Page 84 of Iron Hearts

Of course, I was hoping by the time things came to light and the air was cleared, it wouldn’t matter anymore – you know? I just really hoped that she could and would give him a chance.

“Take me to your toilet dragon’s lair,” he said and I laughed a little and shook my head.

“This way,” I told him.

We passed the kitchen on the left on the way to the boys’ bathroom, and Mom glanced over her shoulder at the sink. The boys were in their room on a major time out.

“Hey!” my mom called out. “Hope you like steak and shrimp – dinner is the least I can do for these little monsters fucking up your evening plans.”

“It’s no problem,” Striker said, grinning at her. “I’m happy to help.”

She nodded but was pretty wholly absorbed in her grill prep at the sink.

“This way,” I said and ushered him quickly down the hall. I touched the boys’ bedroom door and said, “Boy’s room,” and went up the hall a few more steps and touched the opposite door just down from theirs giving it a little shove open, “The dragon’s lair.”

Striker laughed and slid past me into the bathroom, “Go do whatever your mom needs help with for dinner, fair Princess,” he said using his pet name for me and giving me a wink after raising his sunglasses on the top of his head. “I’ll slay this dragon.”

I grinned and shook my head and couldn’t help myself, laughing with him.

“Be brave my valiant knight,” I leaned down and smacked a kiss on his lips and he set his tool belt down and started his explorations of the problem.

I went back out to the kitchen and quietly started picking out three good sized potatoes and three little ones for the boys. When Mom grilled, everyone liked her baked potatoes to go with things.

The boys liked steak, but they wouldn’t be getting any. Mom was making them teriyaki chicken breast instead. You didn’t get steak for acting like little buttholes – plus, steak was expensive and these had been on sale which is the only reason she’d snatched them and there were only three in the pack.

Striker was in there earning his steak for sure right now, the boys could deal with chicken. It wouldn’t kill them, and yet I still felt bad for them.

Mom’s steak was just that good.

“Don’t forget to butter and salt crust those before you wrap them,” my mom said as she coated the chicken breasts with marinade.

“Did you want me to even make the boys up potatoes, or did you want me to get the rice cooker going for them?” I asked.

She stopped and thought about it, and said, “You know what? Rice cooker – no potatoes for them tonight.”

Eek, Mom wasreallymiffed.

“Okay.” I didn’t even try to argue on their behalf. They’d pretty much done it all today. Hitting, kicking, cussing, throwing things at each other, flushing things down the toilet – and just generally being destructive little dicks.

Terroristic tots had replaced my sweet angel babies today, and it seriously felt like only a goddamn exorcism would bring them back.

“Have they been quiet?” our mom asked and I froze.

“Shit,” I said.

“Fuck,” she echoed and she went.

A moment later I heard her, “Oh, my God!” and when the cryinginstantlystarted, I knew it was bad.

“Need help?” I called.

“No!” she hollered back andswat!There went one of them screaming at the top of his lungs.

Well, shit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I heard Striker holler – “Just what did you get into little man?” and the chaos just burbled over from there.

I abandoned my prep work with a heavy sigh and went to see what was going on now and Jesus Christ!

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