Page 13 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“Well, I’m glad y’all made it here safe. I would have picked you up, but we had an issue with one of our fowls.”
“It’s fine, Beau was oddly very pleasant.”
It was true. His energy was contagious, distracting even, so I wasn’t all that surprised when I felt Clarke’s eyes boring a hole directly into my side profile.
“Pleasant?” Greta repeated, her tone slightly perplexed. “Sure.” She giggled. “Anyway, y’all ready for the grand tour?”
Not especially, but we nodded anyway.
“Perfect, let’s go.”
4
GARTH
“You up yet, bug?” I knocked on Grace’s door for the third time this morning and once again, I received no response. It wasn’t unusual for my daughter to sleep past her alarm, but it was unusual to not hear any grumbled words of annoyance in return.
I rapped my knuckles against the wood one last time before leaning closer to the door.
What the hell was she doing in there?
Tempted to barge inside her room, I ultimately restrained myself knowing I’d have another argument on my hands if I did so. Now that she was twelve—the awkward phase between childhood and adolescence—I’d been trying my damned hardest to let her have some independence. But it wasn’t the easiest task when my daughter was practically a clone of myself when I was younger.
Headstrong, stubborn as a mule, and with a hint of a rebellious streak, she was a blend of each Calhoun. My brother Griffin, the silent grump, and my sister Greta, the free spirit of the family. She had traits from all three of us, making Grace an entire breed of her own.
Lord, help us all.
With my patience runnin’ thin, I pounded my fist more firmly onto her door. “Grace, I know I said I wouldn’t come into your room without permission, but I’m about five seconds away from breakin’ that rule.” My tone straddled the line of flying off the handle, but I reeled it in as much as I humanly could.
Was she purposefully ignoring me? I didn’t see a reason as to why she would, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t upset about something. Half the time, I had no fuckin’ clue what I did. And being the willful girl she is, I’d have to figure out myself exactly why I was suddenly blacklisted.
This time, before I confronted her, I backtrack the last couple days in hopes of finding anything useful. As I rummaged through each clear memory, I found myself stumped. If anything, I thought we were having a good week.
Feeling even further confused, I was moments away from swinging her door open, when the sound of the bathroom door unlocking seized my movements. In a daze and completely unaware of what was going on, Grace stepped out into the hall, mumbling the lyrics to a song I didn’t know. Her voice was slightly groggy and raspy from just waking up while her hair resembled a nest.
Still fuckin’ adorable like always.
Relieved, I felt like I could breathe normally again.
I swear, my daughter is going to send me into an early grave.
Her gaze lifted, noticing my still rigid form standing just outside her bedroom door. A tiny smile lifted on her face, but it quickly fell as she let out a yawn.
“You all right, bug?” I asked, still a bit unsettled and needing some reassurance.
Her dark, wispy bangs fell over her brows, reminding me that I needed to take her to get a trim soon.
“Yeah, why?” She looked at me funny, like I was asking her the most ridiculous question there was.
She stopped a few feet short from where I stood, her arms crossing over her chest.
“Not used to you getting up from your alarm.”
Rolling her eyes, I couldn’t stop a grin from replacing my steely expression.
“Dad, I always wake up from my alarm,” she scoffed. “I just sometimes choose not to get out of bed right away.”
I should have caught on to that sooner. I used to play the same trick with my parents too.
