Alcohol You Later (61)

Maybe even raise these kids…

“Hi Dada,” Ava calls when I unzip her crib. Her tears dry up instantly, like she wasn’t just screaming bloody murder the entire five minutes I spent washing my ass in the shower.

“Mornin’, drama queen.” Her answering smile tugs at my chest.

“Help! Help me!” Her brother’s tiny fist pounds against the netting.

“I’m coming, Alex.”

I set the bleary-eyed little girl to her feet, handing her a diaper, then rescue Alex from his cell. “Morning, bud.”

“A’mornin’, Dada.” Dimples dent his cheeks when he greets me, and that smile has me feeling like a superhero. No one’s ever regarded me with as much trust in their eyes as these two. It’s a reward that makes all the hard stuff worth it.

“Come on,” I say, heading for the living area, knowing my little shadows will be right behind. “Bring your diapers.”

“You’re really getting the hang of this,” Lyle observes from his position behind the stove while I lay them both down on the rug and get myself prepped with wipes and fresh changes of clothes.

I cup one hand around the other, using it as a shield to flip him off.

He laughs into his steaming mug. “Just sayin’… You’ve made a complete turnaround. I’m proud of ya, man.”

“Yeah,” I say, tackling Alex first. “Thanks. They keep me so busy I don’t even have time to think about drinking or partying.” That aspect has been an enormous blessing. Idle time is a thing of the past. And funnily enough, I don’t really miss it. “It’s not so bad.”

In truth, I never had anything more worthy to spend my time on, so I filled the hours with unhealthy distractions, because that was better than being alone with my thoughts.

Once I’ve got him changed and run a comb through his hair, I send him to Uncle Lyle for some breakfast and move on to the difficult one.

Changing Ava’s diaper—I’d liken it to wrangling an alligator. The girl fights to the death.

“Come on, Ava,” I groan, breaking out in a sweat while trying to wrestle her into a clean Pamper.

“Girl’s gonna be hell on wheels,” Lyle muses, while cutting up a pancake for her brother.

“Do you want to see a pony?” I ask, huffing for breath. “Cuz, if you don’t let me get these clothes on you, then you ain’t seein’ no damn pony.”

Her green eyes double in size. “I see damn pony!” she sasses, glaring at me like a grown-ass woman.

“Then put your arms up.”

She crosses them over her chest, giving her head a firm shake.

God bless it.

“Everything okay in here?” Raven’s curious voice is music to my ears.

“Not hardly.” I throw my daughter’s clothes at her hands, sighing in defeat. “Can you please get that wild thing dressed?”

“Hi, Way-way.” Ava toddles over to meet her, willingly stepping right into the same shorts I fought for almost five minutes to get on her, unsuccessfully.

“Hi, sweet angel.” She glares at me over the little girl’s head, as if I’m the one being dramatic. “Are you ready to ride a pony?”

I think Raven’s more excited about the animals than the kids—probably because they don’t fully understand the awesome surprise their daddy has in store for them.

These babies spend far too much time trapped in this bus, largely due to the fact that the media can’t catch wind of them until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do about their existence. I was able to arrange for a mobile petting zoo to come to the venue in Oklahoma City. If I can’t take them out into nature, I can at the very least bring it to them.

“I ride damn pony,” the little girl chimes while Raven combs her blonde curls into pigtails.

Ray chokes on a laugh, quirking a judgmental brow in my direction.

“You heard the girl. She’s ready to ride a damn pony.” I toss my hands out in defeat. If the worst thing these kids pick up while on the road is the word “damn,” I’m not doing too shabby.

My better half shakes her head at me. “Your daddy is crazy,” she whispers to my little girl, adding red bows to match her yellow shirt that’s covered in strawberries.

“All right, now come eat your breakfast.” I pat a hand on Ava’s chair, motioning to the plate of food I prepared for her while Raven got her ready.

That child answers with an eyeroll to rival any teenager. “I hole you,” she tells Raven, stretching her little arms into the air.

“Someone’s got a favorite,” Lyle taunts, laughing his ass off.

“She’s just a girl with great taste.” Raven carries her to the counter, setting her on the top and proceeds to feed her.

“Can’t argue with that logic.” I take Alex down and get socks and shoes on his feet. “All ready, man.” I scruff a hand through his blond hair.

“Where mine?” He stares down at his arm then points to the ink on mine, and I swear my heart grows ten sizes. Ever since I put temporary tattoos on them a few days ago, he insists on having one every morning.

Some kids wear ballcaps like their daddy’s. Mine wears his ink.

“Almost forgot.” I swing him up into my arms and carry him over to the kitchen sink, letting him pick from a selection of hearts and skulls. He chooses the biggest one in the pack, a heart with a skull dead center.