Page 183 of Broken Bonds
“I’m not opposed, but that’s not my priority. Talk to Alizée and get her opinion. Once they’re all safely here, then we can discuss what’s next. Coordinate it with her and take action as she dictates. Pack will cover it.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a note. When he finishes, he slides it back in his pocket. He’s wearing a sidearm—as are all the sentries—and all sentries on duty will also carry long guns, now that the first group is here.
“Jax, when I think what those poor kids have suffered, it makes me want to kill Sterling myself.”
“Get in line, Chaz. It’s a long one.”
Pops and Dad leave their RV at the rec center and follow me home in their SUV they tow behind it. They’re not staying with us tonight; they’ll return to the RV. Tomorrow, they’ll move into one of the larger guest houses. Shawn and I live in what was their house before they started traveling in the RV. The times they’ve visited since then they’ve either stayed with us or in one of the guest houses, depending on the circumstances.
I offered for them to stay with us, but I suspect they want a couple of nights of privacy now that they’re child-free for a little while.
I texted Shawn when they arrived in the compound. When we arrive home, the lights are on and we walk in to the smell of something delicious baking.
Dad practically shoves Pops out of the way and nearly tackles Shawn in a bear hug. “Oh my god! You finally got Jax off his ass!” Despite Dad’s obvious exhaustion, his joy is palpable and fills the room. “I can’t believe I finally get a grandpup!”
Shawn meets my gaze and I shrug, leaving the decision up to him.
He manages to untangle himself from Dad. “Well, you’re not getting a grandpup.”
Dad’s face falls. “What? Oh, no?—”
Shawn holds up two fingers. “You’re getting grandpups, plural.”
“We—” His jaw snaps shut. “Two? TWINS?” he screams. He grabs Shawn again and lifts him off the floor, spinning him around.
Pops drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Congratulations, son.” He smiles. “You realize we can’t leave now, right?”
“Fuck you, Mike,” Dad says. “You can leave if you want, but I want grandpups! I’ve waited thirty-two years for this, and I’m fucking enjoying it.”
Pops roars with laughter. “You do remember we have two sons we need to retrieve from Owen, right? Who happens to be one of our other sons?”
Dad finally stops hugging Shawn and swoops over to hug me. “They’re fine,” Dad says. “Besides, they’re not babies. We’ll have a hard time getting them back, anyway. Lately, they’ve been grumbling about living in the RV, you know. Wondering when they get to come back to Florida. And it’s not like we have much private time when they’re around.”
“That’s TMI, Dad,” I tease.
“Well, obviously you already know how pups are made,” he shoots back.
“Too well,” Shawn snarks.
“Overachiever,” Pops says, grinning.
Despite acting chill, I know he’s as excited as Dad over this development. If Pops was still the pack Alpha, Dad would never have talked to him like this unless they were alone. Not even in front of us kids.
But they’ve both mellowed. With Pops no longer carrying the entire weight of the pack’s safety on his shoulders, it’s brought out a playful side of him.
The Ocala Pack was still relatively young, not even forty-five years old, when I was born sixty-two years ago. It wasn’t even a quarter the size it is now, in population or in geographical size.
Despite being Alphas, my next younger brothers, Owen, Kevin, and Edward, never wanted to take over the role of pack Alpha. So I was the double-default heir to the position, both by being the eldest child and the only Alpha son stupid enough to agree to do it.
I didn’t grow up with everyone assuming I was the “default choice” to become pack Alpha. To be honest, no one—including me—thought Pops would choose to hand it over as soon as he did. Hell, no one could imagine Mike Crow ever taking a day off, much less taking a knee to his eldest son. Not when he was the one who started the pack from scratch. I honestly think Dad talked him into it after they had Edward. Four Alpha sons meant Pops could tap at least one of us to take over. Dad always wanted a big family, and it wouldn’t shock me if they have more pups.
If anyone can talk Pops into something, it’s Dad. When I was growing up, Pops ran the pack, and Dad ran our home, in addition to helping Pops.
The oven timer goes off, and Shawn pulls the six pans of muffins he made out of the oven. Cranberry, blueberry, and banana nut.
“You didn’t have to go through that trouble for us,” Pops says when he finally gets to hug Shawn.
“Well, I was starving,” he admits. Figured might as well be productive if I’m awake.”
