Page 81 of Dare You to Run
He buries his head in my neck and nips at my thin skin, growling and pretending to eat me like the big bad wolf he is. A knock bangs on the window and we both jump. I look up to see my Dad standing very close with a stern look on his face.
“Can he see in?” I ask him, because from the outside, the tint is a dark ebony and I assumed it was impossible to see in.
“If he looks close enough he can. Come on. Climb over and let’s get out. Better to face him now than draw it out.”
My insides shake and it pours out of my fingers and toes as I shakily move to exit on the passenger side of the car. When I emerge from the midnight black car, I find my Dad fuming with my Mom right behind him.
“Get in the house Dagen,” he rumbles through gritted teeth.
“Vaughan. Could I talk to you for a moment? Just to exp–”
“Mr. McCallan. And no, we cannot talk. You need to get back into your car and drive away and don't come back.” Dad’s eyes shoot lasers into Hendrix but the man doesn’t cower.
“Respectfully Mr. McCallan, that’s about as likely to happen as a heifer sprouting wings and floating over us.”
“Vaughan, honey. Why don’t we go inside and wait for Dagen.” Mom touches his arm and he flinches like she’s touched him with hot coals.
“Dad, can you please just listen for a minute before you start freaking out.”
“Dagen! Go inside.”
“Hey, don’t speak to her like that.” Hendrix takes a step in front of me, blocking me from Dad’s view.
“Hendrix, get away from my daughter before I call the cops.”
I place my hand on his back and he chortles. “Call the cops with what reason? Your daughter is twenty-one and with me of her own will. I’m not holding her captive, or forcing her to do something illegal. You can’t just call the cops because you don’t like me.”
I hear the anger building in my Dad’s chest with each breath he takes. I need to snuff out the sparks before this goes up in a ring of fire.
Taking Hendrix’s hand in mine, I tug on him and move to the other side of the car. “Hey,” I whisper, getting his attention. “Maybe you should just go. You need to get on the road anyhow. I’ll talk to him. Okay?”
His nostrils flare and his jaw clicks with anger. My hand touches his chest where his new tattoo is, and it instantly calms him. A large, warm hand covers mine and squeezes. The black in his eyes fades, making way for the blue to shine.
“Okay, little mouse. I don’t want to cause any more problems. I’ll call you in a couple hours.” I nod my head and he steps to the back of his car, opening his trunk and coming away with my bag.
Without a word, he walks up the sidewalk and sets the bag down by my front door, then strides right back to me. With his eyes lasered in on where they stands, Hendrix cups the back of my head and angles in towards me. His kiss is grueling andintense and I can hear my Dad’s knuckles crack as he balls them into fists.
Hendrix releases me from our kiss and taps my nose. “Take care of that tattoo.”
He walks around the car, watching my Dad who watches him, and slides into the driver's seat. The engine roars, shattering the uncomfortable silence around us, and he slowly pulls away from the curb, only to speed off in a cloud of dust when he’s far enough away.
I blow out a breath and ready myself for the blowback that’s about to come.
The three of us stand facing each other, Mom and Dad in the middle of the street and me on the sidewalk, no one making the first move. Dad’s eyes waver between wanting to cry and wanting to shoot fire. I feel a small pang of guilt, but he’s really blowing things out of hand when it really doesn’t need to be anything but understanding.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I finally say. “I’m going to continue seeing Hendrix. There isn’t anythingyou can do or say that will change my mind. I really want you to be understanding of the fact that as an adult, this is a decision that is only mine to make. If you can’t…I don’t really know what there is for us to discuss.”
The palms of my hands sweat and my heart pounds like a bass drum, vibrations pulsing from head to toe. He takes Mom’s hand in his, inhales and exhales with a deep purpose, then turns and walks to where their truck is parked. A truck that I should have noticed when we pulled up, but I was too lost in Hendrix to notice anything else, but him.
Mom looks over her shoulder at me with big tears in her eyes and I just want to run to her and pull her in my arms, but I have to stand on my own. I won’t back down to Dad’s demands and doing that would have me bending to his will.
I stand on the sidewalk, watching Dad help Mom into the passenger seat before moving to his side and driving away.
Nothing speaks louder than words unspoken. And those words cut like a knife.
THIRTY-TWO
It’s beentwo weeks since I saw Dagen last, and I feel like an addict whose high has faded and the itch is back. We talk daily –several times–but it’s not the same as seeing her face and tasting her skin. I need a fix and I need it soon.
