Page 68 of Dare You to Run
“We’re so happy you’re home, Day.” Aunt CeCe walks over, an apron over her sleek black skirt and plum colored blouse, and kisses my forehead. “You really had us worried.”
“I know. I’m really sorry about it all.” She gives me a small, warm smile and touches my cheek.
“Piccola bellezza.” Zio Luca approaches me with wide arms and I step into them. “You are okay, yes?”
“Yes, Zio. I’m fine.”
They may be crazy and loud and an absolute mess, but I wouldn’t want my family any other way.
I look over at Hendrix whose eyes beg me to rescue him and I wiggle out of Zio Luca’s arms.
“Alright. Y’all are scaring the poor guy. Give him some room to breathe.” I push on Dad’s and Uncle Bishop’s chest, standingbetween them and guarding Hendrix. “I would introduce you, but it appears you have already scared our guest.”
“Girl, you better not ever pull a stunt like that again.” Uncle Bishop pats my head with his giant paw, then kisses it.
“I know. I won’t. Sorry.” I pass him a half, apologetic grin and leave it at that.
“Welp. We better get the kids off to school. Get that food done so they can fill their bellies. Hendrix,” Dad says, turning to look at Hendrix. “You think about what I said. You’re more than welcome to stay and we’ll get you home whenever you’re ready. Sloane, Naveen, Cassie, Genie! Eat up,” he shouts, calling all the kids like he’s corralling cattle.
Mom quickly places scrambled cheesy eggs and toast on a plate and apologize to Sloane that the bacon isn’t ready. The other kids grab toast, having already eaten at home.
“Time to go,” Uncle Bishop calls, his hands cupped around his mouth.
“We’re just missing Mav and Burton,” Uncle Phoenix points out just as a bustle flies through the back door.
“They’re here. Sorry. Maverick insisted on wearing his boots with shorts today.” Aunt Cat walks in holding the hand of one boy dressed in shorts, sneakers and a t-shirt, and the other sporting basketball shorts, a collared polo and brown boots.
I snort at the vast difference between my twin cousins. It’s quite a riot to see them. Mav is definitely Uncle Hayes to a T. In looks and behavior. And speaking of Uncle Hayes.
“C’mon kids. The school train is ready to leave the station.” Uncle Hayes pulls off his cowboy hat that has an almost permanent place on his head. “Hey darlin’. We missed you.”
“Oh my god, you guys. I was literally gone for eleven days. Y’all are acting like I flew to the moon.” My hands raise high then drop back down to my sides, landing with a smack.
The kitchen grows silent with more than a dozen eyes staring at me. Everyone passes looks before erupting again.
“How are we getting all these monsters to school?”
“Hayes said he’ll hook up the horse trailer to his truck and throw them all in there.”
“We better take two vehicles. Vaughan and Luca, you two are with me. Nix and Hayes, you take the truck.” Uncle Bishop starts grabbing hands of kids.
The women kiss their kids and husbands goodbye, and the men hustle all the kids out the back door, backpacks on and lunch kits in hand. When the door clicks shut, the moms all breathe.
I look over at Hendrix, standing at the counter with a coffee mug in hand and looking shell shocked.
“Do you see what y’all did? You scared the shit out of Hendrix.” I glare at each one of them before walking over to him and asking if he’s okay.
“Yeah. I’m fine. That was just…a lot.” He scratches his forehead, probably trying to ward off a massive headache.
“We’re so sorry, Hendrix. I’d like to tell you this is a rare occasion, but this is our life. Day in and day out.” Just then, we hear the cries of a little girl followed by another. “Oh boy. And there is round two. I’ll go grab them.”
Mom scurries off to the upstairs playroom where AJ and little Farah are playing.
Anais works to get on her feet and Aunt CeCe tells her, “Ana. Please sit. You’re not going anywhere with that big ole belly of yours. Let Cami handle it.”
She lowers herself back down with a puff of air.
“So,” Aunt Viv interjects, still holding Sutton on her hip. “Tell us about yourself, Hendrix. How old are you? What do you do for a living? What’s your credit score? Any kids? Criminal record?”
