Page 6 of Ride Me Reckless
I rolled my eyes. "That was one time."
Callie grinned. "And this is your one ex you never really got over. Don't pretend this isn't sitting in your chest like a hot coal."
I took a long drink of water and leaned against the counter, trying to settle the tremble in my spine. She wasn't wrong. She usually wasn't.
"I didn't come back just for the race, you know."
Callie's grin softened. "Yeah," she said, voice quieter now. “Your Mom.”
“Yep,” I said, and the words felt thick coming out. "She's been… slipping a little more.”
Callie sat up a little straighter.
"I've been getting calls from the neighbors," I said. "She’s forgetting things. Leaving lights on. Last week, she lost her keys and swore someone broke in. And yesterday..." I hesitated. "She asked me how Dad was doing."
Callie blinked. “Tessa…”
"He’s been gone eight years." My voice cracked—just a little. I didn’t let it go any further. “You know how she always ran a tight house,” I added quickly, filling the silence. “Never let a damn thing slide. But now? She just seems... Fuzzier than ever. Tired.”
Maybe that’s why I hadn’t told Mom back then—when it all happened. She didn’t seem strong enough to hold something like that. And I hadn’t felt strong enough to say it out loud. Not even to Callie.
Not even when I found myself alone in that hotel bathroom a few weeks after I left Colt, staring down at two pink lines like they couldn’t possibly be mine.
The silence of that room was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.
A flutter of something inside me—hope? dread?—rose before I even knew what to call it.
And then I’d buried it.
“You didn’t tell me it was this bad,” Callie said, her voice quiet now.
“I didn’t want to say it out loud.” I stared at my hands. “But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”
Callie nodded. No questions. No raised eyebrows. Just quiet loyalty.
“You did the right thing,” she said.
But as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes lingered on me—longer than they needed to. Not accusing. Just… knowing.
Like maybe she’d always suspected there was more to the story.
“Is there something else?” she asked gently.
I didn’t answer. Just picked at the hem of my sleeve and kept my eyes on the floor.
We sat in that stillness a little longer.
Then she cleared her throat and tapped her tablet, shifting gears like she always did—businesslike, no pressure. But the space between us held something new now. Something we weren’t saying.
"Okay, well. While we're fixing lives and cracking hearts, let's talk about sponsors. Because this little town's suddenly full of men with six-figure bank accounts and not enough hobbies. I spotted three in the VIP tent tonight, and one of them asked ifyouwere available, which, frankly, I think was about the car, not your relationship status, but either way, I'm calling him."
I let out a small laugh. "Please tell me you didn't give him my number."
"Not yet."
She gave me a wink. "Let me work my magic first."
I smiled, grateful in a way I wouldn't dare admit out loud.
