by Chloe Walsh
Flicking her long dark curls over her shoulder, she planted her hands on her hips, locked her blue eyes on my face, and scrunched her nose up in distaste. “How dare he spy on me? Who I date is none of his business. I’m eighteen years old, dammit. I graduate from school in three months. He’s not my father. How dare he try to dictate my life?”
Sighing heavily, I walked over to the table and lowered myself onto one of the chairs. “Uncle Derek loves you,” I said calmly, the irate voicemail I’d received earlier from Derek starting to make sense. I hadn’t been able to make out much of what he said, but I’d caught the gist of something that involved a bedroom, a blunt pair of scissors and a convent . . .
“He’s just trying to protect you,” I coaxed. “He’s trying to protect his son. Is that so bad, Hope?” I’d been having this exact same conversation with Hope since she and Jordan announced their relationship at Christmas—even though I’d known they were dating for months before that.
“I know he’s handling this badly, but you need to cut him a break, sweetie,” I told her gently. “This isn’t easy for him either, you know. He thinks of you as his own daughter. It will take some time to adjust—for all of us.”
“My love life has nothing to do with him,” she argued. Hoisting herself onto the countertop, she leaned her elbows on her thighs and huffed loudly. “Who I date is none of his business. It’s not fair, mom.”
I sighed heavily. “He was very good friend to . . .”
“Mom,” Hope snapped, clearly irritated that I wasn’t agreeing with her. “I don’t care whose best-friend he was, is, or will be. My life is over and it’s all his fault . . .”
“Goddammit, she’s at it again,” Cam grumbled as he sauntered into the kitchen, dropping his schoolbag on the table before making his way over to the oven.
Cameron was the eldest of my boys, the fieriest, the wildest, the most out-spoken, and the one who I broke out in a cold sweat worrying about every time he left the house. He was hot-headed and had an attitude that rivaled his father’s. Cam’s temper caused plenty of controversy in our house and put plenty of mileage on my car every time I was called to his school–which, without fail, was at least once a week. I didn’t sleep a wink at night for fear of some poor girl’s parents knocking on my door . . .
Opening the oven door, Cam looked inside, saw my chicken casserole, and muttered something incoherent before closing the oven door and rising to his full height of six foot one. “All you do is bitch and moan, Hope.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and smirked at me, his dimple puckering in his cheek, his dark blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Mom, maybe you should buy her a pacifier. Something to keep her mouth busy.”
“She’s got her boyfriend for that, Cam,” Colt snickered as he strolled into the kitchen, dumped his schoolbag, and headed straight to the fridge.
Colton’s sense of humor was what set him apart from his brothers. He was charismatic and able to keep his inherent temper in check–most of the time. He had a laid back, easygoing nature and everyone was drawn to him. Tall, like his brothers and Hope, he had some serious spunk, layered with a buttery type charm. I swear from the age of four, Colton Carter could charm the birds from the trees. That thought gave me many sleepless nights . . .”What’s for dinner?” Colt asked in his usual lazy drawl.
“Death in a casserole,” Cam muttered as he nudged Colt out of his way and began to raid the fridge for the remnants of the lasagna Derek cooked for dinner last night.
“My cooking is not that bad,” I chuckled as I stood up and walked over to where my boys were attacking each other for the last slither of lasagna. Taking my casserole out of the oven, I placed it on the counter in front of them and sighed. “I’m improving.”
Both boys automatically clutched at their stomachs. “Tell that to Logan,” Colt groaned. “He hasn’t come out of his room since your cookies.”
“Leave her alone, guys,” Hope snapped as she came to stand next to me. “Don’t take any notice of them, mom,” she said in a soft tone I rarely heard anymore. She then proceeded to scoop a forkful of casserole and put it slowly—achingly slowly—into her mouth. “Mmm,” she said with feigned gusto. “Much better.”
Cam rolled his eyes and laughed loudly. “Mom.” He pressed a kiss on the top of my head. “I love you, but honestly, I think you should let Uncle D make dinner from now on.”
“Over my dead body,” Hope snarled, slamming her fork down on the counter. “I’d rather starve than eat his food.”
