Kicking the door open, he hit Casten with it. “Whoa, don’t aim that thing at me,” Casten told him, his laughter heard throughout the dark parking lot.
While they argued and Rager threw the keys in the gravel next to the trailer, I yanked my shorts up and righted my shirt. Fanning my face, I drew in a deep breath, my smile instant.
Exiting the trailer, I locked it back up and then headed toward our motor home after Rager got it hooked up. Casten eventually found the keys and told everyone in the parking lot waiting on us that Rager and I were in the T-shirt trailer fucking. Rager wasn’t pleased with him, but he wasn’t happy with my brother most nights. At least he and Axel got along.
Before we got inside the motor home to leave, Rager yanked me into his chest. “Thank you. You don’t know how badly I needed that.”
My back met the door, the warm metal soothing. “Probably as much as you needed that win.”
His lips met the curve of my neck and one hand squeezed my ass. “I’m pretty sure I needed this more.”
I had to agree. Though I hadn’t been in victory lane with him and our time in the trailer had been quick, it was amazing what those five minutes did for us. And I was thankful for it because the moment we entered the motor home, Knox was wide awake and ready to party.
Fucking three-year-olds. They could never get their sleep schedules under control.
“Daddy!” He lunged himself at Rager as he sat in the driver seat.
Rager caught him, holding him to his chest, as if he’d been waiting all day for a hug from his son. His eyes closed, a smile ghosting his lips. “Hey, Naughty Knox.”
Knox straddled his lap between his chest and the steering wheel. “Did you win?”
Rager pulled back, winking at our little boy. “I did. You proud of me?”
“I love you” was Knox’s answer. My heart melted. Though he’d certainly got the nick name Naughty Knox for a reason, he had a sweet side that he usually reserved for Rager.
Knox disappeared into the back when we started up the motor home. Rosa surfaced, a bag of chips in one hand and White Claw in the other. She leaned in between the two seats where we were seated and smiled. “Heard you two were fuckin’ in the trailer.”
Rager refused to acknowledge her, his eyes on Casten’s motor home in front of us, the brake lights casting his face in a red glow.
“How do you know about that? You’ve been sleeping the entire time.”
“I have cameras in there.”
Rager’s head snapped her direction. “Are you serious?”
“No. But I think I might now. I didn’t realize there’d be action in there.” And then she made a clawing motion at him. “Ray-grrrrr.”
“Keep it up and I’m going to make you ride with Casten again.”
That shut her up immediately. She couldn’t stomach his driving, or Hayden. They certainly tolerated each other, but I couldn’t say they were good friends.
As we merged onto the highway that night, in between a million trips to check on the kids, I settled into my seat for the two-hour drive to Santa Cruz where we planned on staying for a few days before we needed to be in Watsonville. That was when Rager reached for my hand and held it. It was then I realized I lived for these moments in the dark, much like I had back when our love was forbidden. Because these were where we could really connect. On an open highway in the middle of the night.
Inductance – Measurement of a conductor’s ability to resist a change in current flow; analogous to an objects ability to resist a change in velocity.
DEVILS BOWL SPEEDWAY
MESQUITE, TEXAS
You’d think by now I’d be used to life on the road, but some mornings, it frustrated me that we lived in a forty-foot motor home most of the year and I still couldn’t find anything I was looking for. Every February I told myself I’d be prepared and organized and come May, all that shit went out the window.
Now it was nearly June and I was in “crazy mom” mode and pissed that cracker crumbs were everywhere and Rager wasn’t helping me. He stared at a hysterical Hudson.
“Why are you screaming, dude?”
Hudson didn’t answer him. Or maybe he didn’t hear him over his crying.
Running around the motor home, I looked for Hudson’s pacifier and couldn’t find it. What I did find was that package of apple sauce Knox had been carrying around earlier, half empty, and stepped on it. What was left shot out the side and onto Rager’s leg as he sat on the couch.
My eyes snapped to my foot, and then Rager’s leg. “Whoops.”
He glared, and then shook his head. “That’s sadly not the first thing that’s been squirted at me today.”
“I’m almost scared to ask.”
He stood. “I’d rather you not.” And then he left, apple sauce dripping from his leg.
I still didn’t find the pacifier but settled on a popsicle. I’d literally give him anything but my boob at this point. I stopped breastfeeding Hudson a couple of weeks back and now my right tit was red, angry, and letting me know something was wrong. Given the women in my family’s history with booby issues, immediately I was alarmed. What if I had breast cancer? What then?
I ended up taking Hudson for a walk to calm him down and met up with Hayden.
“How long has it been sore?”
I stared over at Hayden who sat next to me as we watched the kids playing inside the rear tires stacked against the hauler. Shifting in the chair, I rolled my shoulders back to sit up straighter. “I just noticed it this morning when I was putting on my bra
“Maybe you have an inflamed milk duct? I had that with Rowyn.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep. It was super painful. Felt
