“You didn’t accept who he was before he found Chaos,” I kept at Simon, ignoring Blair. “You definitely didn’t accept him after he found Chaos, you disinheriting him clear indication of that. You didn’t accept him or me when we found each other. You continued not to accept either of us or our boys when we had them. And you didn’t step in when my babies and I lost him. So your legacy of loss is not on Graham, Simon. It’s on,” I leaned his way, “you.”
“All right, you guys,” Dutch said, and I heard him moving around the table. “Jag and me’ll walk you out to your cars and we’ll make a time to talk about this later.”
“I’m not talkin’ about dick later,” Jag bit out.
“Jagger, sweetie—” my mom started.
Sweetie?
Sweetie?
For some reason it was that that made me see red.
Because when had she earned the right to call my son sweetie?
Was it when she made him cookies?
No, because she’d never made him cookies.
Was it when he was being adorable after getting a birthday or Christmas present he especially wanted?
No, because she’d not been with him for a single birthday or Christmas.
Was it when she blew on scrapes on his elbows and knees the many times he’d gotten them?
No, because she was never around when he got into scrapes.
Not even when he suffered the worst scrape of all, when his father was scraped out of his life.
“Shut your mouth,” I clipped, and she reared back like I came at her physically. “And get out of my house.”
“You want us out, but these guys,” Sarah sneered, indicating Hound and Tad, “are welcome. Right? Are they ones that got my brother’s,” she leaned toward me, her face twisted, “throat slit, Keely? They can sit at your table but we can’t be in your home?”
“Jag, Dutch, deal with this,” Hound ordered, and I could tell he was barely reining it in. “Now.”
“Come on, guys,” Dutch tried gently. “Let’s get you outside.”
I ignored all this.
“Yes,” I said to Sarah. “Absolutely. Although Tad is Beverly’s fiancé and sells insurance, Hound is Chaos and yes. He’s welcome at my table. Because he earned his place there by being here,” I pointed to the floor, “for me and my boys. You, on the other hand, didn’t even meet them until Dutch had hit double digits.”
I knew I hit true with the look in her eyes but still Sarah curled her lip and opened her mouth to speak, but I got there before her.
“If you speak one more word to me, Sarah, I swear to fuck I’ll scratch your goddamned eyes out.”
Sarah gave me a brave look but I could tell she thought I’d do it with the way she braced like she was about to run.
“I cannot believe I’m hearing my own daughter speak this way,” my mother whispered in horror.
“You can’t?” I asked her. “So, when did you earn my respect, Mom? When did any of you earn my respect?”
I indicated them with an out-flung arm but ended it jabbing a pointed finger her way and kept speaking.
“But we’ll start, specifically, with you. Was it when you came to me on my wedding day to tell me my father was thinking of never speaking to me again and you’d be forced to do the same if that was his decision if I married the man I loved, who I then gave babies? Or was it when you both carried out that decision? Or wait. Was it when you came to me in my sorrow and grief after we all lost him and held me and told me this was terrible, it was awful, you wished I wasn’t experiencing the crippling depths of pain I was experiencing but you were there for me? Or was it when you were actually there for me, my sons, helping me to find reasons to get out of bed every day and make sure they were bathed and fed and got the Halloween costumes sorted that they wanted? No? Those last things weren’t you?” I asked sarcastically. “You’re right. They weren’t. You were nowhere near me and my boys.”
Before my mother could reply, I turned eyes to Simon and Blair.
“And you,” I hissed. “He was your boy. And you didn’t even show at his wedding. You also didn’t show at his goddamned funeral. And you think you have any right to be standing in the home he provided for me and our sons?”
“I do,” Simon returned arrogantly. “Because your sons have my blood in them.”
“Their blood runs Chaos,” I snapped. “If I did one thing right by my boys, if I did one thing right by my husband, I made it so they were raised with all the love and loyalty and goodness and light that their father gave them, that their father wanted to keep hold on, and by God, I did just that. What they did not get is they are not pompous, critical, holier-than-thou assholes like you.”
“We’re not getting any younger, Keely. Those boys are in line for trust funds and if you allow this to carry on with this gang,” Simon fired back, “we’ll be forced to do what we did with Graham and make different arrangements.”
“Do it.”
I went solid at Dutch’s voice.
Obviously, when the time came that my family and Black’s had wanted to re-enter my sons’ lives, I’d put them off until my boys were old enough to make the decision (at ten and eight, precisely), and I left it up to them.
As for me, they made no effort to make amends with me, but it wouldn’t matter. These people had killed anything that was left that they had from me when they’d let all of us deal with our loss on our own. And I had never been a shrinking violet (one of my problems, according to my mother), so I made that known.
But I felt it was my sons’ decision, so I let them make it.
Both of them had wanted that piece of me and that piece of their father.
They still held distant. It wasn’t like they didn’t get it, how all of these people had let us swing.
But they’d let them in.
