“Are we racing?” Keane suddenly asked.
Finn leaned back so he could see out Shay’s window. “Max is driving. So . . . yes. You’re racing. You better slow down,” he ordered. “Let her go a—”
“Shit!” Keane abruptly slammed on the brakes; Shay was thrown against the front seats. It was a necessary move, though. A truck came from around the corner, going in the opposite direction, and all Max did was speed up while heading straight for it. Tock still occupied the hood of the SUV.
The SUV cut into their lane just before the truck could obliterate them, the driver blasting his horn and yelling.
Tock briefly paused once more—this time so she could raise her arm high and give the truck driver the finger—before she continued making her way across the hood.
She finally reached the windshield.
Shay couldn’t see her for a few seconds; then he spotted her clinging to the side of the vehicle and finally crawling into the now-open passenger side window.
The window closed and Max hit the gas; the group disappeared around the next bend.
The brothers were silent for a bit as they drove on, all three staring out the front window.
Then Keane finally said, “I am so glad you risked your life saving that one. She so clearly needs to be saved.”
Shay could only shrug. “At the time . . . it seemed like a solid idea.”
“Yeah. And I’m sure it had nothing to do with that ass.”
“Well . . .” Shay began, but what was the point of fighting the truth? “Yeah. It was definitely that ass.”
*
Tock changed into fresh clothes in one of the private airport’s bathrooms and stepped out of the stall. Mads had brought her overnight bag from Detroit, which was great. Tock had no desire to travel in a hospital gown all the way back to New York. She didn’t want anyone assuming she was an escaped mental patient because there was nothing Max would love more than leaning into that joke until all of them were racing away from law enforcement and emergency services.
Exiting the bathroom, she stopped to look around. Saw nothing out of the ordinary and rechecked every means of escape from this airport should it become necessary. She didn’t do this because she was suddenly feeling paranoid. Her grandmother had begun the drill when she took her to the mall at five years old. “Always know in and out, my little one,” she’d say. “In case you need to make a run for it.”
Satisfied, Tock walked over to the chairs and tossed her bag by those—where did he get sneakers that size?—big feet before dropping into the seat next to Shay. She let out a sigh and started scrolling through her phone. She was annoyed. She’d had stuff planned for the last few hours. A nice, neat schedule, but it had been shot to hell because of all this unnecessary drama.
“Do you not see me glaring at you?”
Tock looked away from the schedule app on her phone that she’d built herself because most schedule apps didn’t give her what she needed, and found herself staring into the glaring face of a big cat.
“Don’t you always look like that?” she asked after a moment.
“No.” He pointed at another set of attached seats where two of her teammates were hanging out. “He always looks like that.”
She hadn’t even noticed Keane sitting next to Max. He was also glaring but not at Tock or Max or Streep, both of whom sat close to him. He was just glaring in general, his gaze locked on a blank wall. He was so focused on that wall, he didn’t even notice or acknowledge a group of loud rich guys walking in, talking about the private jet they were about to take to Cancun. What entertained Tock, though, was watching those loud, annoying men spot Keane and, despite his having no interest in them at all, purposely stop, stare at him for a few seconds, and then walk in a big circle around their group. They ended up sitting on the opposite side of the airport, with Keane’s back to them.
Once those full-human men sat down and she felt certain that Max wouldn’t start a fight with them because she was bored waiting for Nelle’s family jet to be fueled, Tock went back to her phone. She moved a few things around in her app, added a few things on the to-do list app she’d also made herself, and slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
As she relaxed in her chair, she realized the cat was still glaring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“I didn’t think we were done talking.”
“We’re not?”
He threw up his hands and angrily turned away from her.
She thought that was the end of it but as soon as she relaxed again, he turned to face her once more and asked, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
She had no clue what he was talking about, which was why she replied, “What?”
“Walking on the car while it was being driven by Max . . . ? That seemed like a good idea to you after almost dying last night?”
“Although, according to you, I didn’t almost die. I did suffer, though. You know, I really don’t remember much of anything from last night, but I do remember my cousins just wouldn’t shut up, and I just wanted to choke them until they all stopped talking.”
When the cat didn’t reply, Tock looked down and saw that her hands were mimicking strangling someone. And her teeth were so tightly clenched, she was sure she must have growled out that last part of her thought.
She lowered her hands, unclenched her jaw, and looked up at Shay.
“I hid under the SUV until we were on the road and then I crawled out. That way I didn’t have to see my family. It was a weak and pathetic move, but I did it because I hate having debates that never end. And when you fight with my family, there’s never an end. They love to argue. About everything.”
Shay studied her a moment. “Okay,” he said. “I get that.” He stopped glaring and rested his forearms on his big thighs. “But why didn’t Max pull over once you guys were away from the hospital, so you could get out from under the car without risking your life?” When Tock didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many times have you fallen off a moving car?”
“I have no idea.”
“But should you really risk your life like that? Climbing over cars while they’re moving?”
Done with the conversation, Tock didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “Thanks for helping me yesterday. I appreciate that.”
Shay snorted and asked, “Since when?” He shook his head. “You just want to change the subject.”
“I really do. And I thought feeding your ego would help with that.”
“It doesn’t. But if you want to risk your life jumping around on moving cars driven by Max MacKilligan of all people . . . be my guest.”
Tock studied him for a moment before announcing, “That’s right. You’re a dad.”
“What? I mean . . . I am. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“You just really have the guilt thing down. It’s impressive.”
“Learned it from my mom,” he admitted. “Once me, Finn, and Keane hit puberty, it was the only thing she had in her arsenal to control us besides disembowelment.”
“My parents have been using guilt on me since birth. My mom is especially adept at it.” Not wanting to think too much about whether her parents might hear of this latest situation—and the guilt that would ensue—she asked, “Daughter or son?”