Page 9 of Scotch: Unraveled

I don’t know what to say. Like Trisha said yesterday, this is the brotherhood. The reason we join the club. They have my back. Instead of getting sentimental, I tell him, “There’s this beautiful blue with white trim and a big-as-shite wrapper porch I have my eye on.”

“That one’s occupied.” He chuckles. Don’t think I ever heard the man chuckle once in all the years I’d known him before Caity came along.

“Thanks,” I tell him with sincerity.

“Right,” Caity says. “We have a sitter and I plan on taking full advantage of my husband before the clock strikes midnight and I turn back into a mom. Kids have this uncanny ability to know exactly when you begin to fool around, and that’s the exact time they need a drink, have a tummy ache or had a bad dream.”

She tugs on Duke’s arm.

“Night, brother. It seems I gotta go fuck my wife now.” He kisses her and traces his hand down from her cheek to grasp hers. They walk out, leaving me alone with an airing-out, naked-bummed Macie.

“Ya wouldn’t do that to yar old man, would ya now?” I ask, whispering because she looks to be falling asleep.

She smiles at me and I know this wee lass means to be trouble.

Sunday, I pick a nice three-bedroom with yellow siding and white trim for us. Unlike the other temporary singlewides we use when we have to bring families onto the compound for protection or whatever, this one has a small porch rather than a simple stoop and sits the closest to Duke and Caity’s.

There’s an ugly old sleeper sofa in the living room. Brown and orange flowers printed on whatever prickly fabric they covered sofas in back in the seventies—so whomever left it must have bought the thing at a yard sale. A wooden table with four mismatched chairs between the living room and kitchen, a few plates, mugs and flatware in the cupboards. Other than that, I had my work cut out for me. But at least in here the lasses won’t see something their innocent eyes shouldn’t witness.

Sunday night the little ones and I camp on the living room floor since we lack any baby bedding and I don’t want them rolling off the sofa sleeper bed to the floor.

We spent the morning cleaning the carpet, of all things, so they could roll around.

Bright and early Monday morning, I borrow Duke’s truck to take ’em to daycare. My truck, the one that I bought the day Mollie and Macie came to live with me, just came in. The lot didn’t have any extended cabs, which meant I had to order it.

Macie goes back to crying about the time I hook her in her car seat. I’ve fed her, changed her, and still, she cries.

My head is pounding when I bring my girls in and drop the bag on the desk. Frankie walks up to greet us because they’re in her room.

She checks the bag. “You don’t have enough diapers in here to last the day.” Her tone couldn’t be considered anything other than biting. I couldalmostdeal with the biting tone getting to see her with her hair up in a messy bun, wisps of loose strands framing her face, and in that tight, white T-shirt showing off a hint of skin—one of my favorite places to put my lips when we’d messed around. She was so sensitive there…

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck me.”

“Don’t curse in here. The children.”

“Ya know what—” I start but stop myself. She’s right. “I’m sorry. Macie’s favorite pastime is crying. We moved into a place yesterday, but they don’t even have cribs yet, so I had to sleep on the floor with ’em.”

“You hate sleeping on the floor. Your sinuses.”

I fucking can’t believe she remembered that after all these years.

“My head’s killing me. I have to pick up my truck and then I need to sort out a nursery. I didn’t even know I was allowed to touch their bums to clean them off during diaper changing until Saturday when Duke and Caity set me straight. I’d been finding women to do it for me.”

She throws her head back to laugh. The sound hurts my head thanks to my headache but I refuse to tell her because it’s a glorious sound I haven’t heard in too long.

Frankie always had the best laugh. I heard her laugh before I ever saw her throwing darts in a bar. Badly. It gave me the perfect excuse to go talk to her.

“I’m just so fucking—sorry—freaking overwhelmed here.”

“Doesn’t their mother help out?”

“No mother involved. Yar about to think I’m a major dick. But the first day I brought them in here was the first day I met them.”

She furrows her sexy—no, don’t think of her as sexy—her brow, her confusion clear. Sheissexy and I’ve missed her. Best fuck of my life. But more than that, I never felt so good about myself as when I was with her. It took a whole brotherhood to give me only part of what this one woman offered—until she took it away.

“Here’s the worst of it. Their mother showed up at the compound, and I didn’t recognize her. I got a one-night stand pregnant. I mean, I didn’t even remember her name.”

She folds her arms over her chest, shifting on her hip, clenching her jaw, pursing her kissable lips. A shame because it’s a real judgmental pose and I want nothing more shove my tongue in her mouth. It’s her eyes though, they don’t match the rest of her. If I have to guess—I’ll guessrelief. “You’re right—that’s a dick move,” she says. Though I feel like her eyes are giving me my in. And I plan on taking it. One more night with Frankie, how often had I dreamed of that?

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