Page 5 of Chasing Bandit

That weekend…

“You’re pregnant!?” Stevie screeched so loudly my ears instantly started ringing. I rubbed them extra dramatically, hoping to annoy her. She shot daggers in my direction as Jovie motioned for her to keep quiet.

Success.

“Mom and Rig don’t know yet, so please keep it between us until I’m further along.”

Stevie nodded aggressively, her big round blonde curls bobbing back and forth. She reached for her sister and pulled her in for a hug while I hugged Nash and then squeezed my future sister-in-law.

“Happy to be promoted to Uncle Wylie,” I said with a smile.

“When do you find out the gender?” Stevie stage whispered.

“We already know…” Jovie turned her big green doe eyes to Nash’s with a look of adoration that made me want to throw up. “They are boys – we’re having twins.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Stevie screamed again.

“Guess I don’t need my hearing,” I grumbled as Stevie shoved me while simultaneously hugging her sister excitedly.

“Okay, okay, okay we have to be quiet about this. It’s really early,” Jovie laughed, but I could tell she was genuinely happy, and so was my brother, which automatically meant I was too.

“Congrats, JoJo. I’m happy for you two and can’t wait to meet the little rugrats who’ll be tearing up Ashwood Ranch next year.”

Nash and Jovie smiled at each other again. “Okay, there’s one more thing. The only reason we’re telling you two now is because we have something to ask.”

Fuck. I knew where this was headed before the words even came out.

“We want you two to be their godparents.”

“No,” I deadpanned at the same time as Stevie screamed, “Yes!”

Nash’s eyes narrowed at my response as a displeased look crossed his face. Stevie spun toward me, hands on her hips as if she was ready to tear into me.

“I don’t mean ‘no’ as in I don’t want to be their godfather, just not with her.” I gestured my thumb towards the woman who was practically bursting with anger and excitement at becoming an aunt. The last thing I needed was more reasons to be tethered to Stevie Vector.

She rolled her eyes and let out a cackle. “Fine with me. They’ll like me better anyway.”

“Now that’s laughable.”

“What are you going to teach them? How to cuss and shoot shit?” She shot back.

I shrugged, “’shooting shit’ is a skill that they’ll need to learn if they are going to be raised on a ranch and I’d reckon so is cussing.”

Nash and Jovie looked at each other before turning back to us again. “Just think about it, Wylie. We know it’s a lot to ask, but we’d really like for them to have both of you as their godparents. You’re so important to us and we know you'll pour yourself into them with love and attention. If you decide that it’s not for you, we’ll ask Clay, of course.”

No fucking way Clay is going to be a better godfather than me.

“Sure,” I tapped my foot impatiently. “We good to get back to the party now?”

They nodded as I turned back to the kitchen in Cameron ranch, poured myself a glass of Jim Beam, and swiped a hotdog and bun from the platter that was sitting out. My dad had insisted on throwing this barbecue today to celebrate Nash and Jovie’s recent engagement and Ms. Vector’s visit back to Lonestar Junction.

I stepped onto the deck where Clay, Savannah, my dad, Ms. Vector, Stevie, Nash, and Jovie were already gathered, chatting, and listening to music while enjoying their meal. As I joined the group, my dad caught my eye, paused the music, and clapped his hands loudly to get everyone's attention.

“Alright, now that we're all gathered, I wanted to say a few things to the Vector and Cameron families.”

He stood up, holding a can of O’Doul’s non-alcoholic beer in one of his large hands, a warm smile spreading across his face as he looked at our group. My dad had quit drinking a few years before my mom passed away, and despite the challenges he’d faced and the heartbreak of losing her, he’d maintained his sobriety. I had to give him credit. I don’t think I could have been sober it if I’d lost the love of my life slowly and painfully to cancer, especially while dealing with three hot-headed sons.

I sank down into the last empty chair next to Clay, who clinked his glass with mine in a mock cheer.

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