Page 17 of Ride Me Reckless (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #1)

Chapter Seventeen

A Brighter Tomorrow

Tessa

T he hallway smelled like the usual hospital cocktail of bleach and something vaguely cafeteria-like, but today it didn’t weigh on me the same way.

I passed a nurse with a cart full of tiny cups and smiled at her, because for once, I felt like smiling.

The path to Mama’s room, one I could walk in my sleep by now, didn’t feel heavy today.

It felt… promising.

Helen stood near the door with her tablet in hand and that polished, professional smile she always wore when decisions were coming. I used to dread that smile. Today, I reminded myself it was just part of the process.

“Tessa,” she said warmly. “Mind if we chat for a second before you go in?”

I gave a slight nod and hugged my purse a little tighter, more out of habit than nerves.

“She’s doing well,” Helen began, swiping through her screen like she already knew what it would say.

“The pneumonia’s cleared completely, and her vitals have been stable.

Dr. Maxwell’s pleased with her labs, and he’s agreed to keep her here through the end of the week while we monitor her response to the trial meds. ”

That part wasn’t new, but something in her tone felt lighter. Like we’d made it through the hard part.

She looked at me with quiet sympathy. “But we do need to start thinking about the next step. Medicare won’t approve an extended stay based on dementia alone.

The good news is her supplemental coverage will fully support a memory care facility for the next few months—longer, depending on the location. ”

Memory care.

The words still stung a little, but not like before. Because this time, there was a plan. A way forward. Not a goodbye—just a change.

“I emailed you a list of options,” Helen added, softer now. “Some are right here in Lovelace. A few in Billings and one near Kalispell. You don’t have to decide today, but some of them do have waiting lists.”

“I saw the list,” I replied, voice steadier than I expected. “I’ve started looking. I just…”

She reached out, her hand light on my arm. “You’re doing a great job. I know it’s a lot. But you’re not alone in this.”

For the first time in a long time, I believed that. And it made all the difference.

Inside, Mama was asleep. Her face was softer than it had been on the last few visits. The angry confusion had melted into something calmer. Peaceful, even. I moved to the chair by her bed and sat slowly, the vinyl cushion squeaking beneath me.

Her hands looked smaller these days, but there was something different in her features today—like someone had dusted off the light behind her eyes.

She stirred.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “Morning, Mama.”

Her lids fluttered open, and for a second—just one clear, soul-piercing second—she looked right at me. Not through me. Not past me.

At me.

“Tessa,” she said. Not confused. Not questioning. Just a mother saying her daughter’s name.

I blinked hard and reached for her hand.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

She smiled and glanced down at my hands. “You still bite your nails.”

I let out a half-laugh. “Yeah, well. Some habits die harder than others.”

She looked toward the window, eyes a little watery now. “My roses will be blooming soon, won’t they?” She seemed to question herself.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, unable to tell her that her beloved roses were no longer there. “They already have.” I opened the photo app on my phone and showed her a picture I had taken last year of her tending her flower garden.

“Ah, yes,” she said, touching the picture as if the flowers were real.

Her gaze flicked back to mine. “You’re going to be leaving here soon,” I whispered, brushing a piece of hair from her forehead. “And that’s good news. But I think I’ll wait to tell you more until later.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes drifted closed again, the moment passing like fog over the sun.

Still, I held her hand and sat there until the aide came in to bathe her. Until things got brighter with the kind of light that hurts when you’ve been in your head too long.

As I stood to leave, my phone buzzed.

Callie: Hey, you busy later? Meet me at Roper’s? Feels like we could both use a drink.

I texted back:

Me: Sure. I’m starving. And you’re right. We could.

I pocketed the phone, took one last look at Mama, and told myself I had a few more days. A few more hours to make the impossible feel manageable.

And maybe figure out where I’d go from here.

I pulled onto the main road, the hospital shrinking in my rearview. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windshield, streaking gold across the dashboard as I tapped the gas, heading toward the one place that hadn’t changed much since we were kids.

Ropers sat on the edge of town like it always had—half roadhouse, half bar, all attitude.

It used to be the backdrop for every wild Friday night and hungover Saturday.

If the walls could talk, they’d whisper secrets about first kisses, bad decisions, and big dreams made on cheap beer and even cheaper digital jukebox tunes.

As I passed the familiar weather-beaten sign and pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a little white hatchback parked neatly in our usual spot—Callie’s rental. The one her new boss had arranged for her.

I hadn’t said it out loud, but I was relieved when she mentioned it.

We still technically co-owned the truck, just like the trailer, and sharing it had started to feel like one more tightrope to walk.

Now I didn’t have to feel guilty about using it whenever I needed to, especially with everything going on.

I parked our truck next to her, but instead of getting out, I sat there for a second, the engine ticking as it cooled. The truth sat heavy in my chest.

I was going to have to tell her.

My best friend. The one person who still felt like home in a life that had been blown to hell and patched together with duct tape and stubbornness.

I closed my eyes, and for a moment, the years peeled back like the pages of an old scrapbook.

We were twenty-one, packed into a corner booth with three other girls from our rodeo circuit days.

Someone had smuggled in cupcakes for Callie’s birthday, and the bartender had let it slide, mostly because Callie smiled at him like he hung the moon.

