Page 128 of Reckless Hearts

I climb onto the lowest rail, arms stretched wide for balance. The wood creaks beneath me, but it holds.

“Remember when you tried to rope that bale of hay and ended up tying yourself to the fence?” I grin, tossing the memory over my shoulder.

Colt groans. “You gonna bring that up every time we’re near this place?”

“Yes,” Maverick answers flatly, stepping onto the bottom rail beside me. “Because it was hilarious.”

Colt snorts, brushing a hand through his hair. “You try learning to dally with a rope twice your size.”

“You were seven,” I tease.

“And convinced he was already a rodeo champion,” Maverick adds, voice lighter than I’ve heard all day.

We fall into silence, each of us taking in the space. The dirt’s cracked, weeds creeping through in places, but the bones of it are still there. Solid. Familiar. Like the three of us, maybe older, rougher, but still standing.

A breeze kicks up, carrying the scent of dry grass and storm on the wind. I glance toward the sky, dark clouds, bruised and low. “We should probably head back.”

Too late.

The first fat drop hits my arm. Then another. In seconds, the sky opens up like someone flipped a switch.

“Shit!” Colt laughs, already trying to tuck the blanket back into the basket we brought, but he’s fumbling with one hand and a crutch, moving too slow.

“Go!” I take them from him, already half running toward the shelter just past the edge of the field.

I barely make it a few steps before my boots slip in the wet grass, and suddenly, Colt’s no longer behind me.

“Don’t—” he starts, but Maverick’s already there, cutting him off with a curse.

“Save it.”

In one smooth motion, Maverick hauls Colt up into his arms like it’s nothing.

Colt lets out a strangled sound. “I swear to God, Mav?—”

“Complain later,” Maverick grits out, already jogging after me, rain soaking his shirt. “Or you can break the other leg too.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

They catch up fast, and we duck under the rusted metal overhang just as the rain really lets loose, thunder rumbling low as the rain pounds down in silver sheets. It’s not much, just a wide-open space with one wall half caved in, but the roof holds, and it’s dry.

Colt’s scowling when Maverick sets him on his feet, muttering something about dignity and how he could’vemanaged, but his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are lit up in a way I haven’t seen in years.

I don’t say anything. I just smile and lay the blanket out while they catch their breath, drenched and grinning, the ease between them as natural as breathing, like no time has passed.

The wind howls just outside, pushing sheets of rain sideways through the open bay. But in here, it’s warm, cozy in the way only something old and familiar can be.

Colt eases down onto the blanket, groaning as he shifts to stretch out his leg. Maverick stands nearby, shaking the water from his hair, his shirt stuck to his chest, dark with rain. He glances at me, then down at Colt, like he’s checking both of us before finally settling beside him.

It’s quiet for a moment. Just the sound of the storm and my heartbeat.

“I forgot how good this kind of quiet feels,” I say softly, brushing damp hair out of my face. “Like the world’s finally minding its business for once.”

I glance between them, both soaked, both beautiful in completely different ways. The kind of beautiful that aches a little to look at. Maverick’s gaze is steady, guarded like always, but there’s warmth there now.

Colt grins. “We still got those strawberries?”

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