Page 69 of Ride Me Reckless

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Feels like all I do lately is make decisions I’m not sure about and hope something sticks.”

“You’re makin’ the best calls you can with what you’ve got,” I told her. “That takes guts.”

She looked at me then. Really looked. And whatever she saw in my face must’ve reassured her, because her shoulders relaxed, just a little.

“I just don’t want her to feel like I’m abandoning her.”

“You’re not.”

I meant it. If anyone was carrying more than her fair share, it was Tessa. And here she was, sitting next to me, not complaining, not running—just facing it all head-on. I didn’t know how she hadn’t burned out by now.

Most people would’ve cracked. Hell, I might’ve cracked.

The road curved, and I eased into it, glancing her way again.

Whatever this was between us… it wasn’t casual anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been for a while. I wasn’t just here to play chauffeur. I was here because I wanted to be.

I was in this whole damn thing, for real.

All in.

That meant showing up for the little things, too—even the ones that made my stomach twist with nerves.

The exam room smelled like something between baby powder and disinfectant. Tessa sat on the edge of the padded table, the paper beneath her crackling with every nervous shift.

The nurse had already been in and out, cheerful and chatty, cracking a few jokes that actually got Tessa to laugh. I played along—couldn’t help it. Anything to take that crease out of her forehead.

Now it was just the two of us again, waiting.

She was quiet, fingers twisted together in her lap. I could tell her mind wasn’t here—not really. It was back somewhere else. Somewhere darker.

“You okay?” I asked gently.

She gave a short nod, but it didn’t come with a smile this time. “Yeah. Just... kinda nervous.”

I knew what she meant. She didn’t have to explain.

Before long, the door opened again, and Dr. Jensen came in. He was wearing a soft blue shirt under his white coat and a tie with little storks on it. He looked like the man who’d delivered half the babies in the county.

“Morning, Tessa,” he said, pulling up his stool. “Colt. Good to see you both.”

I offered him a polite nod, but my eyes stayed on her. She straightened just a little, trying to look composed and brave.

Dr. Jensen glanced at the screen on his laptop. “Looks like you’re about eight weeks, give or take. First prenatal, right?”

Tessa nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, first thing—we’ll get some bloodwork done today. Then we’ll schedule the ultrasound so we can confirm the due date and check on how the baby’s doing.”

He spoke as if this were all routine. Easy. But I saw Tessa’s shoulders tense.

“Doc,” she said quietly, “I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago. Around the same time, maybe even a little sooner.”

His face softened instantly. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I know that leaves a scar, even if no one can see it.”

She blinked fast and stared at her hands. “I just… I need to know. Is there something wrong with me? Should I be doing something different this time? Eating differently? Lying flat? I keep wondering if I did something wrong before…”

“Hey,” I murmured, reaching over to cover her hand with mine. She didn’t pull away.