Mason stopped and gazed at his boys guiltily. “I forgot,” he said lamely.
“Let’s get the kids settled,” he said briskly, carrying Noah and his truck to the vehicle.
Once he buckled the boys in and added the luggage to the back, he approached an uneasy Mason, who ran back to lock the door.
“I know we have a ton of shit between us, but I’m only saying this once. Those boys aren’t puppies or guinea pigs. They’re your kids. You may have losttheir mother, but they’re your responsibility. Don’t let me find them hungry again, you got it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mason said, holding his head down in shame. “I’m having some issues lately, and then you showed up, we watched the circus from the window, and I forgot, all right? It’s not like they don’t get fed every day.”
“I mean it, Mason. I’ll kick your ass so hard even Google Earth can’t find you when I’m done,” he warned.
“I said, I got it,” Mason insisted angrily as he climbed into the front seat and slammed the door.
“Why does he get to ride up front? I started this trip with you,” Elias complained bitterly.
Owen started the van, put in Dillon’s address, and backed out of the driveway, listening to Mason and Elias bicker about who got the shotgun seat. The twins banged their cars against the plastic seats, reminding him to pick up some fast food before the kids fell asleep. He turned onto the main road and spotted a fast-food restaurant and pulled into the drive-thru.
“All right, boys, what do you want to eat?” he called to his new passengers.
“Cheesebugger. Apples” Noah called.
“Me, too, me too,” Nathan chimed in.
“Do we have to eat here? Do you know how many additives they add to this junk? Can’t we find a place with organic food?” Elias asked as he read the menu.
“Dude, it’s your favorite place to eat,” Mason said, turning around.
“When I was eight,” Elias argued. “We already ate fast food. I happen to care what I put in my body.”
Wyatt sat up from the far back. “Good, because when I get out of this, I’m sticking my fist up you?—”
“We have kids, keep it G,” Owen warned as his head throbbed. Not even ten minutes in the van, and he already wanted to gag them.
“Get me two double cheese, a large fry, and a soda,” Wyatt said, sulking.
“I’ll take the same,” Mason said quietly, pulling out his wallet.
“I got this,” Owen said as he placed the orders and added his own. Then he pulled around to the next window.
“Want soda. No milk,” he demanded, as Mason passed back the cartons.
“No,” Mason replied. “It’s too late. Thank Uncle Owen for the food,” he said as he tossed Wyatt the burgers.
“Wanna soda,” Nathan whined and rubbed his eyes. “He gots one,” he said, pointing to Wyatt.
“Nope,” Owen said calmly. “I ordered him a milk, too. He has a big boy cup.”
Nathan opened his mouth and let out a piercing scream when he didn’t get his way. “Wanna soda,” he insisted.
Mason covered his ears and closed his eyes,refusing to deal with the situation. Frowning, Owen pulled the van into a parking space and swung open the side door, taking Nathan’s drink away.
“We don’t waste good food. If you don’t want your milk, I’ll drink it. No one will get a soda because it’s past your bedtime. Do you understand?” he asked the startled Nathan, who sobbed.
“No cheesebugger,” he said, whipping the sandwich at Owen’s head. Peering at his brother, Owen made a disgusted snort as he witnessed Mason pull his hat low and pretend as if nothing concerned him.
Unbuckling Nathan, he pulled him from the car seat and set him on the ground. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His nephew crossed his arms and stomped his feet. “Wanna soda,” he yelled.
