That said, watching Jelena and Eva interact added something to an already complete puzzle. Jelena hung on Eva's words, basked in her praise. And, in turn, Eva clearly enjoyed talking about 'girl things' with someone, had a lot of wisdom to impart on a growing girl.
And as for Jelly and Jacob, they poked fun at each other in a way that was not mean-spirited, but reminiscent of the way my siblings and I had ribbed one another when we were young.
"They are cute," Eva decided, both of us pausing in the doorway to the kitchen with dishes in our hands, looking at the kids as they fought over what movie to watch.
"I, ah, I probably should have asked this before," I said, looking at the warm light in her eyes. "About kids. Do you, you know... did you want more?" I asked, hoping the tension wasn't in my words.
"Oh, God no. I mean, wow, that was probably a little too forceful, huh?" she asked, grimacing at me as she turned into the kitchen, putting her dishes in the sink, running hot water on them.
"Not if that is how you feel," I told her, shaking my head.
"I know I am supposed to want more. And there is like this unspoken rule about how blended couples seem to have to have one child that is, you know, both of theirs in the strictest definition of the word. But I sobbed happy tears when Jacob learned to potty train. I really don't think I could go back to diaper changing again. Or sleepless nights. Or having a teen gap between children. I never saw myself having another. Sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about," I told her, shaking my head. "I didn't see myself having more either. I can't imagine doing it all over again all these years older."
"I heard a mom talking about a blowout diaper in the store the other day. I swear my eggs trembled with fear," she told me, then laughed. "Sorry, that was probably a weird visual. But, yeah, the way I see it, Jacob will be off to college in a few years. And I will have some time to have some me-time for the first time in my life. And then, before too long, he will make me a grandma. And I can enjoy all the cute parts of a baby without the sleeplessness and dirty diapers."
"You're really hung up on the diaper thing, huh?" I chuckled.
"They claim you get used to it," she said, looking a little green. "I did not. And I have this tendency, when I smell something gross, to kinda, gag and baby diapers are..." she said, trailing off on a genuine gagging noise, getting another laugh out of me.
"Okay. Maybe stop thinking about that. You look like you're going to get sick," I said, smiling as I moved toward her, grabbing her hips, pulling her up against me. "You know what I was thinking?"
"That you smell that gas leak now too?" she asked, eyes dancing.
"Well, there's that," I agreed, but we both knew I was joking. "But I was thinking that maybe that me-time you were talking about could be us-time."
"So long as us-time involves a lot of healthy exercise," she said, nodding. "I mean, cardiovascular health is very important. We can't slack on that. Not even if our—how did Gus put it—uglies get dangly," she said, giggling at the phrasing.
"I will make sure you get your workouts. Multiple ones a day. Your health is very important to me," I agreed, letting my hands glide down to sink into her ass for just a second.
"So you see a future here?" she asked, sounding hesitant and hopeful at the same time. I knew because I was feeling the same way.
"I see a future here," I agreed.
I was so lost in her, in us, in the potential for the future that I missed my phone ringing in the other room.FIFTEENReignUltimately, it seemed like trying to force the women to stay up at Hailstorm any longer would turn into a bigger war than the one we had all just fought.
And with Summer as their fearless leader, I knew me and my men didn't stand a fucking chance against them.
They wanted to come home.
And we couldn't find any immediate threats to use to make them stay.
That said, they had to come back to the clubhouse, or they could go home, but only with guards from Hailstorm. Which was stretching Lo's—and let's face it, these days, Chris's—crew thin, but I was calling in the favor this time. Just to be sure.
Because the fact of the matter was, we still had no fucking idea what was going on.
Someone had tortured and killed Miguel Alvear and dumped him in front of our clubhouse.
Was it a message?
A warning?
Or was it a peace offering of some sort?