“Dad, did you—"
“Honey, can you grab me an apple?” Mom asked.
“Think fast,” Dad said as an apple whizzed past my vision.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the front door, though. The still-cracked door that Dad hadn’t slung shut yet. Maybe that was the sound that I was hearing. Maybe he simply wasn’t done mowing the lawn yet.
“Sweetie?” Mom asked. “What is it?”
I furrowed my brow. “Are you done mowing the lawn, Dad?”
He walked over and stood beside me. “Yeah, why?”
“Then, what is that sound outside?”
The three of us froze, listening to the soft putter of an engine whirring outside. Dad moved toward the door, his shoulders rolled back and his posture tight as he clutched his coffee mug in his palms. Mom took my hand, yanking me back down into my chair before she placed her hand on top of mine. Weighing me down, as if that would stop me from leaping out of my seat.
Could it be?
Was it possible?
Rum, rum-rum-rum-rum-rum-rum.
Dad peered through the crack he left in the door. “There’s someone outside on a motorcycle, I think.”
“What?” I asked as I shot back to my feet.
Rum, rum-rum-rum-rum-rum-rum.
“A motorcycle?” Mom asked. “Does anyone we know own a motorcycle?”
“Let me see,” I said, abandoning my coffee on the kitchen table.
I rushed toward my father, scooting off to the side as I ripped the front window curtains away from the paned glass. My hands pressed flush with the cool surface with that sound dancing against my eardrums. My eyes searched. My toes curled into the ground to keep me rooted. Every ounce of me wanted to believe it was them. One of them, or all of them, or maybe even Jax.
But there was nothing outside but that fucking sound.
“Where is the motorcycle?” I asked.
I felt Mom standing behind me before she placed her hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know, I think that’s just what it sounds like.”
“Could be nothing,” Dad muttered.
“I need another angle,” I said as I pushed away from the window.
“Princess, what’s going on?” Dad asked.
I rushed over to the other front window that framed the door. “The guys that saved me rode motorcycles, you guys. So, just give me a second.”
My parents were hot on my heels as I abandoned my post and slipped out onto the front porch. Their footsteps damn near matched mine as the sound ricocheted around inside of my head. I knew I wasn’t dreaming of it. I knew that I wasn’t just hearing things. They heard it, which meant that it was real.
And as I walked out into the driveway, I turned in every direction, searching for the source of the sound.
Then, finally, out of the corner of my eye, there was movement.
“Who is that?” I whispered to myself, whipping toward the moving shadow.
HONK HOOOOONK!
