Page 61 of Dare You to Run

I blink over and over, not really knowing what to say that doesn’t make me look like a childish teenager. I want to jump and scream and cling to him and never let him go. Instead of the insane woman that wants to break free, I tell him, “Okay.”

He reaches out, asking for my hand, and I give it to him. He pulls me to my feet, my chest crushing to his, and I circle his waist with my arms.

“What did mommy and daddy have to say?”

“My Dad told me to thank you for your kindness. I don’t think he’d be saying that if he knew the extent of your kindness.”

A small tick of his mouth sends flutters swirling in my belly. “Yeah, we better not tell him. Come on, little mouse. Let’s go.”

He kisses my nose and zips up my duffle bag, then throws it over his shoulder. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me from the room and I give one last look at the place that may have changed my life.

“You’re killing me with the music, little mouse.” Hendrix wears black wayfarers and drives oh so cool with his hand hanging on the steering wheel.

“You were the one that said you wanted to drive to make sure I didn’t ‘accidentally’ kiss anymore light posts. And I informed you that the navigator controls the music. Want a different song? Give me the keys.” He looks over at me, a crooked grin on his stupidly handsome face, and shakes his head no. “Fine. Then Lana it is.”

I set my phone in the cup holder and turn up the volume as Lana Del Rey croons about races and Bacardi chasers.

He sighs and asks, “How much longer until we’re at mommy and daddy’s house?”

I tap the map icon on the touchscreen and read off the estimated time of arrival. “Five thirty-six.”

“And what time is it?”

“One thirteen.”

His head falls back against the headrest. “Can you at least throw one song in for me every now and then?”

I clamber up on my knees and turn my body to face him. “Tell you what, Mr. Wolf. If you can tell me the name of my Mom, Dad, brother and sister, I’ll not only play whatever songs you want I’ll lean over the center console and help you relax a little.”

His jaw clenches and clicks and he grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. I watch him, waiting for the moment he gives up and I can go back to playing every song Lana has sung which will almost last the remainder of our drive.

“Vaughan, that’s easy,” he says and my eyes grow wide. “Your smoking hot mom is Camille.”

“Hey! Don’t look at my mama like that.” I smack his arm and he laughs.

“Sorry baby. I can’t help it. A blind man could see how beautiful she is.” I pinch his nipple and he barely flinches.

Masochist.

“Then you’ve got your little sis that has initials. A…AD. No. A.J. I can’t remember what it stands for.”

“Autumn Jade.”

“Right. Then the little man is Sloane, aka Sloaney Baloney. That name is unforgettable.”

“And why’s that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s just a cool name. At one point in my bleak existence I thought it would be a great name for a kid if I ever had one. But reality punched me in the face to remind me that would never happen.”

I tilt my head, studying his chiseled profile. “Please don’t say it’s because you’re too old. My Mom was in her thirties when shehad Sloane. And my Uncle Bishop was almost forty when he and his wife had their second kid.”

“Nah. I know I’m not too old. I just recognize the fact that I’m not father material.”

“Hendrix…that’s not true. I’m sure you’d make an amazing father.”

He shrugs and passes me a quick look. “I never had anyone to base what being a good father means. My foster dads were all pieces of shit and much like my mom, my dad never stuck around to be one.”

Guilt settles in my belly like a boulder. Guilt for being such a brat and causing my Dad to worry so much. Guilt for having a dad which is silly, but when you’ve been spoiled by the best one ever, you forget that so many people have never had the satisfaction of feeling so loved.