Page 77 of Ride Me Reckless
And I was ready to welcome what the morning might bring for the first time in years.
Chapter Twenty-One
No Easy Answers
Tessa
Iwoke to the sound of a spatula clinking against a skillet and Colt’s low whistling drifting in from the kitchen. The smell of scrambled eggs filled the air. Real ones, not the powered ones from a box that Callie and I used to eat. I just lay there for a moment, wrapped in warm sheets and the unfamiliar sensation of feeling safe.
The morning light poured in through the thin curtains, soft and golden, warming the bedroom and my bare legs. I shifted to sit up, slowly, one hand automatically going to my stomach.
My belly had definitely changed.
I ran my palm over the little bump. It still felt strange. Not in a bad way, just… unexpected.
Was I showing already?
I didn’t think you were supposed to until later. But I had no frame of reference—this was my first time to get this far, and everything about my body felt like it had its own plan. Maybe Iwas bloated. Maybe I was just out of shape. Or maybe this little bean was growing faster than I expected.
I slid out of bed carefully and padded toward the kitchen, the floor cool against my feet.
Colt was barefoot too, in flannel pajama pants and a fitted T-shirt that hugged his shoulders just right. He stood at the stove, spatula in hand, humming softly and off-key, like a man with nowhere else to go. His hair was still tousled from sleep, and the way he looked over his shoulder the moment he heard me, like he was already smiling before he saw me, made my chest ache in the best way.
“Hey there, sleepy head,” he said. “Perfect timing. Breakfast’s almost ready.”
“Is that real food I smell?” I teased, rubbing at my eyes.
“Only the best for you. No more powdered eggs or drive-thru hash browns.”
He turned off the burner, scooped fluffy scrambled eggs onto two white plates, and carried them to the new dining nook—a wood table with clean lines, soft gray seat cushions, and chairs that didn’t wobble when you sat down. The windows were framed with breezy curtains that Colt had probably pretended not to care about but chose anyway.
It didn’t feel like a rental or a stopgap.
It felt like he meant for me to stay.
Without a word, he grabbed my orange bottle of prescription prenatal vitamins from the windowsill, twisted the cap off, and set one next to a tall glass of milk at my place at the table like it was already part of his rhythm.
I took the pill, washed it down with a long sip, and eased into the chair. The air was warm, and the smell of eggs and toast was comforting and familiar. But even with the calm around me, something in my chest felt tight.
Colt sat across from me and picked up his fork, but he kept glancing at the clock on the microwave. I could feel it coming. “We should get a move on,” he said finally. “The adjuster said ten sharp at your mom’s place. And you know how guys like that are—always early when they’ve got bad news.”
I nodded, already feeling the weight of it. “You’re probably right.”
I picked at the edge of my eggs, not really tasting them now, just moving them around my plate while my mind replayed what the fire had left behind. The teacups. The staircase. The place I once called home.
Colt didn’t rush me, but I could tell he was watching, waiting for the moment I gave up trying to pretend we had time to linger.
“I’m almost ready,” I said, as I changed my clothes and grabbed my sweater from the hook by the door.
The morning had started softly domestic, almost sweet.
But now it was time to step into the ashes of the past.
The air around Mama’s property smelled like old smoke and wet earth.
Even after all this time, the ashes still clung to the ground in streaks, dark smudges where the foundation had cracked. We stood near the truck, watching as the insurance adjuster—a square-shouldered man in khakis and wraparound sunglasses—took slow steps across what used to be my mother’s front porch.
Colt stood beside me, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hadn’t said much since we pulled in, and I appreciated that. I didn’t need words right now. Just presence.
