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"They're adults. They can take care of themselves."
"Most of the time, yes. But Micah is worried. He's been fixating on everything that could go wrong with the birth. Because I love him, I want to help him. So I'm learning everything I can before the birth so I can be calm for him. Is that such a difficult concept for you? You more than anyone should understand."
John's eyes widen. "Why the fuck would I understand?" I know exactly where Jonas is going with this, and honestly, I'm a little surprised John doesn't.
"Because you went to prison for your brother. What do you call that, if not love?"
John pushes back from the table and rests his elbows on his knees. "I call it fucking stupidity."
Jonas nods. "Oh yes, it was stupid. No question. It was poorly thought out, illogical, but in the end, you did it for love. Because you love Colton and didn't want anything bad to happen to him."
"Colton's blood. Micah isn't your blood." John says, glaring at Jonas. Why is he fighting against the idea of love coming with responsibility?
Jonas folds his hands on the table, and pins John with a look of absolute confidence. "Zach is my blood. I love him. I would do anything for him. When we first joined Ransom, that loyalty was only for Zach. But slowly, all of my brothers earned a place in my heart. There's still more room in there, for their wives and their children. It is easier not to love people. For me, love comes with worry. But I still would rather have all these people in my life than be alone. Do you not feel the same? I thought you might, since you're here."
"I'm here because I didn't have anywhere else to go," John says flatly.
"That's not quite true, is it?" I say quietly. "You have eighty million options in your bank account. You can do whatever the fuck you want. But you're still here."
John's lips curl into a sneer. "You want me to go? I can walk out that door and never bother you again?"
Jonas sighs heavily. "You are acting defensive and about to talk yourself out of here. And I don't think you actually want to go. You like it here. You like being near Colton. You are trying to build a life. Don't ruin it by being prideful."
"Prideful," John says, laughing in disbelief. "I've pissed in front of someone for twenty years. Every minute of my life was decided for me. I don't have any fucking pride left."
"Sure you do," I say, mindful of Bree's eyes on our exchange. "You were a tough motherfucker in there. You were someone respected and feared. Now that you're out here you've lost your footing. You can't pave your way now the same way you did in there. It's not about intimidation or jockeying for position out here."
"But it sort of is," Bree says quietly. We all turn to her. There's a tick in John's cheek, making it obvious how badly he hates her seeing this. "We all jockey for position at work. But we do it in families too. We fall into a pattern, especially with siblings. There's the successful one, or the athletic one, the disappointment and the favorite." She looks from Jonas to me. "You guys have been together for so long, you all have your roles in the family. I don't think you realize how tight you all are. I've seen you guys finish each other's sentences more than once. I watched Kade and Zach have a conversation once that, honestly, still leaves me baffled. Kade would start a sentence, and before it was even finished, Zach was answering. It gave me a headache to watch it. But I get it. Cara and I have enough history behind us that we can do the same."
"You're right," I say, settling back in my chair. "We are tight. And even if we've told you that you're welcome here, you're still the new guy."
John sighs and leans against the counter, rubbing the back of his head. It's something I've seen Colton do as long as I've known him, and it drives home to me how badly this could go if he walks away. Colton would be devastated. I'm mentally lining up my arguments for him to stay as he breathes, staring over our heads at the wall.
"I haven't been the new guy in twenty years," he says, still not looking at us. "I don't fucking know what I'm doing."
I nod, because when he puts it like that, it's terrifying. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that might help. "I don't know what it's like to be the new guy either. I found my family a long time ago. I don't know how I'd handle it if I were in your position. Actually, I do know. I would probably have a shit fit and go sulk on a beach somewhere."
He raises an eyebrow. "A shit fit?"
"Yeah. I can get a little pissy sometimes." It's true, but usually it's over where to eat for dinner or what movie to watch. When it comes to the big stuff, I'm the coolest, calmest version of me.
"I don't know what to do with my days," he says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I knew who I was behind bars. I knew my worth, which was pretty damn worthless, and I knew exactly where I fell in the fucking pecking order. Now, I'm on the outside of this group of people who don't need or want me around."
He's wrong, but I get where he's coming from. The feelings are running deep. This is a time to tread carefully.
"You are being stupid," Jonas says flatly.
Or we say 'fuck treading carefully' and do that.
I shoot Jonas a look, and he gives me one back, making it clear he's uninterested in letting me smooth things over.
"You are welcome here, because you are here. If we didn't want you, there are many ways we could have gotten you out of our lives. We didn't have to fight for you to get out of prison. You were on the verge of doing something asinine and getting time added to your sentence. We could have let that happen. But we didn't. We did everything we could to make sure you got out, and got a second chance at life." He stands, taking his empty plate to the kitchen, then peeks into the fridge. "Is it ready, do you think?"
John, looking like he's trying to swallow a frog, nods and clears his throat. "Yeah. It's just instant pudding mix and whipped cream. It firms up pretty quick."
Jonas grins happily, and rubs his hands together, diving into the fridge for the big bowl. I'm mostly watching him, making sure he gets a bowl for all of us out of the cupboard, but I keep John in the corner of my eye. "You have a place here. This is it. Maybe it's a good thing in your eyes. Maybe not. But every single one of us are desperate to be in your kitchen. We want anything you're willing to make. And I know it can feel like we have our own language, and we do, but we're not trying to exclude you. Jonas is right. We don't operate that way. We let you in, so you're in. Eventually, it'll be like you've always been with us. But we've had years to build a rhythm. Eventually, you'll be sucked into our vortex and become one of us. It's inevitable."
John finally cracks a smile as Jonas places four large bowls, spoons and the big bowl of chocolate mousse on the table. What were we talking about? All words are gone. All I can focus on is the chocolate smell wafting out of the bowl.