We drank too much, danced like fools, and made loud promises about where we’d be in ten years.

I would be a top-tier barrel racer with my own rig and sponsors.

Callie wanted to open a floral shop called “Petals menus flipped open, though we didn’t need them. We both knew what we’d order before we even parked.

A waitress came by, young and tired looking. She chewed on a piece of gum like it owed her money.

“What can I get y’all?”

Callie grinned. “Two burgers, double cheese, no onions on hers, extra pickles on mine. Fries, not the curly kind. And—” She turned to me, eyebrow raised. “A beer?”

I hesitated just a second too long.

“Water’s good,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Lemon, if you’ve got it.”

Callie’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes flicked up with the sharpness of someone who knew me better than anyone else alive.

“One beer,” she said to the waitress. “And a water with lemon.”

When we were alone again, she leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “Okay. You gonna tell me why you passed on a cold beer at Roper’s, or do I get three guesses?”

I huffed out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I was gonna wait until after we ate.”

She crossed her arms. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” I said softly. “That big .”

Her eyes searched mine, and I watched the moment it clicked.

“No shit,” she whispered, eyes going wide.

“No shit,” I repeated, smiling despite the anxiety churning in my gut.

Callie leaned back in the booth like I’d hit her with a shockwave, then slapped a hand to her chest. “Colt?”

I nodded.

“Well damn,” she breathed. “Did you plan it?”

I laughed. “You know better than that. Do I look like I planned it?”

Callie gave a soft chuckle and shook her head. “No. You look like someone who’s about to throw up. But I know you well enough that you don’t hate the idea.”

“I don’t,” I said honestly. “I’m scared out of my mind, but I want this baby. I want something that’s mine. Something real.”

The waitress returned with our drinks, but instead of leaving, she smiled and nodded toward the bar. “By the way, your tab’s covered. That cowboy in the expensive boots said to put it on him.”

We both turned. At the far end of the bar, Easten Maddow leaned against the counter, all lazy charm and expensive denim, boots polished enough to blind someone. He tipped his Stetson in our direction, then went right back to flirting with the bartender like he had all night to kill.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come over here and start snooping around in my business.”

Callie smirked. “He always that subtle?”

“So, let’s get back to the important stuff,” she said, wrapping both hands around her beer like it was an anchor, “what now? You moving in with Colt? Gonna raise little cowboy junior together on that fancy-ass ranch of his?”

“Slow down,” I said, sipping my lemon water. “I haven’t agreed to anything. The case manager is pushing me to pick a memory care place for Mama. I’ve got… a week, maybe.”

“I thought she gave you options.”

I nodded. “She emailed me a list. Helen’s pushing the one out by the lake. Says the views are calming and the staff is stable.”

Callie scrunched her nose. “That place smells like old coffee and despair.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

There was a beat of silence before Callie said, “What about Heartland Estates? It’s local. We used to visit your uncle there, remember? He loved the place.”

“I thought about it,” I admitted. “It’s just… hard to picture her anywhere that isn’t her house.”

“Then don’t think of it as forever. Just think of it as a breather. For both of you.”

I nodded, grateful for the practical wisdom beneath Callie’s sass.

“And besides,” she said, lips curling up, “I might not be your roommate much longer.”

I blinked. “What? Why?”

Her smile widened. “Matt. My boss. He’s hinting that he is about to ask me to move in with him.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Wait—didn’t you just meet him last week?”

Callie shrugged, but her smile was pure trouble. “Technically, yes. But when you know, you know , right?”

“Callie,” I said slowly, setting down my drink. “You’ve known this guy for, like, seven days. That’s barely enough time to learn his coffee order, let alone if he leaves his toenail clippings on the nightstand.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. “Oh, ye of little faith. Look.”

She tapped around for a second, then turned the screen toward me.

The picture wasn’t even filtered—just Matt, standing beside his truck, sleeves rolled up, one hand in his pocket, and looking like he could model for a ranch supply catalog. I hated how easy the “wow” slipped out of me.

“Okay,” I admitted, “he is hot.”

Callie beamed. “See? You get it.”

“I get it,” I said, taking another bite of my burger. “But just promise me you’ll make him prove he’s not secretly married or living in a doomsday bunker first.”

“No doomsday bunkers,” she promised. “Just a killer smile, good manners, and the best hands I’ve ever seen. And not in a creepy way, I swear.”

I shook my head, grinning despite myself. “I swear, if I end up raising this baby in your empty trailer because you ran off with Mr. Six-Pack, I’m gonna haunt you.”

Callie raised her beer. “Then you better start taking Colt up on his offer. Rhett told me you turned down staying with him.” She took a sip. “He loves you. You know that, right?”

I nodded and grinned. “It’s just—things are moving so fast.”

“Fast. Like five years, fast?” Callie smirked.

“Don’t make it sound worse than it is,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

Then, quieter, I added, “I love him too.”

The words slipped out before I could second-guess them. Hearing my own voice say it gave me pause, like naming it made it more real.

Tangible. Permanent.

When our burgers arrived—hot, greasy, stacked like always—I let myself breathe a little easier.

Because yeah, everything was changing. I didn’t know what tomorrow held. But tonight, with my best friend across the table and Colt’s baby growing inside me, I felt the edges of something I hadn’t in a long time—hope.

Messy, complicated, stubborn hope.