CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
“Oh, right.” I smirked at my brothers and their partners.
“Guess I need to do that.” I headed toward my house, which was the last one in the row, furthest from the gate.
Wyatt followed me with my bag, and the gravel crunched under multiple shoes as all the kids followed me.
It was like rats and the Pied Piper. Though they were more like adorable, cheeky little rabbits than rats. And I really did miss them.
We never locked our houses on the hill. I didn’t even bother fishing out my keys and just stepped inside. Besides, our cousin Logan, from our mother’s side of the family was living with me, and presumably was either in the house, or down at the pub working behind the bar.
“We’re so glad you’re home, Uncle Jagger,” Talia said, ditching her shoes and bouncing onto my brick-colored leather sofa sectional, with Aya right behind her.
“Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?” Aya asked, grabbing the cream chenille throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and covering her and Talia’s legs with it.
The blanket was a favorite among the kids, and when they came over, they often fought over it.
It was so soft and warm to snuggle under. “You never have one.”
“There are five Christmas trees on this property,” I said, taking my bag from Wyatt and setting it on the bottom stair of my staircase. “I don’t need one. If I want to see one, I’ll just go to one of your houses, or down to the pub.”
That answer didn’t satisfy the children at all, and they each made a face of frustration.
Emme and Jake—who both loved to read—had already pulled books out from somewhere and were sitting on the floor in front of my gas fireplace reading.
Silas and Griffin pulled out the deck of cards for the game Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza.
“I think Uncle Jagger might need a few minutes to just get settled again,” Wyatt said, glancing at the kids, then me to see if that was actually what I wanted.
I shrugged. “I just wanna have a quick shower and put some different clothes on. Also, put some laundry on. They can stay though. I don’t mind.”
“Yay!” the four littler kids cheered as Talia and Aya slid to the floor to play the game with Silas and Griffin.
“Send them home if they’re annoying,” Wyatt said, heading for the door.
“They’re always annoying.” I smirked.
“Hey!” Aya shouted, making a cheeky face of pretend ire. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.” I winked at her, then focused back on Wyatt. “I’ll send ’em home if I need to.”
“Pizza for dinner at our place at six,” he said, hand on the knob.
“Sounds good.”
Then he left, and I headed upstairs with my bag to shower and put on some laundry while my six favorite people in the world warmed my heart and soul with their ridiculous banter downstairs.
As we sat around Wyatt’s living room, everyone cradling a plate with homemade pizza on it— made by our resident Italian—it was impossible for me not to reflect back on the last few days.
While I missed my family, especially my nieces and nephews, I knew they were functioning and getting along without me just fine. Now that my brothers had welcomed women back into their lives and homes, there were more people to look after the kids. I wasn’t needed as much.
Yes, I was still needed from time to time because all the women worked, but I was needed less.
The kids were also getting older and had more independence.
We had a walkie-talkie system on the property, where all the dads—and me—had a walkie-talkie on us at all times if we headed down to the brewery and pub.
The kids each had one in their house too, and we were all on the same channel.
So if anybody needed anything, they could send out a call, and one of us would respond.
Griffin came to sit next to me, holding his own plate with pizza. Since my homecoming was a special occasion, the kids were allowed to eat in the living room.
“Ah, on your knees at the coffee table, please,” Wyatt said, joining us with his pizza, followed by Dom and Chloe. Logan was working down at the pub, and Vica was in the kitchen serving up Jake and herself.
With a pout, Griffin slid to his knees to eat. Chewing, he faced me. “When are you going to get married and have kids, Uncle Jagger?”
“Please chew, swallow, then talk,” Wyatt said, the same kind of exasperation in his voice that Bennett often had when dealing with the precocious Aya.
Griffin and Aya were the wild ones of the bunch.
Outspoken, cheeky, and very opinionated.
Aya was also a bruiser and never backed away from a fight.
Bennett had been to the principal’s office a few times this year because his daughter stood up to bullies and social injustice with her fists.
Griffin made a dramatic swallow before facing me again. “So, when are you?”