“Then starve.” Cam shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no skin off my nose.”
“Don’t even get me started on your dumb ass,” Hope snarled, focusing her glare on her brother. “You keep talking crap like that, Cam, and I’ll lay all your shit bare.”
“You wouldn’t,” Cam whispered in disgust.
“Try me, baby brother.” Hope smiled darkly and gestured him forward with her hand. “I dare you.”
“Bitch,” Cam muttered under his breath, eyes locked on Hope in challenge.
“Guys,” I warned, stepping in between my rambunctious children–dwarfed and outnumbered by the army of monsters I’d created. “Please stop fighting.”
“Cam’s right, mom,” Colt added as he made his way over to the table, armed with a plate of sandwiches. “You need to rein it in, Hope. I’ve a goddamn headache just thinking about your voice, let alone hearing it. He loves me.” he mimicked. “He loves me not. He loves me . . . Ugh.” Colt shuddered. “Can’t you just be normal?”
Hope turned her gaze on Colt. “You want to take me on, Colt?” she asked sweetly. Raising her brow, she smirked at both boys before turning to face me. “Mom, did you know Colt had . . .”
“Let’s not be hasty here,” Colt interrupted quickly. Sinking down on a chair, he took a bite of his sandwich before suggesting, “Maybe we could cut some kind of a deal. What are your terms?”
“Good boy,” Hope said as she strolled over to Colt and pinched his cheek. “You know your place. There’s hope for you yet.”
“Hey mom,” Logan’s voice came from behind me and when I turned around I smiled. Fifteen minutes younger than Cameron and seven minutes younger than Colton, Logan was my baby. Born premature, Logan had been the frailest of the boys—although you’d never think that now—weighing a mere three pounds in comparison to Colt’s five pounds, and Cam’s solid six and a half.
All of my children were like reincarnations of Kyle. They had all inherited their father’s dark hair, blue eyes and signatory single-cheeked dimple, with the exception of Logan, who had dimples in both cheeks instead of just one, gray eyes like me, and self-control that rivaled a saint.
From a very young age, I’d realized that Logan was different to his siblings. Where Hope was headstrong, Cam and Colt tended to fly off the handle, Logan thought things through before he acted. He was deep. Don’t get me wrong, he had his moments like his siblings, but he had such empathy, such awareness for other people.
“You feeling okay?” he asked quietly, his gray eyes searched mine before resting on my cheek. He flinched and I had to force myself not to cover my scar with my hand. I knew it upset him. It always had. None of my other kids seemed to take any notice of my scars, but Logan noticed. Logan was a worrier and his favorite thing to worry about was me. “Any pain today?” he asked croakily, touching my cheek with such gentleness my heart constricted. “You’re beautiful, mom,” he whispered just loud enough for me to hear.
I smiled at his words. He’d been doing this, saying these exact words, since he was three years old and realized my face looked different to the other members of our family. “Logan, I’m fine.” I smiled brightly up at my sensitive son, patting his chest gently. “You’re sounding more like your father every day.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Logan said with a smirk, both his dimples deepening in his cheeks.
“That’s a terrible thing,” Hope groaned. “He’s worse than Derek.”
As if on cue, the front door slammed and Kyle’s voice boomed through the house. “Princess, you’d better do something with that daughter of yours. She’s gonna give me a goddamn heart attack.”
“See,” Hope hissed, her worried eyes locked on mine. “I told you Uncle Derek needed to stay out of my business. He sold me out to Dad.”
“Ding-a-ling,” Colt chimed with a smirk. “Carter versus Carter. Round three, ladies and gentleman.”
“Shut up, Colt,” Hope screamed as she stamped her foot in frustration. “Nobody understands me in this family.”
“This is gonna be awesome,” Cam snickered as he settled down in the chair next to Colt. “It's been nice knowing ya, Hope,” he taunted as he leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the table. “Dad’s gonna take your ass to church. I’ll be sure to send flowers to your funeral.”
“Can I have your room?” Colt chuckled.
“Oh, and you two are so perfect,” Hope sneered.
