Page 16 of Recklessly in Love

I think I am.

Crap.

Finally, he crosses the finish line, arms raised triumphantly to Rae’s and everyone else’s cheering. He deserved it after stepping aside in all the other events this week. Mia pulls me along to where Greg, now joined by Nate, is fishing around for his clothes. Both men are panting and sweaty. And naturally, I find it insanely hot. I raise my eyebrows and give Mia a look.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” she remarks drily.

I give her a knowing smile, but she’s already on to congratulating her man for making second place.

“Congratulations,” I say, stepping into Greg’s eye-line as he pulls his sweater on.

He looks up with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. And it’s the first time we’ve been face-to-face since Sunday. And despite his win, he looks defeated.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

I open my mouth to ask him what’s up, but Rae calls for the women to get ready to take their marks. In the moments it took me to glance her way and back at Greg, he’s disappeared. And now I’m sure something’s up.

But whatever it is will have to wait until after I’ve kicked all these bitches’ asses.

I do a few quick stretches before claiming an empty bin and stripping. When I get to the line, I realize there are half as many women as there were men, most of them much older. You’ve got to respect the grannies out here in their underpants. Hell, I hope that’s me someday.

I chuckle at the thought as Rae fires the starting gun … and promptly get elbowed hard just as my left sneaker hits a rock-less, icy patch. My core muscles engage as my body flails, but it’s hopeless. My legs fly from under me as I fall backward behind the pack of hos that pay no attention to my plight. Pain registers as the back of my skull meets ice and rock and snow. And everything goes black.

CHAPTER SIX

GREG

I’m standing between the runners and the building, debating whether I should help Rae monitor the race or hide in my office when I hear the collective, horrified gasp of the crowd that can mean nothing good. Thankfully my instincts override my shit mood, and I run the few hundred feet back to the race.

I find Nate, his back to me, dragging someone just off the race’s path. Shit.

“Someone get her a blanket,” he calls to the unmoving spectators as he kneels to assess the person.

I see Ned spring toward the pile of supplies Rae had on hand, digging for a blanket. But I move faster, removing my coat. Ned is not touching a nearly naked woman on my watch.

But as I skid to a halt, dropping to my knees next to him, my heart drops.

Joanie.

Pale and still, and somehow even more beautiful than ever. I wiggle my coat under her with Nate’s help and button it around her just as Ned arrives with a blanket. I shoot him dagger-eyes and take the blanket for her legs. Thankfully he fucks off right quick.

“What happened?” I ask as Nate delicately examines her head.

“Slipped,” he grunts. Then, he fishes a car key out of his pocket with one hand. “Black bag, behind the driver’s seat.”

I nod and run for the parking lot, trying not to worry myself into a panic.

In the few minutes it takes me to get back, the race has been stopped, and the runners are either crowded around Joanie with the rest of the town or pulling on clothes. As I drop Nate’s bag next to him, I note Mia still in her underwear, kneeling on the snow beside her friend, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I shake my head and make for the bins, locating Mia and Joanie’s clothes with Rae’s help. By the time I get back with them, Joanie’s eyes are open, and Nate is asking her questions in a gentle voice. I nudge Mia, then again before she finally looks at me, and I silently hand her the pile of clothes. She nods her thanks and returns her attention to her friend, simply clutching the garments to her chest.

“She’s okay,” Nate finally declares in a clear, raised voice. Then looks at Mia, “Put your clothes on, babe, so you can help me get her dressed, okay?”

Mia sniffs deeply and nods, fumbling through the pile. With a sigh, I crouch beside her and extract the pieces she needs, handing them to her one at a time until she’s dressed. Just as she’s zipping her coat, Joanie starts to sit up with Nate’s help. He watches her like a hawk as she settles into a seated position.

“Doing okay?” he asks.

“I mean, not really. I feel like I got hit by a truck,” she mumbles and glances down at herself. “What the fuck am I wearing?”

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