Page 53 of Ride Me Reckless
“Deadline,” I said. “I’ve got a girl to win over.”
Another beat of silence, then Carlos chuckled. “I’m on it.”
I hung up just as Rhett pulled into my drive. Home.
I reached for the door handle, but paused, watching the light spill across the front porch like it was waiting for me.
Rhett looked over. “You sure about this?”
“Nope,” I said, pushing the door open and wincing as I swung my legs out. “But I ain’t lettin’ Tessa and her mom freeze in that tin can trailer through a Montana winter. And now, you can try to sweet-talk Callie into your bed.”
Rhett grinned. “That’sthe Colt Bennett I know.”
I tipped my hat low and stepped out into the evening air. Victory tingled in every sore muscle.
For the first time since Tessa left, I felt like I had a purpose again.
And hopefully, a second chance worth fighting for.
My back was on fire when I reached the porch steps, but my pride was riding high.
The front door opened with a little more effort than I remembered—but damn, it felt good to be home. Not a hospital beep in sight. No scratchy sheets or nurses tapping at the door before sunrise.
Just the soft thud of my boots on hardwood and the scent of pine cleaner Millie must’ve used before she left yesterday.
I limped through the living room and dropped into my recliner like it owed me money.
Heaven.
Until my phone rang.
I groaned, fished it out of my pocket, and saw the hospital’s number glowing back at me. Of course.
“Colt Bennett,” I answered, already smirking.
The voice on the other end was brisk and female. “Mr. Bennett, this is Megan from the hospital. Just calling to inform you that you are, as of now, officially discharged.”
“Well, that’s good news,” I said, stretching my legs out a little farther.
There was a pause. “Dr. Benson is… not amused.”
I chuckled. “He’ll get over it.”
Another sigh. “He said, and I quote, ‘Tell him he’d better keep that stubborn hide out of trouble if he wants to avoid round three on my table.’”
I smiled. “Tell him I said thank you.”
She hung up without a goodbye, which, all things considered, was fair.
I laid the phone on my chest and stared at the ceiling for a beat, just letting the quiet wrap around me.
Then I picked it back up, thumb scrolling through my contacts until I landed on her name.
Tessa.
I didn’t call. Didn’t text.
Just tapped the last voice memo she’d sent, back when I was still in that stiff hospital bed pretending not to count the minutes between her visits.