Dutch more than Jagger because he had that kind of heart. He had that part of his father. He tried to learn everyone’s perspective, and even if he didn’t understand it, he did his best to accept it.
Jag was like me.
He could hold a mean grudge.
But he’d followed his brother. I just got the sense he never fully committed to it.
As ever with my boys, I was not wrong about Jag.
And as ever with these people, right that moment with Dutch, they were letting sheer beauty slip right through their fingers.
“Do you think we want your money?” Dutch asked.
“Son—” my father started.
“I’m not your son,” Dutch returned harshly, coming to stand at my side but partially in front of me. “I’m a man called Black’s son, and I’m a man called Hound’s son. I’m a son of Chaos. And it’s obvious that you people didn’t learn anything the first time around. So we’ll just cut our losses here so everyone can get on with their lives, but mostly so you don’t drag Ma through your crap again.”
“You don’t understand, honey,” Tierney tried. “Your father was—”
“My father loved my mother and he loved me and he loved my brother and he loved his Club and he woulda loved all of you,” Dutch jabbed a finger angrily toward them, “if you’d have let him.”
“We’re your family, we were his family, and—” Blair started.
“Has it occurred to you, Grandma, maybe why Dad went lookin’ for another family?”
Excellent point.
She appeared struck and not in a good way.
Hmm, at least it seemed Blair got his point.
Dutch wasn’t done.
“Do you think that hasn’t occurred to me? To Jag? Do you think after all this time we don’t know who our family is? Do you think, even at fuckin’ five,” he bit out that last, cursing in front of his grandparents, which shocked even me, “I didn’t know you left her swingin’ in the breeze when her life crashed down around her? With that and all the nothing that you gave her that came after, did you honestly think you could walk in here and we’d let you get up in her face? If you did, I have one question for
you. What in the hell is the matter with you?”
“Dutch, do not talk to your grandmother that way,” Simon ground out.
“And Simon, get the fuck outta my house,” Dutch returned.
They all, every one of them, reared back.
Personally, I wanted to start clapping.
Jag came up on my other side, partially in front of me.
“You heard him,” Jag bit. “And just for the record, I don’t give a fuck about your money either. And I was over your bullshit judgment ages ago. It was just that Dutch thought I should give you a shot. You had it. You took it. You blew it. Now you can get the fuck out, but before that . . .” he turned his attention to Tierney, “my mother is not messed up. She married a man she loved because she knew her own heart and she had the strength of will to face losing everything she’d known all her life to follow it. And then she lost him. She still gave us her, a nice home, got her goddamn masters, and when Dad’s Club made it so she wouldn’t have to work even a day in her life, she still showed us the importance of making your own way. So newsflash, Tierney, your definition of messed up is messed up. You wanna see it straight, look at your sister. You wanna see a mess, look in the goddamned mirror.”
Tierney’s eyes got huge and hurt.
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t smile.
“We—” my father began.
“I have absolutely no clue what’s going on,” Tad broke in at this juncture with his smooth, beautiful voice. “But from what I’ve heard, it boggles the mind you folks can stand in this lovely home your daughter created and look at this strong family she made against what sounds like pretty extreme adversity, some of that being you, and not feel anything but pride. However, since you can’t, I will give you this one warning that you need to take this immediate opportunity to leave or I will personally be seeing each of you to the door. And if I have to put my hands on you, I don’t care which gender you are, I’ll do it.”
Okay.
Official.
I loved Beverly’s new man.
My mother made a move toward me.
And suddenly, Tad was right there in front of me.
Dutch moved forward to stand beside him.
Jag went to his other side.
But Hound walked determinedly across the room, so determinedly, Sarah and Blair had to jump out of his way, and he disappeared in my foyer.
I heard the front door open.
“I’ll allow you to stretch the definition of immediate to now,” Tad rumbled.
Hound appeared in the opening to the foyer. “The door is open. Best be using it before things get any uglier.”
With looks through Tad and the boys at me, all of them started moving.
Hound stared them down as they passed him, so as best they could in the narrow space he gave them, they gave him a wide berth.
Tad followed them.
Dutch and Jagger followed Tad.
“You boys stay with your mother,” Hound ordered.
My sons stopped moving.
Hound and Tad disappeared.
Beverly tagged behind and I lost sight of her in the foyer.
“Get back to your girl, baby,” I heard Tad say softly.
Beverly reappeared.
She went direct to Jagger and put her arms around him.
This was probably because I was approaching Dutch, and when I made it to my boy, I slid my arms around him, my front pressed to his long, lean side.
His arm curled around my shoulders.
It took some time and that time included us hearing car doors slamming, vehicles starting and pulling out through the still-open front door.
But once those sounds ended, Hound and Tad came back.
Hound barely hit the room before his beautiful blue eyes moved between my sons and he declared gruffly, “I’ve never been prouder in my life of you two boys than I am right now.”
It was then I knew why he didn’t barrel in to take the situation in hand.
He was waiting for Dutch and Jag to do it.
Because he knew they would do it.
