Page 112 of Lockout

“Last time you went barefoot I was digging cholla out of your feet for weeks,” Keely told them. “Shoes. Now.”

“Fine,” they said as they dashed away from the table.

She gave me an accusatory glance. “That was you,” she said, echoing my words to our daughter. “We had twins because of you.”

I chuckled. “That’s not a twin thing. It’s a boy thing. Trying to keep them clothed and from killing themselves is a full-time job.”

“A truer statement has never been spoken,” she sighed. “Go on down with them. I’ll bring the girls after they’ve finished.”

I stood up, kissed the top of her head, then followed my sons downstairs. They sounded like a herd of rhinos on the stairs, but I didn’t try to quiet them. Soon enough they’d be outside with everyone else.

Kids and dogs were everywhere. The kids ranged in ages from a few months to sixteen—which was Taylor. How the hell there were teenagers running around here, when those kids were all just as old as Bay the last time I looked, would forever baffle me. Taylor, Dex, and Sean were all driving now. Which was horrifying enough but soon Cassie, Caitlyn, and Tori’s son Dylan would be too.

These kids were growing up too damn fast. Toxic and Billie’s sons, Wyatt and Waylon rushed past to join the flock of kids over by the playground equipment.

A hand tugged at my jeans and I swung Jeanie—Idaho’s middle child at three—up into my arms. “Hi,” I said.

She ducked her head, smiling at me. She rested her head on my shoulder, content to watch the other kids play.

“I think she likes you more than me,” Idaho complained as he walked up with Carter, one of his six-month-old twin boys.

“No wonder why,” I told him. “I’m better.”

“Fuck off,” Idaho muttered, but he was grinning.

“Language,” Eva told him, walking up with their other boy, Elliot. Anders, their oldest, went to join the mob of children on the playground.

“These kids are growing up in a motorcycle clubhouse,” Toxic said with a grin. “If they can’t handle some bad words, we’re all going to be in deep shit.”

Eva sighed and shook her head. She and Billie walked off to go hang out with the other women, who were perched on the picnic tables near the kids.

“Been a bit since we all managed to get out here,” Ricochet said, walking up with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His daughters Reece and Ryan were playing in the sandbox. Well, Reece was playing. Ryan was shoving fistfuls of sand into her mouth as fast as she could before Jordan managed to stop her.

Static and Gwen’s younger crew went running past, chasing each other. They had five total now. Hush and Seek had two, Sawyer and Tucker. But it was Riptide and Sloane who were giving Priest and Jenny a run for their money. Rip and Sloane had six kids now and I wasn’t sure they were planning to stop anytime soon.

Being a mother suited Sloane like nothing else. She was amazing. All these women were. They’d banded together throughout the years and the fact that we had social, thriving, caring kids was all because of them.

There was a time in my life when, if you’d told me this was where we’d all end up, I’d have laughed my ass off. Just picturing Butcher with kids would have made me think it was a lie. But fuck… We were pretty good at this parenting thing. Even us guys.

I turned as Toxic nudged me and watched Butcher walk up. He looked like shit. Pretty much the same look we all had with newborns. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I told him.

“Isla wanted to hang out with everyone,” he growled out as his wife gingerly picked her way across the lawn to the others. She took Cove from Sloane with a grateful smile.

For a woman who worried she wouldn’t fit in, Isla had found her place amongst us. We were like a stopping ground for peoplewith nowhere to go, and I was just fine with that. This was my family. I’d kill for it. Die for it. And no one would rip us apart.

Toxic and Butcher went over to set up the slip-n-slide, after much pleading from the kids. I shook my head as the two men ended up in a water fight with the majority of the older children. The shorts Butcher had tossed on sagged down enough that you could see the top half of his tattoo.

“Figured he would have gotten that lasered off by now,” Hush said with a chuckle.

“You kidding?” I said with a laugh. “He wears it like a badge of pride. Fuck, if Isla and Billie hadn’t come along those two probably would have grown old together as bachelors.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard the story about how Butcher ended up with Toxic’s name on his ass,” Idaho said with a laugh.

“Inside a heart,” Static added as he walked up.

“Typical story,” Riptide said.

“They were drunk,” we all said in unison.

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