“You’ve got that right,” Cam said with a smirk as he folded his arms behind his head. “I’ve been a good boy this week.”
“It’s Monday,” Hope said in an exasperated tone. “And the day is still young.”
The kitchen door opened inwards and I felt the atmosphere in the room change–crackle with electricity.
My body went on high alert.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
Kyle Carter—the love of my life, the father of my army of monsters—stood in the doorway, his presence scorching me, his penetrating blue eyes seeking me out. He looked damn fine in his work clothes–a crisp white shirt accompanied by a limp-looking blue tie, and black suit pants. And when his eyes found mine, he smiled a slow, predatory smile that was full of carnal promise. “Hey baby,” he purred, his deep, husky voice sending shivers up my spine.
I stood motionless, my eyes locked on my husband, drinking him in, appreciating every slither of his beautiful skin from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He took a step towards me and every muscle south of my bellybutton clenched in anticipation.
My eyes roamed over him shamelessly, settling on the jagged, uneven scar on the right side of his neck—that stood out like a sore thumb on his otherwise flawless body.
Cam cleared his throat loudly. “So, are you two gonna stare at each other all night or what?” Kyle fixed his gaze on Cam which caused Cam to hold his hands up in retreat. “Just saying . . . never mind.”
“You,” Kyle growled as he pointed a finger at Cam. “Get your feet off your mother’s table.” Cam’s feet landed on the floor as quick as lightening.
“You,” Kyle continued, pointing at Colt. “Get on the phone right this minute and apologize to the next door neighbor’s daughter.” Colt opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it when he took in Kyle’s no-nonsense expression. “Don’t make me tell your mother what you did, Colt.”
“What did he do?” I asked nervously.
“Which daughter?” Cam snickered as he elbowed Colt in the ribs.
“Both of them,” Kyle answered without missing a beat.
“Colton,” I groaned in despair.
“Fine,” Colt grumbled as he slid out of his seat and made his way to the kitchen door, turning at the last minute. “What if her dad picks up?” he asked in a nervous tone.
“I’m hoping he does,” Kyle said with a smirk as he made his way towards me, pausing to ruffle Logan’s hair affectionately. “You feeling better, bud?” he asked Logan in a noticeably softer tone.
“Getting there, Dad,” Logan replied as he rubbed his flat stomach absentmindedly. I cringed with guilt.
Logan was just getting over food poisoning. From me. I had poisoned my youngest son. Almost fed him to death with an evil batch of cookies. I was a terrible mother.
Kyle smirked at me before whispering something in Logan’s ear, causing both of them to chuckle quietly, before focusing his attention on our daughter.
“And you,” he growled as he folded his arms across his chest and glared down at Hope. “Derek called me. You better start explaining yourself. Fast.”
“Dad, this is so unfair,” Hope yelled as she stood toe to toe with her father, staring up at him, defiance blazing in her eyes. “Uncle Derek freaked out over nothing. So he caught us making out in Jordan’s bedroom. Big deal. We’re in love, Dad. That’s what people do when they’re in love. They kiss. He loves me. He’s gonna kiss me. Maybe more. But guess what, I’m not stupid and neither is he. Mom gave me a very thorough talk years ago, so please just get over yourself.”
“He loves me,” Kyle mimicked sarcastically. “Goddammit, Hope,” he growled as he started to pace the floor. “He loves what’s under your clothes, can’t you see that?” Running a hand through his hair, he waved his hand around aimlessly. “He’s too old for you,” he muttered, clearly agitated. “What the hell is a twenty-one year old man doing sniffing around an eighteen year old girl?”
“Hey Dad?” Colt called out, interrupting the stare down between Hope and Kyle. “Is there anything in particular you want me to say?”
“Not now, Colt,” Kyle grumbled, his eyes locked on Hope. “You are not seeing him, Hope. I forbid it.”
“I’m over eighteen, Dad,” she shot back. “You can’t forbid me to do anything.”
“Uh . . . Dad? She’s crying and shit,” Colt muttered.
