Page 60 of Savage Heart

“I believe you,” I say, smoothing my bag flat.

And I remember.

“Okay, so if you look straight up, that one’s Orion,” he says.

“Oh yeah, I see it. You’re right. So beautiful.”

“And that’s . . .” His voice trails off.

I turn to see his mouth fall open a fraction, breath evening out. I smile despite myself and reach over, tugging his sleeping bag up around his shoulders.

“Good night, my little astronomer,” I whisper.

The cold creeps in, and I slip out of the sleeping bag, quiet as I can, and head toward the fire pit, chasing warmth.

I almost turn back when I see Maverick there, but he spots me.

He’s standing just beyond the firelight, hands in his pockets, face half shadowed. He’s not wearing his hat, which makes him appear more vulnerable, now that I’ve gotten used to seeing him with it.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, voice stripped of its edge.

“I got cold.”

He nods and shifts closer to the fire, leaving space without making a show of it. I take it. The heat licks at my skin, welcome and steady.

For a minute, we just stand there, watching the flames.

“Is it hard for you to be here?”

I’m so caught off guard by his question that I have to take a few deep breaths before answering.

“Harder than you can imagine.”

Our eyes meet. The moment lingers, heavy with everything unsaid.

“You’re a good mom,” he says softly.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Maverick.”

“He’s really something.” The fondness in his voice is unmistakable.

“He’s the best. I’m so grateful that I didn’t—”

I feel Maverick’s eyes on me. “Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t give him away,” I whisper.

My eyes meet his, but I can’t read his expression. “You would’ve given him away?”

“If I’d done what Lincoln wanted—” My mouth clamps shut.

What am I doing?

When I don’t say anything, he shifts and leans closer. “What did Lincoln want?”

I swallow and shake my head, my gaze on the fire. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Iris.”