“Sounds like the children have gotten bored,” I muse.
“Or it’s the stress of waiting for the boogeymen to get released from jail,” she parries.
“You think this all centers around the Dragons?” I inquire, wanting her to expand on that thought.
“That and helping restore and resurrect the Montana chapter. Indiana says that Riptide and Slayer are having a hard time trying to figure out who they can afford to send up that way,”she informs me, telling me something I was somewhat aware of. “We can’t afford to lose too many since doomsday is around the corner. Yet at the same time, Montana is in a desperate condition and they need help.”
“Why do you refer to it as doomsday?” I ask, for some reason getting stuck on that part of her statement.
She sighs before answering, “Because it’s my past and present coming face-to-face and colliding. It feels like there’s going to be some sort of sonic boom when things come to a head.”
Nodding my head, I say, “I can understand that reasoning. But you know this doesn’t all fall on your shoulders, right? This impending war isn’t solely about you.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t have gotten as brutal and bloody as it has if it hadn’t been for me,” she rebuts.
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” I refute. “I think it was only a matter of time before they eventually came to blows. The Onyx Dragons are thugs with a gang-like mentality. They want to be the big men on the totem pole, standing tall before everyone as the rest of us bend a knee to them. They’re like every known bully around the nation.” Lifting up my fingers I count down each point I make. “Pathetic, weak minded, and cowards.”
Zoey looks at me with wide eyes before she bursts into laughter. “That describes every boy I went to school with.”
“That’s because their cognitive thinking skills hadn’t developed yet,” I say, joining in on her chuckling. Once we’ve settled, we begin sharing stories of the idiotic things the boys we knew growing up in school did. I hope my little guy has more common sense than they did because I’mnotlooking forward to daily phone calls from his principal if not.
Sitting around the dinner table with Rush and my son, I keep my eyes attuned to my old man. Rush is feeding Gage Jr. but his eyes have stayed averted from me which has my brows pinching together in confusion. He’s never held back from me and kept me at an arm’s length.
Not able to take the silence and avoidance any longer, I call out his name. “Rush?”
He clears his throat and answers, “Yeah, baby.”
“What’s going on with you? You aren’t acting like yourself,” I press, not wanting him to keep what’s bothering him buried inside.
“I’m not feeling like myself,” he admits. “I’m ashamed of something that took place earlier today between Icer, Elodie, and me.”
“Wanna talk about it?” I inquire. “I’m all ears if you do.”
“I flew off the handle when she got sassy with me and playfully hinted that she is a bad influence on our little guy and suggested we find him new play buddies,” he tells me, grumbling.
“I bet that didn’t go over well,” I comment. “They’re like the Three Amigos. Where there’s one, you’ll find the other two. They’re thick as thieves.”
He gloomily cackles, informing me, “Icer put me in time out. Elodie told me I was mean.”
“How long are you grounded for?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
Poutingly, he mumbles, “Don’t know, Van, he didn’t say.”
“You know he’s your business partner, right?” I ask, questioning him on something I know he’s well-aware of, but there’s a point I’m going to make once he acknowledges it.
“Yeah,” he says, turning and looking over at me. “What are you trying to get at with that?”
A sense of glee strums through me as I gear up to remind him of something I’m sure he hasn’t considered. “If you’re grounded, so to speak, then that means he has to step up and take care of the comings and goings of the mortuary. If I were you, I’d toss it at him and tell him that you’re taking your time out seriously so he needs to take your shifts.”
A smirk breaks out along his face as he reaches over, cups me around the back of my neck and draws me in, plastering a long, fiery kiss on my lip. “You’re a damn genius, Van.”
I shrug my shoulders and tell him, “Just saying, if I were in your position, I’d take advantage of it and give yourself some time away and decompress. Embrace your time out status and put some distance between yourself and the brothers.”
“Can’t do that, I’m the president.”
I counter his words, reminding him, “Who has a VP at his disposal, one who’s more than capable of running things for a few days in your absence.”
“Shit, it’s been years since I’ve taken any vacation days,” he drones.
