Page 68 of Ride Me Reckless
Her smile widened, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re late.”
“Five minutes,” I countered. “You try drivin’ with the donut shop’s coffee bouncing around in your cupholder like it’s got a death wish.”
She stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her. “You brought me coffee?”
“Only if you’re nice to me… and it’s caffeine free,” I teased, offering her the to-go cup with a smirk.
She took it and sipped, closing her eyes like it was the best thing she’d tasted all week. “I’ll consider it. You’re off to a good start.”
We stood there for a beat longer than necessary. The breeze caught her braid and tossed it over her shoulder, and I swear I forgot how to breathe for a second.
“You ready?” I asked finally, tipping my head toward the truck.
She nodded, and as she climbed in, I caught myself staring at the trailer again—at its thin walls and lack of foundation other than two small tires. She was hanging on, but just barely.
That was the thing about Tessa—she was built tough, like the cars she raced. But even the best engines needed fuel, shelter, and someone to tune them up now and then.
I opened the driver’s side door, climbed in, and made a silent vow as I turned the key in the ignition.
She wasn’t going to go through this winter alone. Not if I had anything to do with it.
The cab of my truck was warm, the heater already pushing out air that smelled of new leather. Tessa buckled herself in without a word, cupping her coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. I didn’t rush her. She’d talk when she was ready.
We pulled onto the main road, tires humming over asphalt. The cottonwoods lining the ditch were flashing yellow now, tossing leaves like confetti every time the breeze swept through. We had about twenty minutes till we hit Lovelace, give or take, and for once, I didn’t mind the drive.
“How you feelin’ today?” I asked, glancing over.
She shrugged, but it wasn’t the heavy kind she used to give me back when she was barely holding it together. This one had more weight to it—more purpose. “Better,” she said. “Less like I’m spiraling. More like I’ve got my hands back on the wheel.”
I smiled at that. “What are you going to do withReckless?”
Tessa laughed—soft and short, but real. “Actually, we might be saying goodbye to her soon.”
I raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, blowing on her coffee. “Callie and I have a buyer. Serious guy. From Billings. Runs a restoration shop and wants to getRecklessinto exhibition races—nostalgia drags. Says he’ll keep the name and everything.”
I whistled low. “That’s a hell of a legacy. You okay with lettin’ her go?”
Her jaw tightened just a hair. “Not really. But we need the money, and honestly… It’s time.”
I nodded. I didn’t pretend to understand what it felt like to part with something that defined you for so long. But I couldtell this wasn’t just about selling a car. It was about closing a chapter.
“Got the insurance company comin’ this week,” she added. “They’re finally sending someone out to appraise Mom’s place.”
“Think it’ll be enough to rebuild?”
Her voice wavered a little. “I hope so. But even if it is… I don’t know if she could handle it. That house was her life. Everything in it. Pictures, keepsakes, Dad’s old rodeo trophies… all gone.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “That’s hard. But you’re doing everything you can.”
She turned her head, looking out the window. “I picked a place in town for her. Memory care facility. It’s not fancy, but the staff seems kind, and they’re used to handling… well, you know. The confusion. The wandering.”
“You mean the scary stuff,” I said quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah. That.”
“You made a good call, Tess.”