I smiled and swallowed my own bite. “I dunno, bud. When the right woman comes along, I guess?”
“You want kids though, si ?” Vica asked, squeezing in beside her husband.
I nodded nonchalantly. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Whether they’re mine, hers, or ours. I would like to be a dad, I think.”
“Have a boy. We need more boys in the family,” Griffin said.
“We’re evenly matched,” Dom pointed out. “Uncle Jagger adds one more to our side, but that’s it. What do you mean, ‘We need more boys,’?”
Griffin shrugged, took another bite of his pizza, and started talking again. “I dunno. I just think we need more boys.”
“Mouth. Chewing. Talking,” Wyatt reminded him.
“Dad said you were stuck on Wayman Island with Marco Aaronson’s mom, right?” Jake asked, joining us.
I nodded. “Yeah, we were on the same ferry that got rerouted.”
“You should marry Marco’s mom,” Griffin said. “I like Marco. He’d make a great cousin. He loves video games and Pokémon.”
“Are those the requirements for a good cousin?” Wyatt teased.
Griffin shrugged, then nodded. “Not all of them. But it helps.”
Several of the adults snickered. It was just Wyatt’s family and Dom’s family here, tomorrow night—December 23—I was supposed to go have dinner at Clint’s house where Clint and Bennett’s families would be. Then we’d all get together on the 24 th and 25 th .
“Think about it though, Uncle Jagger,” Griffin said, all serious and adult-like. “I think Marco would be a good addition to our cousin squad.”
“Does how I feel about his mother mean anything?” I asked, saying it before I really thought the question through. Too late. My brothers and their partners all gave me very curious, very irritating looks.
“I guess …” Griffin said. “How do you feel about her?”
“Yes, Jagger, how do you feel about Raina Aaronson?” Vica asked, crossing one leg over the other in her chair as if settling down to hear all the tea.
I shot her, then my brothers each a look that said, “Drop it.”
They all just smirked.
“Like I said, she didn’t kill me. I didn’t let her freeze to death. We … established a truce while stuck at the B&B in the storm. A ceasefire.”
“Gotta start somewhere,” Griffin said, more to himself than any of us as he shook his head and took another bite of his pizza.
I leaned forward and ruffled his floppy brown hair.
“And will that truce carry over now that you’re both home?
” Chloe asked from her spot next to Dom on the love seat.
“It would make our relationship with the winery a lot easier. Yes, we’re all still vying for the same piece of land—but so are many others.
That shouldn’t come between amicable working relationships.
You haven’t let it come between you guys and Hardwood Distillery, or Twisted Sisters Cider. ”
“That’s the hope,” I said. “I’m not sure we’ll ever get to the point where Marco becomes a cousin, but I’m also not going to wish the woman gets lice or a bad sunburn anymore when I see a shooting star or blow out my birthday candles.”
Silas’s mouth dropped open. “You did that?”
I narrowed my gaze at him and nodded, being playfully serious. “I even did it every time I saw the clock at eleven-eleven, or blew an eyelash off my finger.”
My nephew’s blue-hazel eyes widened. “She must have gotten a lot of sunburns.”
“My wishes are pretty powerful,” I agreed, giving him a wink.
It was impossible to duck the burning curiosity and all the unaskable questions in the eyes of the adults.
Hopefully, by the time the children were out of the room, they forgot those questions and steered clear of the topic that was Raina Aaronson.
I didn’t want to be rude, but it really wasn’t anybody’s fucking business what happened on Wayman Island, in the inn, in the room, on the bed.
Truth be told, I didn’t know where we stood.
Especially after last night.
Did I want to see her again? More than I cared to admit.
Did she feel the same way? I had no fucking clue.
Probably not though.
All I really cared about was that she got home to her son for Christmas. She didn’t kill me in my sleep, and I kind of got my answer about why she ghosted me so many years ago. The rest was just a happy little bonus.
A happy little bonus … kind of like that second orgasm I managed to pull out of her last night.
I sighed and grabbed my second slice of pizza. Fuck, I was in a heap of trouble.