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I looked over to see my little cousin laughing and chasing Levi and Dice around the water park, surprised she could still move with the constant laughter flowing from her. I would have probably been on the ground trying not to pee my pants by now.
I turned and headed for the truck.
Ham was already waiting patiently, leaning against the front of the monstrous machine. “You want me to drive?” Ham offered, not because he thought I couldn’t do it, but most likely seeing the way my eyes widened worriedly the closer I got to the vehicle and the bigger it seemed to grow.
I shook my head. “Nope. I’ll be fine.” Then proceeded to heave my body up into the driver’s seat which was almost like being back insixth grade and trying to climb the jungle gym in the playground.
The clubhouse was about forty minutes away. If I was going to make it through this, rules were needed. I pushed the keys into the ignition, but before I turned it over, I twisted my body to look at Ham. He was leaning back in the passenger’s seat, his hand pressed to his side and a few drops of sweat beading his brow. I could tell he was in pain, even if he’d spent the past two hours already trying to fight it and make like he wasn’t.
I was surprised Optimus allowed him to last this long.
“Have you taken any pain meds?”
He instantly sat a little straighter, like he was magically feeling better. “I’m okay. Let’s just get going.”
“You’re not okay.”
“Meyah…” It was a slow growl and a warning, but not one that I was going to put up with.
“Here’s the deal. I played your little game, and I won. Now you can play mine.” He wasn’t impressed. I didn’t care. “You take the pain meds I know you have on you, and you don’t talk the entire ride back to the clubhouse, and I won’t make a detour to the hospital to get them to check you out because I can tell you’re hurting.”
“I don’t need to go back to the hospital,” he protested, rolling his eyes and cringing as he tried to relax back into the seat.
I knew the cut wasn’t big, but it was obviously enough to be causing him a lot of discomfort. Probably due to the fact he wasn’t resting it like he should have been and was out throwing balls around and exerting himself.
“That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”
There were a few beats of silence where I thought he might object.
Instead, he nodded. “Fine.”
I let out a long breath of relieved air. Knowing I was going to be able to get him back to the clubhouse without an argument, or even a word that might set me off, I was thankful. I just wanted to survive the next forty minutes without crying, or fighting, or losing my shit.
All things I was sure were going to happen over this weekend, but I couldn’t handle right now while I was trying to maneuver this hulking machine. Before I put it in drive, I pulled out my cell phone and shot a quick text to Skins, who I knew was out doing a few things for the club and asked him to meet us at the clubhouse.
Then I allowed myself a silent smile in victory as I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
Ham held up his end of the deal and stared out the window the entire time, not even speaking to criticize my driving, which I had to admit at times was not so great. Going from driving Mom’s Mazda hatchback to a truck that rivaled King Kong was a huge difference, and suddenly, things like roads and lanes and other vehicles were so freaking small.
I pulled up outside the club, leaving the motor running.
He looked over at me. “Not even going to walk me inside like a true babysitter should?”
“I’m not your babysitter.”
He snorted. “Seemed that way when you leaped at the chance to send me home and get the hell away from me.”
I raised my eyebrow, fighting a growing smile. “Are you sulking? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were that excited about a child’s fifth birthday.”
His response was to throw the door of the truck open and leap down from the cab like a child throwing a tantrum. I couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up in my throat. Then he hit the ground, cursed loudly and groaned in pain. I immediately turned the engine off, threw the door open and climbed down. The second my feet hit the ground, I rushed around the side of the vehicle. He was leaning against the side, his hand pressed against his hip.
“You stubborn idiot,” I scolded, reaching out and pulling back his cut. There was a small stain of red on his white T-shirt beneath. I sighed, tugging on his arm. “Come on, I bet you’ve screwed up your stitches.”
He grumbled as he followed my lead toward the clubhouse door. It was strange feeling it so empty, the only person in the entire place was Neil who sat out by the front gate nearly falling asleep.
I managed to help him up the staircase and got him into his bedroom, moving at a snail’s pace, just as the roar of Skin’s motorcycle filled the air.
“Can you help me lift my shirt off?” he asked as he managed to slip his club cut off with only a slight cringe. The sulky attitude was gone. Now, he just seemed resigned. I felt like I was riding some kind of weird wave of Hamlet emotions.
