Sitting cross-legged, fresh from the shower, I braid my still-damp hair. Maverick yanks one loose as he passes, grinning when I curse at him. Colt steals the last clean towel, and Maverick steals Colt’s hat in revenge, jamming it onto his head backward and smirking like a satisfied cat. It’s ridiculous and messy and chaotic. And it’s perfect.
