Reckless by Winter Renshaw Read Free Book Online Page A

watch her eyes go to him, and I pull in a hard breath, turning around to see who my knight in shining armor might be.
    My eyes lock on his first, and everything around me stops for a few endless seconds. Dark lashes frame amber-green irises, and his jawline stretches into a tight curve.
    “Maren,” he says. “I thought that was you.”
    My heart thunders, drowning out my thoughts, making me forget why I’m here.
    “Dante.” I say his name like we’ve met before, like we’re old friends. I didn’t see him up close that night, at least not this close, but I know it’s him. And I know his voice. I know how capable it is of giving me goosebumps and sending my body into a tightly wound, dog-in-heat frenzy with just a few dirty sentences.
    “Everything okay?” he asks.
    “My son . . .” I start to say. “He’s here. I’m just trying to find him.”
    Dante’s dark brows furrow as he glances past me, stare trained on the receptionist. “This woman needs to find her son. Is there a reason he’s not coming up in your system?”
    “I think she’s spelling his name wrong,” I mutter under my breath.
    He steps past me, reaching down to the woman’s desk and helping himself to a pen emblazoned with the hospital’s logo and a Post-It note covered in the Xanax logo, which is crazy because I could really use one right now.
    “Here,” he says, handing them to me. “Write his name down. I’ll wait here until she finds him in her system.”
    The receptionist tucks her poufy, gray-blonde hair behind her ears and yanks the paper from my hands when I’m finished. She types quicker this time, her expression softening a moment later.
    “He’s in room thirty-two,” she says.
    “There.” Dante smiles, and I feel the warmth of his palm on the small of my back. For a moment, I wonder how long it’s been there. Everything feels pretty surreal right now, and I’m struggling to exist at the moment.
    Sensory overload.
    “Th-hank you,” I sputter out, searching for the doors that will lead me out of the waiting area and closer to my son.
    Dante nods, hands hooked on his hips. Everything’s a bit of a blur, but in the slivered seconds that pass, I see he’s dressed in slim gray slacks with a skinny black belt and a white button down. He smiles a half-smile, his eyes holding steady on mine.
    I don’t have time to ask why he’s here or if he’s okay. I assume he’s okay. I mean, he looks okay.
    Dashing down the hall, I find myself standing outside room thirty-two a short while later, and I spot my oldest son’s familiar foot, bare, and sticking out from a white hospital blanket on a rolling hospital bed.
    “Oh, god,” I say, clutching my chest and rushing into the room. “Nathan, what happened?”
    Glancing at my son, he wears a solemn expression. His dark eyes move between his father’s and mine. He looks okay. He’s alive. He’s awake. Those are all good signs. I scan him from head to toe, stopping when I see a giant icepack on his left ankle.
    Oh, thank God.
    “Dash, care to tell your mother what happened tonight?” Nathan takes a stern tone with our son, but I know it’s all for show.
    Dash licks his lips, head cocked to the side and eyes filled with shame.
    “What happened, baby?” I ask, taking a seat on the side of his bed. I take his hands in mine, which are officially the same size as mine, if not slightly bigger. When did they get so big? I comb his dark waves from his face and lean in closer. “Tell me.”
    My son glances at his dad again and then back to me. “Beck was in my room. And he took my iPad. And so I kicked his door down. And then he chased me down the hall, and I jumped over the railing. I meant to land on the sofa, but I missed. Landed on my left foot instead.”
    Nathan chuckles. “Boys will be boys.”
    “And where were you during all of this?” I snip, turning to him and gifting him a glare.
    He lifts his palms flat in the air. “Jesus, Maren, they’re not