June serves seconds before anyone asks, fillin’ plates that never quite empty. She moves with the efficiency of someone who's fed an army, which I suppose she has.
"Speaking of the fair," June says, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "it's next weekend. All the kids have projects. Ethan's showing his woodwork, Leila's got her photography, and of course, the horses." She looks at Savannah, then me. "You two should come with us. Make a day of it."
Savannah turns to me, a question in her eyes. I shrug, knowin’ damn well that Savannah Ashby, who's spent her life in curated Instagram moments, would probably love a real county fair with its dirt, and sugar, and chaos.
"Sure," I say. "Sounds good."
Savannah's smile is worth whatever bullshit I'll have to endure. One of the Dun twins pipes up from the end of the table. "Do you really have demons inside you?" he asks me, eyes wide. "Cuz Dusty at the gate says you do."
"Michael!" June scolds, but I wave it off.
"Just the one," I tell the kid, keeping my face serious. "Keeps me warm in the winter."
The boy considers this, nodding like it makes perfect sense, and goes back to his corn. Across the table, Havoc's eyes meet mine—a silent warning that this is exactly the kind of talk that spreads.
I don't give a fuck. Let them believe what they want.
Sometimes a reputation keeps you safer than a gun.
"Dad's building a Camaro," one of the boys tells Savannah. "’69. It's in the outbuilding by the stables."
"Restoration project," Havoc explains, almost looking embarrassed. "Something to keep my hands busy when I'm home."
"He won't let anyone touch it," June says with a smile. "Not even me."
"Some things a man needs to do himself," Havoc says, and I nod because I understand.
Some work is prayer.
Some work is penance.
Sometimes they're the same thing.
Dinner winds down as the light fades. We eat dessert bathed in the same comfortable conversation. And when that’s over June stands. "Alright, time for bed," she announces. This is met with a chorus of groans. "No arguments."
"Can we show Savannah the horses first?" the oldest girl asks.
"Another time," June says firmly. "Now scoot."
I watch them file inside, these children with their outlaw father and their normal lives. They each stop to kiss Havoc goodnight, even the oldest boy who's trying so hard to be a man. June follows them in, promising to return once they're settled.
Havoc pulls out two beers and a bottle of whiskey, settin’ them on the table between us. Savannah takes a beer. I shake my head at both, pulling out my cigarettes instead.
"Mind?" I ask, tapping the pack.
"Just stay downwind of the house," Havoc says. "June'll have my ass if the kids smell it."
I light up, taking that first deep drag that feels like salvation. The nicotine hits my bloodstream as I exhale toward the darkening sky. Stars are coming out now, one by one, pinpricks in the black canvas above us.
"How'd you and June meet?" Savannah asks, taking a sip of her beer.
Havoc leans back in his chair, a smile softening his usually hard face. "Army. We were both stationed in Germany. She outranked me."
"Still does," I mutter, and Havoc laughs.
"Damn straight." He pours himself a finger of whiskey. "Third date, she described this life to me. This exact one we're living. The land, the house, the kids, all of it. Asked if it was my idea of paradise."
"And you said yes," Savannah fills in.
