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Maybe Silver was right to keep me locked inside.
Chapter 3
Sterling
“What?” Max yells into the phone he just answered. “We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
When the girls decided to head to the salon to get pampered, the guys migrated to Max’s house where all the kids are playing while we watch a hockey game. In unison, four heads, Jace, Hamm, Torran, and I, snap to Max who has hung up.
“What’s going on?” I ask, knowing that it can’t be good.
“Call mom. We need to go to St. Paul,” Max says, standing. Hamm is already calling mom, so I press him further.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, louder this time. I can’t help but think of the worst possible scenarios and outcomes in the seconds it takes Max to answer me.
“Migan and Kennedy were almost hit by a car.”
“What the fuck?” I roar at practically the same time as Torran.
“They are at the hospital getting checked out. We gotta go now.”
In the back of Max’s truck, my mind races. I never should have let her go out. I frantically try to reach Kennedy, but it goes straight to voicemail. Torran is doing the same time to no avail. Up in the front seat, Jace is on the phone with Penny. I can only hear his side of the conversation and it does nothing to calm me down.
“Can’t you drive any fucking faster?” Torran growls impatiently. I get it, but it’s not going to get us there any faster. Weirdly, trying to get him to calm down, calms me. Not a lot, but enough that I am not going to have a heart attack.
Twenty minutes later, we are in the ER and both girls are fine. Thank God. Now that I know that she’s okay, I am pissed. Beyond pissed. I knew I should have tied her to the fucking house and never let her go. Instead of saying any of that, I kiss her and tell her how much I love her. Holding her in my arms reassures me that she and our babies are alright.
“You’re angry,” she says.
“We’ll discuss this at home,” I say, unsure of what I’d say unchecked. She nods and looks resolute but doesn’t say anything. I drive my truck back to Moosehead, with her beside me and Torran and Migan in the backseat. The trip is eerily silent. I pull up to their house and they get out.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Ken,” Migan says, taking her husband’s hand. He gives me a head nod but doesn’t say anything before turning to go into the house. I get it. Even I can tell he’s on the edge.
We continue on home. The kids are still at mom’s but somehow, she managed to get them all to take a nap all at the same time, so we are leaving them where they are for now. She invited everybody over for dinner in about three hours, so we’ll pick them up then.
We make it as far as the kitchen before she turns to me.
“Out with it. I can feel your anger radiating off of you.”
“Anger? Kennedy you were almost hit by a motherfucking car. Anger is the least amount of what I am feeling,” I shout, shaking. Rage is closer to the feeling coursing through me right now.
“I know. I never expected such a thing. There’s a chance, however small, that it was just a distracted teenage driver on their cell phone, and it had nothing to do with what happened at the store.”
“You don’t really believe that do you?” I ask, incredulously.
“No, but it’s another explanation.”
“I never should have let you go out,” I say and realize how misogynistic that sounds, but it’s the damn truth. I should have gone with my gut, not my head on this one.
“I know. I shouldn’t have wifed you into it,” she says sheepishly.
“Did you just use ‘wifed’ as a verb?” I ask, about to laugh.
“Yes.”
“You also agreed with me.”
“I know. It must be a full moon or something.” She gives me that megawatt smile that I love so fucking much.
“Your nails look pretty,” I tell her, noticing the neon green for the first time since I got to her.
“I was gonna get my hair done but then...” she trails off.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get someone to come out to the house.”
“Whoa, big spender.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I love you, Mr. Crawford.”
“I love you too,” I say, moving closer to her. “I think this dress would look better on the floor, what do you think?”
“I agree.”
“Wow, two for two. What’s the world coming to?”
“I really don’t know,” she says wrapping her arms around my neck.
My lips crash down on her upturned ones and I am lost. It never ceases to amaze me how anger can turn into arousal at the drop of a hat. Dragging my lips down her neck, I reach for the hem of her dress and pull it up. Moving back, I finish pulling her dress off of her and toss it somewhere. She’s not wearing a bra, so I kneel down and peel her panties off of her, tossing them too.