Kyle rolled his eyes and sighed. “How about ‘you’re sorry for being an insensitive asshole, and she’s probably in the clear, but you’ll call in about four weeks to make sure.’“
My eyes bulged in my head. “Colton,” I whispered, my hand covering my mouth. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Colt mumbled quickly before rushing from the room.
“He fucking did,” Cam snorted, following Colt out of the kitchen. “I gotta hear this.”
“I’ll just . . . uh . . . see ya,” Logan muttered as he rushed after his brothers, patting Hope’s shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.
“I love Jordan,” Hope cried as she slammed her palms down on the counter. “I’ve been in love with him since forever, and you and Uncle Derek are making our lives a misery.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word, Hope,” Kyle snarled. “And pigs will fly before I allow my teenage daughter outside that door with him.”
“You are such a freaking hypocrite,” Hope screamed. “You are three and a half years older than mom, and she was eighteen when you started dating.” Hope turned to face me, her eyes wide and full of unshed tears. “Mom, tell him, please?”
I opened my mouth, but Kyle butted in before I had a chance to speak. “No, no, no,” he laughed humorlessly. “Don’t even think about trying to drag your mother into this.”
“Kyle, maybe you should listen . . .” I started to say, but Kyle interrupted me.
“No, baby,” he said defensively. Stalking over to where I was standing, he placed his hands on my hips and exhaled roughly before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “I know what I’m talking about. I got this. Trust me.”
Turning around to face our daughter, Kyle used his ‘reasoning voice’ when he said, “Hope, I love you. Your mother loves you. Your brothers love you. Jordan Porter’s dick loves you and at his age his dick will trick you. Trick you into doing all kinds of things that could potentially kill your father. His dick could kill me, Hope . . .”
“Were you not twenty-two when you met mom?” Hope argued, not one bit fazed by her father’s rising temper. “Was mom not eighteen?”
“That’s different,” Kyle muttered in a petulant tone.
“How?” Hope pushed. “How is that different?”
“It was different in every damn way,” Kyle snapped, red-faced and flustered. “We lived together for one.”
Hope rose her brow in surprise and I could envision Kyle mentally slapping himself on the head for that remark.
She walked you right into her trap, Carter . . .
&nb
sp; “So, you’re saying if Jordan and I lived together, then it would be absolutely fine to date? To be in love?” Kyle paled and Hope’s grin widened. “Maybe Jordan and I should move in together. Take a leaf out of yours and mom’s book. It worked out pretty well for you guys . . .”
“Don’t go there, Hope,” Kyle warned. “Don’t fucking push me on this.”
“The boys are barely seventeen,” she disputed. “And you allow them to date whoever the hell they want.”
“Again that’s different,” Kyle countered.
“You are a sexist pig,” she growled.
“No, I am a protective father,” Kyle said in a dramatic tone. “The worst thing the boys can bring home is a bruised ego. You can bring home a baby. And here’s a friendly warning, sweetheart, babies come by the bucketful in this family.”
“I’m going to see him, Dad,” she snarled. “You can’t stop me.”
“Wanna bet?” Kyle said with a smirk.
“Okay guys,” I said as I stepped in between them. “Let’s just take it down a notch.”
“Lee,” Kyle said in an exasperated tone as he glanced down at me, his eyes pleading with me to back him up. “It’s bad enough we’ve got dumb and fucking dumber running around the state like two horned-up tomcats. Say we let our daughter go out with that kid. . . . Dinner, maybe a movie.”
Pacing resumed, Kyle spoke animatedly as he gestured wildly with his hands. “A little sweet talk here, a little underage drinking there. Then there’s some backseat action.” His voice rose with every word he spoke. “Prom comes around. Hormones are raging. ‘Love’ is in the air . . . and bam, what’d ‘ya know, she’s on 16 and Pregnant. He’s ‘not ready for the heavy’ and do you know who’ll be left holding the baby?” He waved a finger between us and I had to hold my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh at Kyle’s outraged expression. “Us,” he bellowed. “That’s who, and I sure as hell don’t plan on spending my golden years cleaning up shit and vomit, and doing night feeds.”
