Chapter 4
Mason
The back door swings shut behind us, cutting off the sound of Kelly and Bella’s laughter inside. For a second, it’s just the three of us standing on the back porch.
Me, Stryker, and Johnny—who is already halfway across the yard like he’s been shot out of a cannon.
“THIS IS WHERE THE PARTY IS GONNA BE!” he yells, spreading his arms wide like he’s presenting a grand stage.
I step down off the porch and glance around the backyard. The sun is already high enough to warm the grass, burning off the last bit of dew. The space is decent-sized—big enough for what we need—but right now it looks like exactly what it is.
A backyard. Not a party. Yet.
Stacks of folding tables lean against the fence. Chairs are piled beside them in uneven towers. The grill sits near the patio, covered and waiting.
In a couple of hours… This place is going to be packed. Kids running everywhere. Bikes lined up along the driveway. Brothers filling the yard.
I roll my shoulders and nod toward the stack.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s get to it.”
Johnny runs over and immediately tries to grab a stack of chairs. It barely moves. He strains, his face turning red.
“I got it,” he grunts.
Stryker chuckles and walks over, easily lifting the stack like it weighs nothing.
“Maybe start with something your size, kid.”
Johnny scowls.
“I’m strong.”
“No doubt,” I say. “But we don’t need you pulling a muscle before the party even starts.”
Johnny looks down at the stack of chairs again. Then nods like he’s accepting a challenge.
“I’ll carry one.”
“That works.”
He grabs a single chair this time and drags it across the yard, the metal legs scraping against the ground.
“Easy,” I call after him. “You’re not sanding the yard.”
“I’m helping!” he shouts back.
Stryker laughs under his breath as he sets down another stack.
“He’s got your attitude.”
“Don’t remind me.”
We start working. Tables first. I grab one from the pile and unfold it, the metal legs snapping into place with a solid click. Stryker sets another beside it, lining them up along the edge of the patio.
Johnny returns, dragging his chair behind him like it’s a prized possession.
“Where does this go?”
“Anywhere around the tables,” I tell him.
He carefully positions it. Crooked and way too far from the table. But he steps back and nods like it’s perfect. I don’t say anything. We’ve got time to fix it later.
Stryker wipes his hands on his jeans and glances toward the house.
“You ready for this?” he asks.
I follow his gaze. Inside, I can just make out movement through the back window. Kelly and Bella decorating. Trying to organize what’s about to turn into chaos. I exhale slowly.
“Not even a little.”
Stryker smirks.
“Yeah, you are.”
I shake my head.
“This is different.”
“How?”
I look out at the yard again. At the tables we’re setting up. At Johnny dragging another chair across the grass, determined to do his part.
“At the clubhouse, it’s just us,” I say. “Noise, drinks, fights if things go sideways.”
I nod toward the house.
“This… this is kids. Families. My girls’ first birthday.”
Stryker’s expression shifts slightly. Softer.
“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”
Johnny runs back over to us again, slightly out of breath.
“Can I help with the grill?”
I glance toward it. The heavy metal lid. The propane tank. Not exactly kid-friendly.
“You can help watch,” I say.
Johnny beams.
“Okay!”
I walk over and pull the cover off the grill, tossing it aside. The metal gleams in the sunlight, still clean from the last time we used it.
Stryker steps up beside me.
“You cooking today?”
“Yeah.”
He nods.
“Good. Because I’m not trusting Justice anywhere near food.”
Johnny giggles.
“Uncle Justice burns stuff.”
“That’s putting it nicely,” I mutter.
I check the propane tank, twisting the knob and making sure everything’s set. Behind me, Johnny has started arranging chairs again. This time in a line. Not near the tables. Just… a line.
I glance over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a row.”
“For what?”
He shrugs.
“People.”
Stryker laughs. “Kid’s got a vision.”
“Kid’s got chaos,” I reply. But I don’t move the chairs. Not yet.
Johnny steps back and looks at his work. Then nods. Satisfied.
I lean against the grill for a second, taking it all in. The yard. The setup. The sound of laughter faintly drifting from inside the house. A year ago, none of this felt real. Now it’s everything.
Johnny runs back over and grabs my hand, tugging on it.
“Dad!”
“What?”
“Do you think the twins are gonna like their party?”
I look down at him. Then out at the yard again. At everything we’re setting up for them.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think they’re gonna love it.”
Johnny grins. “Me too.”
Stryker claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Give it an hour,” he says. “This place is gonna be packed.”
I huff out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah.”
I glance back toward the house one more time. Where Kelly is. Where my daughters are. Safe. Happy. And waiting for the storm to roll in.
“Let’s finish this,” I say.
Because in a little while… The Storm Reapers are showing up. And this quiet backyard—Is about to turn into something else entirely.