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“Okay, good.” I murmured, not really sure what to say. “It’s cold out here.”
“I’ll turn on the truck,” Otto replied quickly, walking away so he could climb in the driver’s side.
“Can’t believe you’ve been livin’ in there,” Mick said, looking over at me.
“You get used to it,” I replied with a shrug, my cheeks burning. “It’s really not so bad. Whoever built it did a good job.”
“You—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off as the other older guy came stomping toward us.
“Mouth and one of his guys are on the way.”
“Fuck,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “I thought he and Ceecee had headed south already.”
“Tomorrow,” the older man replied.
“Good timin’.”
“I’m Will,” the older guy said to me. “That bozo’s uncle.”
I looked between Tommy and Will suddenly understanding the weird genetics they had going on in their family. Will was as big as Micky and Otto, while his dad and brother Rumi were a bit shorter and about half as wide. Very strange.
“He took all the food when we were kids,” Tommy joked, correctly interpreting my look.
“Fuck you,” Will replied with a chuckle.
I’d gone to public school and had probably heard every swear word there was, but their casual use of them was a little disconcerting. I ignored it. The truck was running with the heater going full blast, but it was still a little chilly with my door open. Zipping the front of my jacket all the way to my chin, I pulled the hood up, too.
“Someone’s been out here, choppin’ wood,” Otto’s brother Rumi said with a scowl, walking toward us.
Timidly, I raised my hand. “Uh, that was me.”
Rumi did a double take. “Say what?”
“I chopped the wood,” I clarified, nodding toward the side of the cabin. “Well, most of it. There’s about three rows at the bottom that were here when I moved in.”
“That stack is as tall as I am,” he replied flatly.
I shrugged. “I’ve been here a while.”
“Bullshit.”
“There’s not a lot to do.”
“You’re tellin’ me that you chopped all that wood?”
“That’s what I said.”
“By yourself?”
“Do you see anyone else here?” I was starting to get a little irritated by that point. My mind was hopping from one thing to another. I was sitting in some random truck, the father of my child that I’d only talked totwicewas sitting behind me, there was some kind ofbombin my cabin, and he was questioning me aboutfirewood?
“Think we should keep an eye out for whoever else is living here,” Rumi said, dismissing me as he looked at his dad. “They gotta come home at some point.”
“Are you joking?” I asked under my breath.
“Enough, Rumi,” Otto barked.
