Page 74 of Headstrong Like Us
15
FARROW KEENE
Ripley has been fed,burped, changed, and he’s caught blissful hours of sleep. I even took his temperature, looked into his ears with my otoscope, and bought and read shiny new books on pediatrics.
I know my shit but being updated doesn’t hurt.
Logic says there’s no reason he should still be wailing like the sun is dropping out of the motherfucking sky. But babies don’t exactly adhere to logic.
And this kid has been put through who-the-fuck-knows-what the past four months of his life. The counselor said he’s going to take time to adjust. So the fact that he’s treating everyone but Maximoff like they have leprosy, I’m not taking to heart.
In the Hale’s living room, Ripley bursts into a sob, cradled in my arms. I bounce him softly and pat his bottom. He calms a fraction (barely), and then I secure him in a dark gray sling against my chest. Maximoff showed me once how to do it, and that’s really all I need.
“You don’t have to act so repulsed by me, you know,” I whisper to the little man. “You’re giving wolf scout way too much ammunition.”
Ripley cries harder. Big, glassy crystal-blue eyes fill with tears. With the edge of my shirt, I dry the wet tracks off his chubby cheeks.
Last time he was in Maximoff’s arms, he was giggling and smiling this goofy baby smile. It was cute as hell.
Not going to lie though, it sucks watching him sob and not being able to soothe him. I’m a doctor. Healing is kind of my thing. His tears almost entice me to pass him off to Maximoff.
But I don’t give up that easily.
Bright lights shine against curtains, and I pass the sofa and pry the fabric aside with two fingers.Security vehicle.The SUV rolls slowly up the driveway.
My radio is on, much to Thatcher Moretti’spleasure.I haven’t gone rogue in a while, and I’ve been more inclined to tune into comms lately.
My gut gnaws at me to stay alert, so I can protect the Hales.
I heard from comms and from Maximoff that Kinney went to see a movie after school. Most likely, her bodyguard is dropping her off right now.
See, all the Hales usually have family dinner every night, and they’re supposed to be home by 6:30 p.m. or else Lo blows up their phone with calls and texts.
Mostly to annoy the hell out of them.
But tonight is a little bit different. The smell of meatloaf permeates around the house. Maximoff has been cooking for the past couple of hours, wanting this to be memorable.
Meatloaf is one of Luna, Xander, and Kinney’s favorite meals.
I swerve towards the staircase. Feet pad down the steps. Donnelly emerges, prying out his earpiece and slinging a backpack on his shoulder. His shift on Xander’s detail just ended.
Even with Donnelly at the Hale house most days, we don’t hang out unless Xander and Maximoff are together. He’s on-duty, and protecting the famous ones is why we’re in this field.
Donnelly nods to me on his way to the door. Barely glancing at the baby attached to my chest. “See ya.”
“Hey, wait up.” I follow his stride.
He stops in the foyer, septum piercing in and tattoo sleeve visible, wearing a ripped Duran Duran muscle tee. His gaze descends to Ripley. “Does the little dude have an off switch?”
“He’s a baby, not an electrical appliance.”
“Looks the same to me.”
My lip wants to rise, but Donnelly squints at the ground, then the wall. “Been meaning to tell you somethin’…”
“Yeah, me too.” While Ripley sobs, I dip my head to him and whisper a deep, calming, “Shhh,” and his cries soften a little bit. To Donnelly, I say, “You first.”
He steals a furtive glance at the living room. Like he’s checking for any famous ones eavesdropping.
