Page 54 of Ride Me Reckless

“I’ll stop by tomorrow. Don’t do anything dumb, okay?”

Her voice was soft. Warm. Just a little teasing. But there was something behind it.

Something to look forward to.

I smiled, even as a fresh wave of pain tightened across my spine.

“I’m home,” I muttered to no one.

Outside the window, the horizon was dark and wide, and the stars were just beginning to scatter across the sky like loose hay. Somewhere past that barn, in a camper parked on borrowed time, the girl I’d once let go was deciding if she’d let me try again.

She said no once.

But I wasn’t done offering.

Chapter Fourteen

Second Chances

Tessa

The trailer was still and hushed when I woke, the kind of morning quiet that felt like the whole world had taken a breath and forgotten to let it out again. Callie was already gone. She’d caught a ride with the supermarket manager who lived up the road—her first shift started early, and we’d agreed she would leave the truck so I could visit Mom later.

For the first time in weeks, I had the place to myself. There was no background hum of racing engines, no hospital monitors beeping, just the whisper of the wind outside and the occasional creak of the trailer adjusting to the day.

I pulled a sweatshirt over my tank top, feet bare against the cool floor, and padded toward the bathroom. The coffee maker clicked on behind me—Callie had set the timer like always. Thoughtful. Dependable.

The hot water in the tiny shower beat down harder than I expected, stinging my skin in a way that felt… honest. I leanedinto it, let it chase the tension from my shoulders and neck, eyes closed, palms pressed to the cheap plastic wall.

And then, just like yesterday, the world tilted sideways.

It wasn’t dramatic enough to make me instinctively reach for the grab bar. The steam blurred everything. My stomach turned. My knees went soft for a second before I planted my feet wide.

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice rasping against the tile. “That’s enough.”

I shut off the water, stepped out slowly, wrapped myself in a towel, and sank down on the edge of the toilet lid. Drops of water clung to my knees and trailed down my calves. I braced my elbows on my thighs and rubbed a hand down my face.

It wasn’t stress.

It wasn’t the hospital.

And it definitely wasn’t nothing.

My mind started cataloging symptoms like flashcards flipping through the air: lightheadedness, bloating, sore breasts. I’d written all of it off as anxiety. As tight-fitting fire coveralls. As grief. As exhaustion.

But now…

I swallowed. Hard.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a period. Maybe six weeks ago. Or was it more like eight? I’d blamed the chaos. The racetrack. The gnawing worry.

But the truth was—I knew this feeling.

I’d felt it before.

Denver.

The name hit like a slap. Outside the city in a rundown motel where I’d spent a few days hiding from everything—Colt included. I'd just found out. I hadn’t even told Callie. I was still trying to decide what to do when my body decided for me.