53. Callie
Chapter 53
Callie
The dust is finally starting to settle.
Literally. The last of the bulls have been loaded, the gates dragged closed, and the thrum of post-championship adrenaline has faded to a hum. Most of the riders are packing up their gear, their trailers rumbling over dry gravel as they pull away one by one. The season’s over.
I sit on the tailgate of Colt’s truck, legs swinging, boots tapping together. The metal’s warm under my thighs, sun-baked and steady. Colt’s beside me, one arm looped loosely around my waist, the other balancing a water bottle between his knees. Maverick leans against the open tailgate, sunglasses perched on his nose like he’s hiding from the world, but I know better. He hasn’t stopped watching me since we sat down.
It’s quiet here, but not empty. Just… done. Like we made it to the last page of something that mattered.
Colt nudges my knee with his. “You thinking about running again?” he teases, voice low.
I huff a dry laugh. “Nah. Might just take a minute to believe it’s real.”
Maverick drops his sunglasses down his nose, eyes glinting with amusement. “Better get used to it.”
Behind us, someone whistles. Luke ambles over, tossing a pair of gloves into the bed of his truck and giving Colt a look that’s equal parts fond and exasperated.
“You three look like a damn movie poster,” he mutters. “You planning on riding off into the sunset or just sitting there long enough to make everyone jealous?”
Colt smirks. “Little of both.”
Luke claps him on the back, nods once at me, then tips his hat toward Maverick. “So is it true? You two done?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say things are just beginning,” Maverick says, his tone even, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Can’t say I’m complaining. I think I’ve finally got a shot next year.” He winks as he walks backward and leaves us with parting words. “Glad to see you finally getting over your bullshit and settling down.”
Just like that, it’s the three of us again. I bite my lip, but Maverick still catches the hint of my smirk.
“Think that’s funny?”
“You guys really were drowning in your own idiocy.”
“That’s only because we didn’t have you.” Colt kisses my temple, then rests his head against mine. “You’re ours now.”
Warmth settles in my stomach, the kind that warms you all the way down to your bones.
The truck bed creaks as I shift, curling my fingers around the edge of the tailgate. The sun’s dipping lower now, stretching golden light across the lot like it’s trying to hold on to the day a little longer.
“I need to go back,” I say quietly.
Colt’s arm stiffens slightly around my waist. Maverick’s head turns, slow and sharp.
“Not like that,” I add quickly. “Not to leave. Just… my stuff’s still there. My whole life, really. I have to pack it up.”
Colt exhales, the kind of breath that carries weeks of tension. “Good,” he says. “’Cause I was starting to get real sick of pretending we were gonna say goodbye again.”
I nudge his thigh with mine. “You weren’t pretending all that hard.”
“I was trying, damn it.”
Maverick snorts.
A beat passes. Just enough for the weight of the future to settle in.
Colt leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, tone quieter now. “About what comes next.”
I turn to him, heart thudding. “Yeah?”
“I got the prize money from the championship. It’s a hell of a payout.” He looks between us. “And I’ve been talking to my folks. They’d sell us the farm.”
I blink. “Sell us the farm?”
He nods. “We’d have the space. Privacy. I know it’s not the same as what you planned. Slow compared to the city…”
“It’s perfect,” I say before he can finish. “I never belonged there anyway.”
Maverick shifts around to face us fully. “You serious?”
Colt’s eyes are steady. “Dead serious.”
Something swells in my chest. It’s not just relief but recognition. Like the three of us have been circling the same truth from different sides, and now we’re finally speaking it out loud.
“We could build something there,” I whisper. “Something real.”
Colt reaches for my hand. Maverick folds his fingers over mine from the other side.
For the first time in a long time, there’s no fear clawing at my ribs. No uncertainty in my chest.
Just peace.
Just them.
The lot’s mostly cleared now. Trucks are pulling out, trailers rattling behind them, kicking up dust and leftover adrenaline. Somewhere, someone calls a goodbye. A horn honks twice.
“We should go,” I murmur, but none of us moves.
Colt’s eyes drift toward me. “We really doing this?”
“Try and stop me,” Maverick replies, helping me down from the tailgate.
Colt tosses the last duffel into the bed. Maverick opens the truck door for me, and I climb into the middle seat where I belong between them.
I reach for the aux cord, brushing my fingers over the dial. “Same road,” I say, glancing at them both. “But we’re not who we were at the start of it.”
Colt leans across me and kisses Maverick’s jaw. “Thank fuck for that.”
Maverick starts the engine, and the hum of it vibrates through my ribs. Colt’s hand settles on my thigh. Mine stays in Maverick’s.
The dust in the rearview mirrors fades.
All I can think is that I’m not afraid anymore.
Not of staying.
Not of love.
Not of being chosen last.
Because they will always choose us, and I will choose them right back.