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“Ah, ah, ah,” Lilly scolds gently. “Let her play with it for a minute. You have plenty of other cars.”
He nods and quickly picks up a shiny, black Jeep replica, holding it out for me to inspect. I set my coffee down and accept the toy. “Damn, that’s heavier than it looks.”
“Open!” Chance points to the Jeep. I flick one of the doors and it opens.
“Very cool. Where’d you get that?” I lean down so I’m closer to his level. “I want one.”
He snatches it out of my hands.
“Chance,” Lilly warns.
“It’s okay,” I laugh.
“Auntie Trinity bought that for him,” Lilly explains. “Because he’s not spoiled enough.”
“It’s my duty to spoil all my niblets,” Trinity announces as she pushes through the swinging kitchen doors and heads our way.
Hope chuckles and sips her coffee. “I like niblets.”
“It’s just easier than nieces and nephews.” Trinity plunks a carton of half—and-half in the middle of the table.
While the girls are talking, Chance tiptoes toward Grace and snatches the car out of her hands.
Grace’s sweet face screws into a frown and she lets loose, howling for all she’s worth. It’d be funny as hell if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.
“Oh no.” Hope leans over and picks up her daughter, pulling her into her lap. “You’re okay.”
“Chance.” Lilly holds out her hand for the car. Chance looks at it, then Grace, then his mom. “Chance,” she prompts again.
Reluctantly, he hands it over.
“Jeep too.”
He huffs but gives up the Jeep. Then turns his big, sad eyes toward Trinity.
“Easy come, easy go, little man,” Trinity teases, shaking her head. “What Mom says, goes. Can’t help you out.”
Chance crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Lilly for a few seconds. Grace’s sniffles catch his attention, and he wanders over to her. “I sorry.”
Grace buries her head against Hope’s chest.
“I sorry!” Chance says louder.
Grace waves one little hand at him, in what I swear looks like the toddler equivalent of fuck off.
Hope laughs and pats her daughter’s back.
Z strides into the dining room and nods at me. “We’re about to go in.”
“Okay.”
“Daddy!” Chance shouts and runs over.
“Daddy isn’t going to give you a different answer,” Lilly mutters.
“Uh-oh, what’d you do now?” Z picks his son up, swinging him into his arms. “Tell me straight.”
Chance lays out his argument in a rush of garbled sounds. Z seems to understand every word out of his son’s mouth, though. He listens and nods along. Finally, Chance stops and stares at his dad for a verdict.
“Grace is little-er than you, buddy,” Z says. “You can share with her for a few minutes. She just wants to look, right?”
Chance frowns.
“Told you.” Lilly presses her hand to her mouth, trying to hide her laughter.
They’re both so calm and easygoing with their son. Hell, when I was a kid, I probably would’ve gotten smacked with one of the toys to teach me a lesson. Who am I kidding, my parents didn’t waste money on toys and shit.
My gaze slides to the kids again. Do I have the patience for parenting? Chance is cute and all, but I bet he’s a stubborn little shit. Will my temper and rigid attitude end up inflicting a lifetime of damage on a kid?
Serena’s sweet and calm. She’ll be a good mother. I can easily picture her sitting right next to the other women, waiting for us to finish church, and playing with the kids. Is that what she wants, though? Will she be happy doing that?
Fuck, I’m too old for this.
“You all right, old man?” Z says, curling his hand around my shoulder.
God damn, why am I an open book to this fucker? I shrug off Z’s question and spear him with a warning look. But his face remains impassive. He won’t say anything or share my troubles before I’m ready.
“I’m fine.”
While he and Lilly share a word, I say goodbye to the girls and head down to the war room. Seems like the perfect place to be considering the emotions at war inside of me.
Chapter Five
Grinder
As I enter the common area, Rock and Wrath emerge from their office with Murphy and Teller following behind.
Wrath unlocks the war room doors and opens them wide.
“All right, let’s get to business,” Rock says, ushering us inside with an impatient sweep of his hand.
“Seems like everyone was waitin’ on you, Prez,” I point out. A good verbal spar with Rock should help me shed the complicated feelings that followed me from the dining room.
He shoots a don’t-start stare my way. I respond with a smirk. Shaking his head, he slaps my back. “Thanks for coming up this early.”
“You call, I answer, brother. It’s time for me to step up and help my club when I’m needed.”
He pauses. Around us, brothers continue chattering, taking their sweet time. Rock pulls me out of the flow of traffic.
