Page 18 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

It was nice to meet the women. They’re nice. “Where’s the kitchen?” I ask my son.

“You cooking me an after-midnight snack?”

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

He waggles his bottom lip in a move that’s made me laugh his whole life. “But they have stuff for nachos.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that to begin with?”

As he’d been doing his entire life until he took off, Waite joins me in the kitchen as my sous chef to expedite the making of my homemade nachos. Once they’re done, we sit at the bar eating the nachos and drinking Cokes until I, at least, can’t shove one more bite in my mouth.

“Think I’m calling it a night—or morning, as it were, hon.” I stand from my stool, kiss the top of his head, and move to pick up the mess.

“Don’t worry about this, Mom. I’ll take care of it.”

I press the back of my hand to his forehead to check for a fever. “No fever,” I say, then, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

He chuckles, shoving my hand away. “I’m trying to become a member. If I leave shit sitting around, what chance do I have?”

Fair enough.

“Just do me a favor,” I say, running my hand down the back of his hair and leaving it to rest on his neck.

“Anything. What?”

“Really give this the thought it deserves. I know it seems like an exciting life, but a young guy losthisearlier. If you… I couldn’t…”

“Mom, all I’ve been doing is thinking about this. You have to trust me. It’s not about drinking and screwing women. It’s about knowing that I’ll always have brothers at my back. No matter what, these men will be my family. College wasn’t for me. And fuck if I’m joining the military. I need my freedom. I don’t know why, but becoming a Horde just makes sense.”

“I—” I have to clear my throat from the thickness of tears starting to collect there. “I love you, Waite.”

“Love you, too, Mom. No body more.”

Okay. It’s beddy-bye time for this mama before I turn into a blubbering mess. Giving in, I kiss his cheek and then head back to Rough’s bedroom.

Though between the somewhat lumpy mattress and it being a strange room that I don’t wholly feel like I belong in, sleep comes hard. Way too hard. At least it finally comes, although I don’t know what time. What I do know is that Rough’s side is still empty when I wake up. No indent on his pillow. His side is cold.

After showering, I slip on some clothes from the bag I brought with me from Rough’s house and go searching out coffee. I need coffee. Coffee is love, coffee is life. Isn’t that what they say?

Well, I don’t even know who “they” are. I say it, though, on the daily.

More women fill the stools along the bar this morning. All appear to be sipping on steaming beverages. Bless their hearts.

“That wouldn’t be coffee, by any chance?” I ask, finishing under my breath with, “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, let it be coffee.”

A gorgeous woman, dark hair, shapely, turns to the sound of my voice and she smiles at me. “You must be Gia,” she says.

“I am. And who might you be?”

She squeals. She literally squeals before rushing me and scooping me up into a giant bear hug. “I’m your sister-in-law.”

“My sister-in-law?”

As she nods, I try to twist away from her to give us a bit of room between our bodies. “Daniel’s married?”

“He didn’t tell you? We have a son, too.”

“He hasn’t told me much. He mostly yelled at me.”

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