“I’m keeping him from blasting our eardrums,” Mason argued. “We don’t have time to put up with tantrums.”
“I see how you want to play it. Let him get his way and never learn a consequence,” Owen nodded. “How did it work for Wyatt. Do you want him to become like our baby brother who’s sulking right now because Dillon didn’t have his favorite alcoholic beverage in the middle of the woods? Or maybe it’s because Dillon threatened him if he didn’t eat something and he didn’t like the exterior of the place?”
“I get it, all right?” Mason said defeated. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“It seems like you haven’t in a long-time brother,” Owen said sternly.
“People in glass houses don’t have any businessthrowing stones,” Mason said angrily. “At least I’m here for my kids.”
“It’s not the same. You’re no different than me. Maybe you’re physically present, but you’re not here with them,” Owen sneered. “I didn’t know. It’s my own fault, but I intend to make it right.”
Mason jaw ticked and his mouth firmed in a straight line as he helped his boys wash their hands and lead them out to the dining area.
Owen finished up and headed back to the table. He almost laughed as he watched Wyatt, Nathan and Mason glare at him.
Taking out his phone, he intended to call Leslie after they ate breakfast and let her know they’d arrive in a couple of hours. Frowning, he noticed he didn’t have cell service.
“You won’t have any until we get down the road a mile or two,” Dillon said, before turning to the waitress. “Hi, May. Can we get a family-sized stack of pancakes, a bowl of scrambled eggs, and a platter of sausage and bacon?”
The older woman smiled. “Sure thing. Do you want any toast?”
“Sure, make it sourdough,” Dillon said, shooting her a wide smile. “Wyatt, go wash your hands and stop sulking. If you think Owen’s a bully, see what happens when you don’t listen to me, little brother. Mom’s not here to save you anymore, and I haveyears of pent-up anger on how she babied you to no end.”
Snarling, Wyatt stood and stomped toward the bathroom while Mason angrily placed silverware in front of the boys. Nathan immediately picked it up and slammed the spoon on the table.
“Stop,” Owen said, holding the spoon down. “We show respect when we’re in a restaurant.”
“Don’t tell my kid what to do,” Mason growled.
“Then you do it,” Owen said, narrowing his eyes at Nathan. “If you bang the table one more time, I’m removing you from it.”
Smiling triumphantly at getting Mason and Owen fighting, Nathan raised the spoon and hit a glass of water, shattering the glass and flooding the table.
Owen picked up Nathan and strode to the van while the little boy kicked and screamed bloody murder. Setting him on the ground beside the vehicle, he let Nathan play out his tantrum from hell. A few minutes later, Dillon came out with two boxes as Nathan sat on the ground sobbing.
“I brought you breakfast,” he said, peering at the boy. “Mason’s furious. Do you think it’s a good idea to reprimand his kid? You’re undermining his authority.”
“Did you see Mason do anything? He hasn’t acted like a parent. He’s a walking zombie. Someone has to step in. This one has thrown tantrums nonstop. Noah’s a bit calmer and has moments. Until Masonhas his act together, I’m afraid we’ll be parenting,” Owen said, taking the boxes from his brother. He opened the lighter one and leaned down to Nathan, showing him the pancake and sausage links.
“Yum, this smells delicious. If you’re done, you can sit inside the van and eat. Then you’ll apologize to May for breaking her glass and making a mess,” he explained gently. “Do you want to think about your actions while you eat, or do you want to sit on the grass while I eat mine?”
Seeing Owen didn’t intend to let him get away with the behavior, Nathan stood. “Want pancakes.”
“Then let’s get you into your seat and I’ll cut it up for you,” he offered, handing Dillon the containers while he picked his nephew up and sat him down. He placed the food in front of him and cut it up in tiny pieces. “Do you want butter and syrup?”
Nodding, Nathan waited until his uncle finished and handed him a fork. Nathan set it down and ate with his hands, cramming bits into his mouth.
“Does he not know how to eat with silverware?” Dillon asked.
Sighing Owen shook his head. “Who knows. We ate fast food last night because Mason forgot to feed them.”
Dillon shot a worried gaze at him as Elias came out holding a carton of chocolate milk and a large coffee, handing them to Owen.
“Thanks,” he said, placing the straw in the cartonand handing it to Nathan. He sipped on the hot brew, letting the caffeine refuel him for the trip home.
When the others finished eating, they returned to the van. Owen took Nathan out of his seat and led him inside to wash his hands and then to the kind server, May.
“What do you have to say to May?” he prompted.
