Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(82)

“Good. Six thirty. I’m making fried pork chops.”

“You should have led with that.”

I smiled. “See your asses there when you get there.”

“Yeah, Ma. Later.”

“Later, Dutch. Love you, kid.”

“Back at you.”

We hung up and I called Hound.

“Yo, baby,” he answered.

“The boys are gonna be over tonight for pork chops. Six thirty,” I told him.

“I’ll be over earlier, help you cook.”

“Cool, honey, thanks.”

After saying this, suddenly, I got freaked.

And freakily, over the phone, Hound read it.

“Babe, they’re good. They’re cool. It’s gonna be fine.”

“I kinda know that, but having them say they want us together and having them see us together are two different things,” I replied.

“Are you gonna spend the next six hours winding yourself up about this to end up fuckin’ it up?” he asked.

“That would not be the optimal scenario.”

He sounded like he was smiling when he said, “No. It wouldn’t. So stay cool, mama. This is gonna be the easy part. The awesome part. Don’t make it hard. We got enough of that on the horizon.”

“Awesome, Shep. Thanks so much for reminding me of that,” I muttered.

That was when I heard another man in my life chuckling over the phone.

Waking up alone in my bed for nearly eighteen years, I’d felt like I’d done it a loser. It wasn’t until I clapped eyes on my boys every day that I knew that wasn’t exactly true.

Hearing first Dutch, then Hound laughing in my ear in the expanse of about five minutes, I knew now I was a total winner.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m a badass biker bitch. Of course I’m good,” I answered.

That had him howling with laughter.

Yep.

I was a total winner.

“See you around five thirty, six. Yeah?” he asked.

“Sounds good, babe. See you then.”

“Right, baby.” Soft and sweet. And softer and sweeter, “Love you.”

I blinked.

I slowly opened my mouth.

But I heard the tone that said he’d disconnected.

Love you.

Had he disconnected because he realized he’d said that?

Love you.

Or had he said it because it was so natural to say it, he just disconnected.

Love you.

He loved me.

Hound loved me.

I knew he loved me but he just told me.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

I pulled my phone from my ear, my finger poised to dial Bev, and then I realized I could not.

“Shit,” I hissed.

“All good?” I heard asked and looked at one of the teachers sitting at another table in the staff lounge having his lunch.

Keith Robinson.

He was one of the ones I really liked, but I didn’t know all that well (that last part being how I knew all of them). He seemed totally cool. The kids adored him. I even had one hardcase who skipped school but came back just to hit his class.

“My new man just told me he loved me for the first time,” I blurted.

Okay, I couldn’t believe I just blurted that.

But Hound just told me he loved me.

I had to tell somebody!

Keith’s entire handsome face lit with a smile.

“Right on,” he replied.

“He’s loved me for eighteen years.” I thought on that and added, “Maybe longer.”

Keith’s brows drew together. “That took a while to say.”

“I was married to his brother. He died.”

“Sorry,” Keith murmured. “Rough. Really sorry, Keely.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” I told him.

“I’m seeing it’s not that easy for him to make that play, your husband was his brother,” Keith remarked.

He could say that again.

“They were biker brothers,” I explained. “They belong to the same motorcycle club.”

Somehow, he completely got it. “Right then, probably really not easy for him to make that play.”

“The Club doesn’t know yet,” I shared.

“Likely strategizing that communication is akin to planning the raid when they found Osama Bin Laden,” he joked.

“You got that right,” I agreed.

He gathered his sandwich, bag of chips and drink and moved to my table.

“Know a guy in a club,” he shared once he’d settled. “Good man. Good club. What I know is that kind of brotherhood is a deeper one than any. If your man loves you, they’ll want him to have that and they’ll come around.”

“I hope so,” I muttered, looking at my burrito and thinking maybe I should pack my lunch because Keith’s mammoth homemade shaved roast beef sandwich looked way better than my microwave burrito.

“You doubt it?” he asked.

“My man, my husband, I mean, he was, well … he was more beloved than most by those guys.”

“And your new man, they’re not fond of him?” Keith teased.

“Graham, my old man, he was the glue of the Club. Shep, my new old man, he’s their shield.”