Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(107)

I couldn’t hack it.

“Oh my God!” I yelled. “Everybody, stop talking!”

“We’ll stop talking when you stop being weird,” Dutch shot back.

“I’m not being weird,” I retorted.

“You’re bein’ weird and we’re, like, just about as glad as we are grossed out you’re gettin’ some, with Hound gettin’ some too, from you, so you can just relax,” Dutch returned.

“I’m not being weird about having sex with your stepfather!” I shouted.

“It’s the way of the world, Ma, get a grip,” Dutch fired back.

“I know it’s the way of the world so I wasn’t even thinking about that until you brought it up. I’m being weird because Hound made Jean breakfast every morning and now he’s making me breakfast every morning and today he’s making all of us breakfast in the morning and I’m worried sick he’s not dealing with the loss of a woman he loved very much!” I bellowed.

Dutch shut up and slid his eyes to Hound.

Jag looked over his shoulder at Hound.

I turned to glare at Hound but only because the glare was meant for Dutch, and I was too embarrassed and upset to stop glaring when I also looked at Hound.

Hound was looking at me.

“Babe,” he said softly.

“Well, I am,” I snapped.

“Jesus, Ma,” Dutch bit out, and I looked at him to see him glowering at me.

“Yeah, Ma, Jesus,” Jagger clipped, and I saw he too was glowering at me.

“What?” I asked, totally confused at their glowering.

“Now I’m more ticked you’re bein’ weird ’cause however he’s gotta deal, just let him deal, yeah?” Dutch stated, sounding what he said, more ticked.

“Yeah, a man deals how he deals, you just deal with how he needs to deal, Ma. God,” Jagger put in irately.

“Are you two ganging up on me because I’m worried about Hound?” I asked in order to see if I had this situation straight.

“Yeah,” Dutch answered immediately. “Just, you know, be, like … supportive and shit.”

“Yeah, and not weird,” Jagger put in. “That’s not supportive. It’s just weird.”

“I am being supportive and shit,” I returned sharply. “Hound grunts instead of saying, ‘I love you.’ When a man expresses an important emotion like that through a grunt, you gotta feel your way with supportive … and shit … when he loses someone he cares about as much as he cared about Jean.”

Dutch looked at Hound. “You love Ma?” he asked.

“Son,” Hound said, but that one word also said, “That’s a stupid fucking question.”

“Hey,” Jagger put in, now all smiles. “Cool.”

Hound just gave Jag an amused look and turned to flip pancakes.

“Just to say,” Dutch began in an I’m-about-to-instruct-you tone of voice, his attention again on me, “men like us are not wordy. If you get that a grunt means ‘I love you,’ leave it at that.”

“Yeah,” Jagger agreed. “Seriously.”

“I did leave it at that,” I told them.

“Well, keep doin’ that,” Dutch encouraged.

I lifted my hands up and to the sides, one holding a fork, one holding a knife, both dripping maple syrup. “Am I really sitting at my own kitchen table with my two sons instructing me on how to conduct my relationship?”

“Yeah, you really are,” Dutch answered without hesitation. “’Cause Hound’s like us, and Dad’s been gone awhile so you need a refresher.”

“Just to say, he may grunt,” Jagger put in, “but you should tell him you love him back and use your words.”

“I do,” I told Jagger heatedly.

He nodded at me like he was encouraging a small child and repeated his brother’s words, “Keep doin’ that.”

It was then, a continuous low, rolling noise coming from the stove caught my attention and I looked that way to see Hound’s shoulders shaking.

He was laughing.

“This is not fucking funny, cowboy,” I snapped.

He flipped Jagger’s two pancakes on a plate that already held four rashers of bacon and turned to me.

“Jean would be laughin’ herself sick, listenin’ to this shit. Her face all screwed up, wrinkles all movin’ in. I’d lose her eyes but get her teeth, she’d be laughin’ so fuckin’ hard,” Hound declared. “That is, after she read you all about talkin’ about bonin’ and bangin’ at the kitchen table, or anywhere,” he amended.

The room went silent.

Hound kept his eyes to me as the humor slid away. “I miss her. I’ll never stop missin’ her. It’s a pain that runs deep and will never die, I’ll just get used to livin’ with it. She’s the reason I got up every day to face that day, baby. Now you’re that reason. She’d feel joy knowin’ I have you for that reason. So let me have that reason and stop worrying.”

“Okay, honey,” I whispered.

He gave me a long look, took in the look I was giving him and nodded.

“And boys, listen up,” Hound kept going, his gaze moving between my sons. “Your mother doesn’t need a refresher. She knows how to take care of her man, and if you were payin’ closer attention to her than you were havin’ a mind to me that I know, ’cause I know my boys, also has to do with you bein’ worried about how I’m copin’ with losin’ Jean, you’d have seen it. But just to say, here on out, you best watch how that flows from your ma to me because that’s what you’ll be lookin’ for when you find the one you wanna make your old lady. You hearin’ me?”