Page 41 of Ride Me Reckless
I turned to Callie and picked up my phone. "I'm calling Hale Performance and telling them I'm cancelling the contract."
The season could wait.
Some races weren't meant to be run alone.
Chapter Eleven
The One Who Stayed
Colt
The edges of the world came back in pieces.
First, the weight in my limbs. Then, the stiff pull in my lower back was anchored deep and hot like someone had welded metal to my spine. My throat was dry. My head swam. The hum of machines and the occasional beep filtered in like a half-remembered song.
For a second, I thought I was dreaming.
She was there—Tessa. Sitting in the chair beside my bed, her frame curled into itself, chin tucked, eyes heavy. She wasn't crying. Just… quiet. Still. Her arm was slipped through the gap in the side rails, her hand wrapped around mine like it belonged there. Like it had never let go.
Her scent hit me before my vision fully cleared. Soft and sharp all at once—vanilla with that bite of cedar she always wore. That scent used to linger on my jacket long after she'd stolen it for the weekend. Smelling it now, here, beside a hospital bed, it just about leveled me.
I shifted, trying to speak, but a grunt escaped instead.
Her head snapped up. "Colt?"
I nodded slowly. "Hey."
Tessa let out a shaky breath like she'd been holding it since the moment she got the call. Her eyes were rimmed in red, not quite from crying—more like from not sleeping. She looked tired, older somehow. Sad. And maybe… scared.
"Your mom?" I rasped, my throat dry as dust.
She gave a slight nod, her voice tight. “Mom’s stable. They're giving her breathing treatments. She's gonna be okay."
I closed my eyes for a beat, letting that sink in. Relief spread through my chest like a crack in solid ice. "Good," I whispered. "That's real good."
"And you?" I asked, opening my eyes again. I didn't mean the usual how-you-holding-up kind of thing. I meant it deeper. The kind of asking that only comes when you still remember the way someone talks in their sleep or how they stir cream into their coffee.
She gave a ghost of a smile. "I've been better."
We both knew that was an understatement.
She looked down at our joined hands like the words were hiding there. "I—Colt, I need to know. What happened? How did you even—why were you there?"
I tried to sit up, instinct mostly, but my back pulled like someone had tied a rope around my spine and yanked hard. I winced and eased back against the pillows.
"Same as every other Sunday," I said, voice rasping less now. "I went to get feed at Joe's, came back through town like I always do. Passed by your mom's and saw smoke coming out of the kitchen window. I slammed on the brakes, jumped out, and started banging on the door. Nothing."
Tessa's gaze didn't flinch. It was locked on mine like she needed the truth steady and straight.
"I kicked the door in," I said. "Ran through the house. Smoke was thick by then. Found her on the bathroom floor."
I swallowed. My chest ached with the memory.
"I picked her up," I went on. "Tried to move fast, but I didn't even make it down the steps before my back gave out."
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
"It was the old injury," I added quietly. "You remember, back at the San Antonio Rodeo?” Tessa squeezed my hand. "A while back, the doctor told me there was scar tissue crowding around a disk. Guess all it took was the right kind of strain to blow it out." I shook my head. "Hell of a time to prove him right."
