Page 33 of Desired

“I can handle that.” Colton states.

We go on for another couple of hours, hashing out other, smaller issues, and agree to meet again in a couple of days. Da and I head over to meet Maverick, Malcolm and Ethan, at another meeting, and I feel like my head is going to explode after that. Da sees that all of us are looking burned out, so we head to dinner at his place. I catch myself glancing at Moira’s text message that I failed to respond to, and da sees me. “What’s the trouble, son?”

It takes me a moment to respond to him, trying to figure out the right words, since I’m at a loss myself. “She doesn’t want me to accompany her to Scotland.”

“Ah.” Da says, and I’m shocked, since he apparently didn’t see that coming, either.

Maverick overhears. “So, tell her you want to go, anyway. Fight her on it, man.”

“Are you nuts?” Ethan whines. “Just...go with her, don’t fight her. She’s probably just thinking that you’re busy and don’t need to be bothered with any of her shit. That’s the way women work.”

“He’s right. If I didn’t go and see Gretchen every chance I got, I’d never know if she needed anything. Women, good women, don’t take men for granted, and they’re independent. Same as Moira. She’s put herself through medical school, regardless of the circumstances with her money, she did it herself, with no support from her family.”

“She has her cousin Steph, and her family. Perhaps she just wants to lean on them and leave me out of this.” I counter.

“Only you know the truth, Declan.” Da argues. “Unless you want to spread that around, which will only lead you to trouble, you’re the best one to take her there and protect her.”

“What if she doesn’t need to be protected.” Maverick says, deadpan. “What if she’s already got her shit together and she doesn’t need this dumb fuck coming with her and fucking it up.”

I rise and dart to him. “What the fuck’s your problem, asshole!” I shout, spittle flying out of my mouth. He meets me halfway, ready to fight me with every bone in his body, same as me. What prompted this outburst from him is beyond me, but I’m sick of his shit. I’m sick of his fucking meddling, and he needs a black eye to see that. Da lifts off the chair quickly and stands between us. “Declan! Maverick! Enough!”

“What the hell is your problem?!” I shout at Maverick. “First you get me in shit with her and with da, and now this?”

Maverick pretends to dust off his shirt, adjusting himself, and he sits back down. “Fuckoff, asshole.” He seethes.

Da looks at him. “Maverick, what has gotten into you, hm? Why are you creating such a problem, son?”

He shakes his head, looking out the window, where I can see mama chatting with one of the landscapers. I had no idea that she was home, but she seems to be handing this guy his ass. No idea where Maverick gets it from. We’re all hot-tempered in this family. “Fuck.” He says. “I’m just pissed off. Sick of all this shit. Sick of it all.”

Da walks over to the bar and pours two highballs of whiskey. He brings one over to Maverick and gives him a look that says he better down it, or else. With one fell swoop, my brother tosses the drink back, and just when I think that the second glass is for da, he hands it to Maverick, and watches him toss that one back, too. “There.” Da says, satisfied. “It’s been a long time since us men did that, hm? It’s high time we had some drinks together and blew off some steam.”

“Da, that isn’t the answer here, and you know it.” I counter. “Maverick’s got his panties in a wad over something, and he’s hell bent on getting a new one torn for me somehow.”

I watch him drag a hand through his hair as the brown liquid starts to move around in his bloodstream. He scoffs a laugh. “You’re the easiest target, man. I can’t help it.”

With that comment, da rises again, goes to the bar, and pours another glass, which he hands to me, giving me the same look he gave Maverick a moment ago. In our family, the worst battles are worked through with one of two things: either beating the shit out of each other or drinking until we’re all so hammered we don’t remember what the fuck we were fighting about in the first place, and da is the one that usually makes the call on which method is best. It seems that matters of the heart are best dealt with with drink. I toss the whiskey back and wince as it burns all the way down.

Maverick watches me and after I finish grimacing, he and I look at each other, and laugh. “So, what’s the deal, man? Can’t handle being in love?” I tease, feeling the whiskey hit my veins.

“Na, I can’t handle usbothbeing in love.” He counters.

“Ah, that’s my boys.” Da says, pleased, as mama walks in. He smiles and goes to her, as I watch them kiss sweetly.

“My dear, how is the gardener doing?” Da asks, holding her close to him.

“Good. Now that I’ve laid into him.” She answers, looking at me and Maverick, likely noticing that we’re both drinking. “I see that you’ve laid into our boys, too.”

“Ah, love, it’s nothing a shot of whiskey can’t handle.” He kisses her on the mouth again.

“And the Ford boys sorted themselves today?” She asks directly.

“Aye.” He nods, looking at her the way that he always looks at her when he holds her close like that.

“Mama, you need any of us to lay into anyone, just let us know.” Ethan states, sucking up, walking to her for a kiss.

She kisses him back sweetly, releasing da, and gives him a hug. “Where’s Peg, mama?” Caleb asks.

“She and Laney are asleep. Poor Peg is coming down with a cold, so I sent them to bed with the humidifier.”

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