Page 82 of Stowaway Whirlwind
“Yes,” Davis barks, making Colton jump in his ugly leather sandals. Colton backs up so fast that he knocks into an empty table. Davis follows, pinning Colton to the table through intimidation alone. His tone is menacing when he drops his voice and says, “And if you come near them again, I want you to think real hard about what happened to your piece of shit mother and what I did to the man who helped her.”
Colton swallows, the color draining from his face as he finally understands—he is nothing to us, and if he tries to pursue anything, he’ll meet an ugly end. “I won’t,” Colton whispers through bloodless lips, shifting his eyes as if he’s going to look to me for help again before thinking better of it.
Davis doesn’t back off, though, until Colton drops his eyes to the floor.Coward. Davis could never be so easily intimidated, especially where we—his family—are concerned.
Satisfied by Colton’s submission, Davis’s heavy bootsteps echo in the silent restaurant as he joins me, replacing Colton’s disgusting touch with his supportive one on my lower back, urging me out of the restaurant ahead of him.
If we were in the truck, I could slide into the middle of the bench seat and lean my head on Davis’s shoulder, but instead, we settle for tightly holding hands on the console until we get to our hotel, choosing the skip out on seeing the animated children’s movie we were going to watch after dinner.
Once inside our coffee and caramel-decorated suite, I put an unhappy Lily in her pink elephant-printed travel crib with a few toys and a cloth baby book, then start cramming our things back into our luggage. “I want to go home,” I tell Davis, collecting my toiletries from the bathroom vanity. “I’m sorry. I know we paid for two nights, but—”
Davis takes the toiletries from me, drops them on the bed, then turns me in his arms. He lays a long, sweet kiss on my lips. “Let’s go home.”
I sag against him. “Thank you.”
Davis takes over packing our luggage, and I change Lily into her jammies so she can sleep comfortably in her car seat. Within twenty minutes, Davis has everything stowed in the trunk of the Explorer, and we’re back on the road, having spent less thantwenty-four hours in Nevada, shedding the emotions and stink of the day with each passing mile, my smile growing wider.
Davis
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel and press down on the gas pedal, nosing the needle past the speed limit. “You ok over there?” I ask for what has to be the tenth time within the past hour.
Goldie hums out ayes, her lips rolled and pinched together, trying to concentrate on the pale yellow and white striped crochet blanket she’s making for the new baby. It’s her third attempt at a blanket after mastering the art of crocheting a scarf.
I spin the A/C dial to the highest setting and direct the air vents toward her. She’s got that sweaty look about her, and she keeps puffing out her reddening cheeks with her heavy exhales that she thinks I haven’t noticed.
“Shit.” I ease off the gas when I spot a cruiser up ahead, muttering a prayer that we won’t get pulled over. When the cruiser is out of view, I push the gas again. But then there’s another one up ahead. “Goddamnit.” It’s like that throughout these little towns. Almost as soon as we hit seventy-five miles per hour, we have to drop to fifty-five and below as we pass through these one-stoplight towns, and my frustration grows.
Goldie lays her hand on my forearm. “Slow down.” A quick flick from the corner of my eyes shows Goldie leaning on the console to watch the speedometer. Her face twists in pain, but as soon as she looks up and sees me studying her expression, she relaxes.
“You ok?”
“Yup. Peachy,” she answers.
“Rule number four.”We do not lie to each other.
Goldie sets her jaw, then finally admits, “They’re just Braxton Hicks contractions.”
“That’s what you said last time,” I point out, a wave of relief rolling through me when we finally cross our county’s line. Home is less than an hour away.
“It’s too early. I have at least another two weeks to go.”
“You also said that last time.”
“Davis, I promise I’m fine.”
I grumble under my breath aboutlyingandspankingsandstubborn redheaded women. When she thinks I’m not looking, Goldie sticks out her tongue but immediately clenches her jaw as she sucks in a harsh breath. I tap my fingers faster on the wheel.
Goldie points out the passenger window. “You missed our exit.”
“Yup,” I say in a clipped tone, keeping to the left lane on the interstate instead of taking the smaller state highway that leads home.Tap, tap, tap.
“Where are we going?” she asks nervously.
“To the hospital.”
“Davis.”
“Goldie,” I deadpan.
