tell they’re searching.

Their gazes sweep the crowd, sliding past VIPs and cameras and the hum of the arena until they find me.

Just like that, the act drops.

Colt’s grin shifts to something real, crooked and boyish.

Maverick’s scowl breaks, just a fraction, his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile he doesn’t want the cameras to catch.

The world zooms in like the noise dims and the crowd fades, and for one breathless second, it’s just us.

Possessiveness hits hard, fast and unforgiving. Because these boys are mine. Whether I deserve to call them that or not. Somehow, in some way, they’ve always been mine. And they’ll always be mine, no matter what.

Eight years apart taught me I needed closure, or I’d never stop thinking about them. This summer was supposed to be about making peace and saying goodbye. I was so naive to think I could show up here, spend a little time, and not give them a piece of myself. One that’ll rip me apart when I leave.

While I’m lost in my head, the riders disappear back into the tunnels, back to the chutes to get ready.

A few rides go by. Some good. Some bad. A lot of dirt gets eaten. At least no broken bones yet.

Anxiety skitters across my skin like static, crawling and everywhere at once. My heart punches at my ribs in uneven beats, like it’s trying to claw its way out. My fists clench in my lap, trying to breathe through it. In. Out. In. Out. But my lungs feel too tight, like the air can’t reach the bottom.

Maverick’s name blares from the speakers, and every nerve in my body lights up like a struck match.

I knew this was coming. It’s why I’m here. But that doesn’t stop the tremor that starts in my head and rolls all the way to my toes. The cheer that erupts is deafening. Maverick fucking Kane.Untouchable, unshakable, sitting on top of the leaderboard, but he’d be the first to remind everyone not to count Colt out.

God, that interview. Watching him defend Colt, hearing the quiet fury in his voice, the loyalty… undid me.

His face appears on the jumbotron. It’s at least fifteen feet tall and twenty feet wide. The camera zooms in until I can see his lashes, the creases in his sun-tanned eyes. He’s calm, steady, breathing in an even rhythm. I match it without thinking.

I can almost hear him, that low promise against my skin: “You’re okay, Wildflower.” And when he holds me like that, I believe him.

He runs through his checks. Strap. Glove. Grip. Each movement precise. Controlled. He’s doing everything he can to make this safe, even though it never is. Not really.

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