Page 4 of Reckless Hearts

She doesn’t hesitate.

She runs to him.

Runs.

My jaw tightens as he lifts her easily, pulling her into his arms like he’s done it a thousand times. One boot slides back to steady himself, and then she’s there, wrapped around him. His hand cradles her face, thumb sweeping gently across her cheek before he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

I stand rooted, the corridor’s noise fading as I watch them. That old dynamic of the three of us tangled up in ways no one else ever quite understood. It’s right here. Raw. Real.

We were always like this. Years of running wild on her family’s ranch, sneaking into the hayloft, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs after long days in the sun. Half the time, Callie was asleep on Maverick’s shoulder or poking at my ribs with her frozen toes, giggling while we tried to push her off the couch. It was messy and close and loud, and somehow, it always made sense.

Maverick shakes his head and pulls back a little but doesn’t let her go. His usually guarded demeanor cracks wide open, and the questions pour out of him, just like they did from me.

Callie doesn’t miss the similarities, glancing over her shoulder at me with a sparkle in her eyes. “Easy,” she laughs. “I will answer all of your questions. For now, I’m just happy to see you.”

My muscles lock up again when he keeps his hands on her waist a second too long. His palm spans the whole damn width of her back, and I hate howrightit looks.

He meets my eyes.

There it is. The unspoken standoff.

No words. Just heat and history crackling in the space between us. What used to be friendship has curdled into rivalry in public and resentment in private. Quiet betrayals. Loud silences. All of it simmers beneath the surface as we stare each other down.

Callie shifts away, her brows drawn together as she glances between us. Her expression pinches. “What’s happening between you two?”

That’s right. She’s been gone so long she doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know how he threw me away for the sport like our years together didn’t mean a damn thing. Like I was just some stepping stone he could crush on the way to the top.

And the worst part? He walks around like he doesn’t get why I’m still pissed. Like I didn’t bleed for him too.

When Callie left, I lost her. But when Mav chose bull riding over everything else. We lost us.

We’ve been like this ever since. Two unmovable walls. No point trying to talk through it. Not when he still doesn’t think he did anything wrong.

Maverick raises an eyebrow.

I shrug.

“Same as ever,” I say, letting the bitterness slip into my tone. It’s not subtle. It’s not meant to be.

Callie’s brow furrows. She looks between us, clearly lost, like she’s walked into a story that kept going without her.

“Maverick Lincoln Kane and Colt Wyatt Lawson…” Her voice wavers, less a crack of thunder now, more a quiet plea. “How did it get like this?”

She stands between us, hands on her hips like she’s trying to summon the old fire, trying to be the girl who used to keep us in line.

The only one who could tame two reckless boys who thought they were untouchable.

But we fell apart without her.

Neither of us answers.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, because there’s no good place to start.

How do we explain that the boys she once knew don’t exist anymore?

That we’re men now. Wounded, angry, and competitive to the point of self-destruction?

---