Page 84 of Ride Me Reckless
I stopped walking.
Colt nearly bumped into me, but I couldn’t move. I just stared.
“Mama?” I said cautiously, not wanting to break whatever spell had settled over her.
She turned her head, those warm brown eyes searching my face—and for a heartbeat, I saw it. Recognition. Clear as day.
“Well, it’s about time,” she said, lips twitching into a smile. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”
I hurried forward, nearly tripping over my own feet as I crouched beside her. “Mama, we didn’t forget. They told us six.”
“They told me five-thirty,” she sniffed, like it was the greatest of indignities. “But that’s all right. I kept myself busy.”
The nurse behind the desk handed me a small paper bag and a clipboard with forms. “Here are her prescriptions—memory medication, same dosage. No notable improvements, but no major declines either. Some lucid moments, some fog. Standard for her stage.”
I nodded, heart thumping. “Thank you.”
Mama turned her head slightly, and her face lit up when she saw Colt standing there. “Well, Bob,” she said warmly, reaching for his hand. “You always were polite. Mowed my yard every Tuesday without fail, even in the heat.”
I sucked in a breath, trying not to laugh. Colt didn’t flinch—he just bent down, gently squeezed her hand, and said, “Yes, ma’am. Always happy to help.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling too big. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t even blink. Just went along with it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mama beamed. “Such nice manners.”
As we gathered her things, I glanced over at Colt. His eyes met mine, and he winked.
It was such a small gesture, but it carved a warm space into my chest. After all the unknowns I’d braced for over the last weeks, this little flicker of clarity felt like a gift.
“Let’s get you home, Mama,” I whispered.
She patted my cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The ride home was quiet, but not tense—just soft, like the hush that falls over the world when the sun begins to slide behind the hills. Mama hummed a little to herself, some old hymn I hadn’t heard in years. Colt glanced over at me once, a question in his eyes, but I just nodded. Let her have it. Let her be wherever her mind had taken her for now.
As we turned down the road toward the double-wide, the last bit of pink sun streaked across the mountains like a fadingpromise. The porch light was already on—Colt must’ve set the timer before we left.
When he parked and hopped out to open her door, Mama squinted through the windshield at the house, shielding her eyes with one trembling hand.
Then she whispered it, with a breath so full of conviction it made my heart ache.
“Praise the Lord. I’m finally home.”
Colt and I exchanged glances, but neither of us said a word. We didn’t want to disrupt the moment. We just wanted to get her inside while that spark was still burning bright.
Mama stood in the center of her new bedroom, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the dresser like she wasn’t quite sure if it was real. She scanned the space slowly, thoughtfully, like her memories were reaching out and brushing across every surface.
Her gaze settled on the framed photo Colt had set out earlier. A picture of her from years ago—healthy, bright-eyed, grinning, sitting on Methuselah, her horse, after winning an event at the county fair.
She reached for it with trembling fingers. “That’s me…” she whispered, eyes glistening. “I remember this day.”
She turned toward me, her voice still soft but steadier than I expected. “You and Colt used to live here… but…”
I stepped forward and gently touched her shoulder. “And now all three of us will live here again. Just for a while. Until you’re strong enough to do whatever you want next.”
She blinked at Colt then. Really looked at him.
Her brows drew together as something clicked behind her eyes. “It was you,” she murmured. “It was you that pulled me from the fire.”
