Page 119 of Don't Call Me Daddy
“Oh, and please don’t do anything that could get us sued. This is a family-friendly event after all. We don’t need Leo’s first task as CEO to be damage control,” I say as I take off toward Luka, following him to the alley where he parked his bike.
He passes me a helmet, then puts on his own.
“Do you always keep a spare helmet?” I ask as I climb onto the small seat behind him.
He grabs my hands and tucks them around his waist. “You never know when you’ll meet a pretty girl who wants to be your backpack …”
He revs the bike up and takes off down the alleyway, swerving on side roads and in between rows of cars as I hold on for dear life.
This is amazing … and so convenient. MaybeIshould look into getting a motorcycle?
Leo would never go for it.
I find it interesting that my automatic thoughts involve Leo now, like he’s more than just a speed bump of fun along the way.
“Hold on,” Luka says as we pull onto the highway, and he swerves ahead of the line of cars.
So, I do. I hold on, hoping and praying Leo’s okay … because there’s something I really need to tell him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Leo
No. No. No.
I force myself back up the tight space, climbing the metal rungs of the ladder two by two despite the growing tightness in my chest and the increasing struggle to breathe.
When I finally reach the top, I pound as hard as I can, fist crashing into the metal that sends a reverberating vibration in my bones.
Maybe it’s just stuck?
I pound my fist against the heavy metal door again and again as I try to keep my balance on the flimsy ladder, but it’s no use; the door is rusted shut. It’ll take someone prying it from the outside to get this thing open.
My vision begins to blur as a fresh wave of panic sets in, and it takes all my concentration to climb back down the ladder. At least if I’m on the ground, I know I’ll be safe.
The thought of how long I’ll have to wait down here before they figure out I’m gone, before Ivy realizeswhereI’ve gone, has my stomach in knots.
What if I ruined the festival for her?
What if they don’t find me in time for me to tell her goodbye?
Would she still leave? Do I want her to? Of course, I don’t want her to leave, but I also don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t fulfill her sister’s list. It might seem silly, but she’s come alive from following the things on that list, and who am I to tell her to stop now?
The thought of causing her any more stress than she’s already dealing with is like a knife in a wound.
I shake the thought away. I can’t let myself go there. I can’t start spiraling because it will only make my anxiety worse, and I already have enough triggers to deal with right now. I take a slow inhale in my nose for seven seconds, hold it for seven more, breathe out for seven seconds, and repeat. I just focus on my breathing and nothing else, trying to ignore the rancid smell.
When I finally feel like I’m halfway calm, I pull out my phone one more time, desperately hoping that I’ll have reception.
No service available.
Shit, what am I going to do? WhatcanI do?
A flashback of me lying here with a bone sticking out of my thigh, screaming in agony and completely alone in the darkness, rips through me. I catch myself on the smooth, rock wall to keep from falling over as a sense of dizziness nearly knocks me over.
You’re going to be fine, Leo. You just need to find somewhere to sit down and wait this out. They will come for you.
I nod my head as if agreeing with someone other than myself. I begin to weave through the narrow pathway, trying not to panic when the space becomes so tight that I can hardly shuffle my feet. Jesus, were people that much smaller one hundred years ago?
