Page 100 of Dare You to Run
“Really?” I ask and he nods with a mix of shock and disbelief on his face.
“Well wouldn’t that be fantastic if you and your baby had the same birthday?” Dr. Molina smiles at us and turns off the fetal doppler. “I’ll give you a minute to clean up and then will meet you at the appointment desk. Congratulations.”
She walks out of the room, my eyes following her as she shuts the door behind her. My chin is tugged and my lips are instantly captured in a kiss. Hendrix’s mouth locks with mine and he holds my face as if he needs the touch to assure him this is real.
He rests his forehead against mine and we breathe each other, and the moment in. “I love you, little mouse,” he whispers and my eyes pop open.
My heart beats faster than the baby’s that we just heard, and my bottom lip begins to wobble.
“I love you too, Mr. Wolf.” It’s a hushed moment between the two of us that I hope my parents don’t hear.
Seeing as the room feels like a matchbox with all of us crammed in, I doubt that. But when I look over to the corner they stand in, I find it empty. I spin around to see if maybe they moved to stand behind me, but aside from Hendrix and I the room is empty.
“Where’d they go?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, but how about you get cleaned up and meet the doctor at the reception desk.” He kisses my forehead then wipes away the gel still smeared over my still flat belly.
“No sign of Mr. Wolf today.” I bite my lip, hiding a cheeky grin.
“Oh he’ll be along later. Be patient, little mouse.” He leans in and takes my lip from between my teeth and into his.
I know he’s itching to pierce my skin and taste me, but with my parents…somewhere, he refrains himself. When we walk out and find them standing near the wall, we see that they must have snuck out when we were lost in one another.
They both smile at us, and we walk to the check out desk, Hendrix holding my hand every step of the way.
“Hendrix. I’ll be fine,” I insist but continues to shake his head, arms crossed and standing in front of his bike.
After an adventure-filled weekend of sonograms and house hunting, Hendrix returned to Cattywump Bay alone and I stayed in Waco, crying and counting down the days until I’d be reunited with him again. I had already planned to go down for the weekend, so it was only a matter of four days until I saw him , but it was four days too long.
Now he’s refusing to take me for a ride on his bike, saying it’s dangerous for both the baby and I.
“No way, little mouse. You aren’t getting on a bike ever again. Four wheels only.”
“What? You’re smoking crack if you think I’ll just–” and then a brilliant idea pops into my head. “Fine. Four wheels it is. I want to drive Big Green.”
His beautiful green dodge sits bright and shiny right next to where we stand in his garage.
“Dagen,” he growls.
“Hendrix,” I mimic. “It’s either the bike or the car. What’s it going to be, Mr. Wolf?”
His nostrils flare and he rests his hands on his hips, looking incredibly annoyed that I’ve bested him.
“Dammit. Fine. Let me get the fucking keys.” I smile as he stomps towards where his keys hang, mumbling, “That woman.”
With a laugh, I catch the keys when he tosses them to me and he smacks the button for the garage doors. The motor whirs and it opens slowly, revealing the warm spring day.
“Is it too much to ask you to take off your shoes and wear driving gloves?” He stands on the passenger side, a painful look on his face.
“Yes. Too much, Hendrix. Get in.” He sighs and slides in while I gently sit and rub my hands together with a squeal.
I stick in the key and turn it, bringing the engine to life with a sweet, glorious purr. I adjust my mirrors, fasten my seatbelt and put the gear shift in reverse. Hendrix looks like he wants to jump out of his skin, so I decide to calm his fears and show him I’m a good driver.
I gently ease up on the brake and roll out of the garage. He clicks the button on the remote and we watch the garage door close. The tires are slow as I roll back and turn around once I reach the large driveway. I slowly shift into drive….then slam my foot down on the gas and haul ass onto the street.
“Fucking Christ, Dagen. Slow down,” he yells while holding onto the dashboard.
“Oh for the love. Chill out grandpa. I’m only going,” I take my eyes off the road for a moment to check the speedometer. “Fifty-five. You go like, one hundred on your bike.”
