Page 35 of Juan

Amber’s stomach pitched. Kendall’s life before coming to live with her brother hadn’t been stable. A massive understatement, that. But between her intelligence, savvy, street smarts, and resilience, she’d figured out ways to distance herself from her mom’s path while still being carted around from party to party to party. Her mom died several months ago, and Monk had become her legal guardian. In just over a week, the two would officially move into their new home in town and Helia, Monk’s partner, would join them. It wasn’t lost on anyone that the home would be Kendall’s first.

Amber cleared her throat. “On that note, I think it’s time to take a break from all the heavy stuff and think about dinner. It’s a beautiful afternoon—how about a barbecue?”

Chapter seventeen

Juan decided to enjoy the casual evening gathering rather than question when the easiness of it would end. Rather than question when the hard part of transitioning Zoe to her new family would kick in or when Amber would experience her first frustration at not doing something right or not knowing something a “mother” would know. Those times would no doubt come; they had for Monk and Kendall, and Kendall could verbalize her emotions. Tonight, though, he made himself remember that all they had for certain was this moment. And choice. He could choose to enjoy it or to worry. It wasn’t in his nature to not worry, but for Amber and Zoe, he’d try.

He sipped his beer as Leo tossed a horseshoe. On the grass, Charley and Juliana were teaching Zoe how to throw a stick for Sherman. The dog either had endless patience or no brain cells and greeted Zoe’s one-foot throws with the same toe-tapping excitement as Charley’s much longer ones. Amber stood nearby watching, a smile on her face.

The others were scattered around, all fifteen of them and their partners, except Helia, who’d be up for good soon. Clara sat at a table with Adrian and Dottie. He hadn’t been sure how the two older women would get along. Both were strong, both were opinionated, and neither called a spade anything other than a spade. He shouldn’t have worried, though. The women were birds of a feather, and laughter floated from their table.

“You doing okay?” Einstein asked, coming to his side. Like him, Scipio, and Hawkeye, he’d bounced around the foster system, too. The lives of the others in the club had been as violent, just not as…mobile. The constant moving and lack of stability traumatized the four of them in predictably unpredictable ways. His tendency to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop hadn’t come from nowhere. But unlike the others, caregivers, not parents, had been the instruments of violence in their lives. As an adult, he wasn’t sure which was worse. A stable roof over your head, but living with the kind of terror only a parent can inflict, or moving around and learning to accept that you could never count on the kindness of strangers. Or being in the same bed the next day. Both were shit options.

“Trying to enjoy the moment,” he answered Stein’s question, knowing his brother would understand.

“It’s like a scene from a fucking Rockwell painting, isn’t it? Who’d have ever guessed?”

Juan chuckled. “If Norman painted tatted up ex-soldiers who’d been through more than one kind of battle.”

Stein grunted. “Yeah, not exactly his style.”

Zoe squealed with delight when Sherman licked her face. His eyes darted to Amber. Her nose wrinkled, but she didn’t step in. “It’s pretty damn nice, though. Hard to believe we built all this, isn’t it?”

“We didn’t ‘build’ it, we’re building it. Every damn day we decide to be here for each other, for our businesses, for the network.”

Stein’s words rolled around in his head. They did decide, every day, to be there for one another. He’d taken that for granted. And as odd as it sounded in his head, he thought that was kind of a good thing. That this brotherhood had become such a part of him, become something that deep inside him, he trusted wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d relaxed. He’d come to believe, whether consciously or not, that this would “stick.”

His gaze flickered to Amber.

“You wonder if she’s going to stay a part of it?” Stein asked, going to the heart of it.

“I’m trying not to worry about it. Trying to enjoy the moment, remember.”

Stein chuckled. “I’m thinking if you put in the work, you can enjoy a lot more moments like this. Without the other angst.”

He slid a side-eye glare at his brother. “I don’t angst.”

Stein half rolled his eyes and shook his head, an annoying grin curling his lips. “Of course you do. We all do. You don’t grow up the way any of us grew up and not have anxiety.” They paused and watched Zoe toddle closer to the woods, where she promptly stumbled on a root and dropped to her well-padded behind. She glanced around, as if looking to see who might be paying attention and whether it was worth crying, but Amber moved in, scooping her up and giving her a raspberry on her stomach. Crisis averted, Juan exhaled.

“You know she’s going to cry,” Stein said. “Babies don’t not cry.”

Juan huffed. “I know. I’m still going to hate it, though.”

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know it yet, so let’s keep that to ourselves,” he replied, pulling a laugh from his brother. Amber glanced over, smiled, then took a seat on the grass with Zoe in her lap.

“Make her yours then,” Stein said.

He and Amber hadn’t even had sex yet. The thought of getting married, of adopting Zoe, of becoming a father and of making a family, terrified him in an enticing way. The steps to get there seemed momentous, almost impossible. Could he ever be what Amber wanted? What she needed? Could he be a father? The fleeting thought that he wouldn’t go through it alone crossed his mind. Philly would be a dad in a few months. He suspected Mantis and Charley wouldn’t be far behind.

That image brought a smile to his face. Who knew the guys he’d literally been in the trenches with, the guys he’d spent days in the desert or jungle puking and shitting their guts out from giardia or some other nasty bacteria with, the guys he’d executed some of the riskiest of operations with, would all be learning how to change diapers together.

“You want it, don’t you?” Stein said.

His instinct shouted at him to deny it. He’d had enough therapy, though, to know that when it came to relationships, his instinct wasn’t great. Instead of answering right away, he let the panic wash over him, recognizing it for what it was—a scar from his past, not an indicator of his future. When his pulse slowed and he felt grounded again, then he considered the question.

His eyes traveled to Amber, weaving together dandelions as Zoe watched. Two heads of dark brown hair, four sets of delicate fingers, two matching smiles.