Shit, I was going to cry.
Hound turned to Tad. “And know you don’t need it, but serious as fuck, bud, you got my blessing.”
Beverly made a crying, laughing noise and Jag, holding on to her like Dutch was holding on to me, wound his other arm around her when the crying part won over.
Tad gave Hound a nod and then moved to claim his woman from my son’s arms.
Hound didn’t move.
But his gaze was locked on me.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded shakily.
He looked to Dutch. “You got her?”
“Yeah, Hound,” Dutch answered.
And he did.
My oldest boy did.
He always had.
I held him harder.
“Fuck,” Hound whispered.
Then he came at us and he rounded us both in his arms.
Tight.
Jag pushed in and we became a huddle.
Beverly shuffled Tad over and we made room for them and it was Tad who was adopted into the Black/Ironside clan.
Through the wide chests of four men, Bev caught my eyes.
“I really need tequila,” she whispered.
“Probably the second most precious thing I’ve heard you say, sweetheart, after ‘yes’ when I asked you to marry me,” Tad joked.
I started laughing.
Jag started laughing with me.
Dutch joined in and then Bev and Tad did too.
Hound did not laugh.
He was looking at me telling me he loved me and he was proud of our boys.
I looked back at him telling him the same thing.
Then I broke out of our huddle to go get the tequila.
Weird
Keely
Through the mirror, as I was brushing my teeth the next morning, I watched Hound skirt my tub in the middle of the room on his way to me where I was at the sink.
It was the first day we’d woken up in my house where we didn’t wake up and then fuck, if not immediately, almost immediately.
This was because both my boys found reasons after the drama to spend the night.
Hound had no problem with this and I knew it wasn’t because he thought that they didn’t think Hound had this, taking care of me after a big, emotional drama.
It was habit, my boys taking care of me.
And Hound was totally down with that.
“Christ, woman, I got no fuckin’ clue how you don’t get a headache standin’ in this room for more than two minutes,” he muttered, reaching in front of me to get his toothbrush.
I grinned in the mirror and kept brushing.
“You got more shit on the walls in this one room than I got in my entire house,” he gave me crap.
I spit, rinsed, and with water dripping down my chin, I replied, “It’s awesome,” before I grabbed a towel and wiped my face.
“The floor alone makes Willy Wonka’s interior designer look sane,” he returned.
I tossed the towel by the sink and started giggling.
As I did this I noticed that Hound looked slightly amused but mostly intent.
So I quit doing it, leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his bare waist (Hound was not one for clothes if he could get away with being naked, and in my bathroom first thing in the morning, or any time he felt like it, he totally could do that).
“I’m okay,” I shared.
It felt like he was examining me before he found what he was looking for and said, “I’m not. I think I pulled somethin’, not landin’ a fist in Black’s dad’s face.”
I pressed my lips together.
“And his sister’s,” he went on.
I pressed them together harder.
“And your sister’s,” he kept going.
“They’re gone,” I reminded him.
“They’re a bunch of motherfucking twats. They were that years ago. They haven’t
changed a stitch. I know the boys talk to them but they never shared if that got tight or not. Seemed not last night. But, babe, they gonna feel this?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know but I don’t think so.” I gave his waist a squeeze as well as a shake. “What I do think is that this was gonna happen. I should have thought about it and prepared them for it once they started up officially with Chaos. But they’ve been so far out of my life for so long, I didn’t give them that first thought.”
“We’ll keep an eye,” he muttered then said in his normal voice, “You gonna keep your tits pressed to me while I brush my teeth or what?”
“Would you have a complaint if I said I was?” I asked.
“No, but I’d tell you to lose the robe so I could get the full benefit of that if you do,” he retorted.
I started giggling again.
He bent and gave me a kiss that included a thrust of the tongue.
Call me crazy, but after beer and tequila and a night’s sleep, Hound still tasted awesome in the morning.
When he was done, I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Did you know Boz has a giganto dick?”
Hound immediately went from looking morning-just-tasted-my-woman content to looking sick.
He also did not answer.
So I kept talking.
“Apparently, Tad is well endowed too. It’s just that Boz is seriously well endowed so Bev didn’t have the right measuring stick for comparison, as it were.”
“Do we need to talk about this?” Hound asked.
“It’s not like you’re not lookin’ good down there too, baby,” I assured him. “Though you’re a winner in terms of formation and girth.”
“Seriously,” he growled, “can we stop talking about this?”
And again, I was giggling, but through it I said, “Sure.”
“Obliged,” he grunted and reached for the toothpaste.
I moved out of his way so he could brush his teeth.
A little later, he moved into the shower so he could shower with me.
Fortunately, water drowned out a lot of noises.
So it was delayed, but our morning fuck was still awesome.
Hound slid a plate filled with a stack of buttermilk pancakes and rashers of bacon in front of Dutch, who immediately looked from Hound, to it, to me, as Hound moved back to the stove.
Wild Like the Wind Page 31