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Beau doesn’t pretend to give two shits about the baby, but Blair’s very excited to be in charge of the bottle. While Rosemary gets that ready with the nine-year-old’s supervision, I watch Landry explain how Brooklyn and Beckett can help with the baby’s diaper.
Mostly, they hand her crap while she soothes the crying baby. Brigitte’s little face is tomato red by the time she’s wrapped back up and sucking on a bottle.
Naptime takes place in the living room. Woodrow and Rosemary bring pillows, blankets, and dolls. Landry crashes on the couch with Blair at the other end. Beau curls up on the floor near the lights. Bundled up Beckett and Brooklyn doze off in chairs. A sleeping Brigitte remains in her carrier. Leaning back in my chair, I assume everyone will soon fall off their weird perches, and the world will end.
Instead, I wake up later to find them helping Landry with the baby. Beau is sitting on the arm of my chair, leaning against me while looking at his block. I grin at how he’s getting attached to me. Landry’s gaze meets mine, and I know she’s thinking the same thing. Despite no one sleeping well, being together definitely soothed much of the pain from being separated last night.
To give Landry a break so she can cuddle with Brigitte and talk with Blair, I take the three middle kids out back. I’m in the process of practicing with Brooklyn’s baby doll when Ruin rolls up on his Fat Boy. He’s made his way around the house when Armor arrives.
“What?” I ask my president when he waves at the kids who only frown.
“I came to see the baby. Take pictures. Mention how proud I am of you.”
Narrowing my gaze, I mutter, “She’s sleeping.”
“I’ll tiptoe.”
“Landry’s enjoying cuddle time.”
Ruin loses his temper and gripes, “It’s like a single fucking minute. I let you see Joie when she was born.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Armor strolls over and studies the kids. When he notices Succotash at the windowpane, he shoots the cat a dirty look before focusing on Ruin.
“Did you tell him?” he asks our president.
“What?”
Ruin smirks. “Jakob’s dead.”
“Who?”
“The old fuck who was hassling Yazmin,” Armor growls before revealing a satisfied grin. “Died early this morning.”
“Did you do that?”
“No, Father Time did, dumbass,” Armor replies and then shrugs. “Or maybe you punching him did. Either way, he had two heart attacks. One at the school. Another one around midnight. The second one killed him.”
Glancing at the kids, I can’t view them as blood-related to those shitty Coppers fuck. In my head, they’re little bits of Landry. Not an ounce of loser in them.
“Is that going to come back on me?” I ask and yawn.
“Doubtful. The sheriff was seriously pissed yesterday, and you know he barely gives a shit about anything. Still, the lockdown at the school nearly drew national media attention to our county. He wasn’t looking to have anyone poking around his territory. So, as far as he’s concerned, the Coppers are enemy number one. The sheriff’s department is digging up any possible charges to send the family away.”
“I don’t want any of that trouble splashing on Landry or Blair.”
“No one messes with family,” Ruin says and glances at the kids. “I’m surprised Landry was discharged so soon.”
“The kids needed their mama,” I say, and Beckett shows me his toy as if sensing I’m talking about him. “Even with our guys watching us at the hospital, I couldn’t feel safe there.”
“The pull-out bed is bullshit, too,” Ruin says and frowns. “Meant for short people.”
The three of us consider the world from our viewpoint. We look down at most people. Our power puts us on a pedestal. However, we’re not unbreakable, especially once we open our hearts to other people. They’ll always be our weaknesses.
Later that night, long after her siblings are asleep, Brigitte watches me in between sucking at her bottle. This is our second attempt at a feeding. The first one freaked me out when Brigitte spit up and I thought she would choke to death. Landry had to take over. This time around, I don’t dare wake the exhausted mama from her sound sleep.
Tiptoeing isn’t easy for a man with my foot size. Yet, I get the bottle ready and change the tiny diaper, all while Brigitte whines and bitches and moans. I don’t blame her for hating her ass flapping in the wind. Once she’s in a clean diaper and a warm blanket is wrapped around her, she settles down for her second night outside her mama.
