36. Callie
Chapter 36
Callie
14 Years Old
It’s the first time I’ve come out to the pen in the week since my dad’s funeral. I’ve been locked in the house this whole time, and Maverick and Colt finally convinced me to come out.
Maverick’s trying to rope a young steer that’s too wild, too fast for him, and even from across the arena, I can tell it’s not going to end well.
“Maverick, don’t,” I call, but he just grins over his shoulder, reckless and golden and fourteen years old, like nothing bad could ever happen to him.
The rope sails through the air, a perfect arc.
And the moment it catches, the steer jerks sideways, harder than he’s ready for.
The snap yanks Maverick off his feet, slamming him sideways into the dirt. His body folds awkwardly, shoulder crunching under the full weight of his fall.
For a second, everything freezes.
Then he’s gasping, and the sound punches the air from my lungs.
I’m running before I know it, boots skidding over dry grass, heart hammering like a drum in my ears.
When I reach him, he’s curled half onto his side, one arm clutched tight against his ribs.
“Mav?” My voice cracks on his name.
He smiles up at me, crooked and bloody-lipped. “Guess that beast’s got some fight in him.”
He thinks he’s being funny. He always thinks he’s being funny.
But his eyes are glazed, and he’s pale under the sunburn, and his breath comes too short, too shallow.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, dropping to my knees beside him.
He still smells like dust and sunshine and that stupid soap he always steals from Colt.
I press my hands uselessly against his chest like I can physically hold him together, like I can keep him from falling apart if I just try hard enough.
“It’s just a bruise, Cal,” he says, but there’s a wobble in his voice he can’t hide.
“I’m fine.”
He’s not fine.
Neither am I.
Because all I can see, all I can hear, is my father’s body lying broken in the dirt.
The roar of a crowd that didn’t know he was already gone.
My vision blurs.
I curl over Maverick, breathing in his warmth, anchoring myself to the steady, stubborn beat of his heart.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, locked in a silent battle against the fear trying to tear me apart.
Eventually, Colt jogs up, cursing under his breath when he sees Maverick on the ground.
He kneels beside us, throwing an arm around my back without thinking, steadying both of us.
“We’re gonna get him up, okay, Cal?” he says quietly. “Gotta trust me.”
I nod, but I don’t let go.
Not until they pull him away from me, carefully, gently, carrying him toward the truck, where someone’s already calling for ice packs and Tylenol.
I stay kneeling in the dirt long after they’re gone, my hands trembling in the empty air where Maverick had been.
Something breaks inside me then.
Something fragile and desperate and beyond fixing.
Because I realize, in that moment, no matter how much I love them…If I stay here, someday, I’ll lose them too.
Just like I lost him.
And I won’t survive it.
That night, while they’re still laughing about it over burgers and soda, I start looking at boarding school applications.