Page 121 of Hunted, Season Three

The combination of his car themed room – which includes dressers that look like tool chests, corner shelves made of old tires, and a crib made to look like a sports vehicle – his race themed accessories – blankets, bottles, bags – and how much time he spends glued to Kid’s hip in the garage has me banking on him being over the top into it like his dad.

He already has an audible gift.

Little man cries whenever he’s around and a car with an engine problem pulls up to the garage.

Anything else?

Peaceful.

Happy.

Excited at the clanking of tools and instrumental music coming through the speakers.

Fucked up motor?

Wails like a dying howler monkey on cocaine.

Diesel – like the car dude who engineered it – Abbot – in honor of Rabbit’s dad – Nolan got Kid’s bright fucking blue eyes and black hair, yet my longer nose and big ass forehead.

Who he shares his actual DNA with doesn’t matter.

At least not right now.

All health issues for both sides are well documented and in our medical shit and if the day for diving deeper or testing ever comes up, of course we’ll fucking do it.

We’ll always do what’s best for him.

Him before us.

And regardless of who the fuck donated the load to make him, he’s stillbothof ours.

He’ll call usbothsome version of dad when he starts talking.

And Isocan wait for those days.

He already tries.

He already triesandhe’s just so mouthy.

Exactly like his mom.

Forfuckssakethere’s no reason I should be arguing as hard as do I with an infant about the right binky.

Quietly slipping into the room, I peer over the edge to see him sprawled out, light honey fists balled tight as if gripping a steering wheel.

Who fucking knows?

Maybe he is.

Maybe he’s already dreaming about driving.

Street racing.

Becoming the F1 racer Kid never did.

The same one he no longer desires to be.

I prepare to reach over and adjust his crooked onesie when I decide against it.

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