Page 2 of Grumpy

Giggling as his uncles gave him a bit more room, Scotty pulled his ice cream closer to him. “Mine,” he growled, sounding as fierce as a puppy.

Grumpy’s eyes narrowed on his nephew. “Oh yeah? And who’s paying for your ice cream?”

Scotty snorted and licked the backside of his spoon. “Please,” he drew out the word. “Aunt Sophia would never make me pay for ice cream.” He said it with such confidence and sincerity that there was absolutely no arguing with that logic.

The back of the diner roared with laughter from his three club brothers as Grumpy shook his head at his nephew. “Well played, kid.”

Scotty’s smile was pure sunshine.

Kelly stepped up to the table then, her smile just as bright as Scotty’s. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She offered Jigsaw, Poker, and Ranger menus. Pausing, she glanced down at Grumpy’s plate that he’d barely touched. Concern replaced her natural happiness. “Everything okay?”

Grumpy nodded at her. Not that he’d ever risk saying otherwise. Tally was in the kitchen, which meant a single word of complaint was quickly dealt with by Scar. “My eyes were just bigger than my appetite today,” he explained to her. It wasn’t exactly a lie; she’d certainly drawn his attention away from his food.

Her warm brown hair was pulled up into a professional bun with three small braids trisecting the top of her head. Though a couple years shy of forty, Kelly had started to get a few gray hairs recently. She was very vocal in her ridiculous jealousy of Grumpy’s long locks that seemed to only get shinier and thicker as he aged. He’d seen her in the salon and knew she was dying away the gray, and as much as he believed no one had the right to tell anyone what to do with their own body, he wished she wouldn’t. She treated the gray strands like imperfections, when they were the opposite.

“I can get you something else, if you want,” she offered with a smile.

Grumpy’s gut twisted at the idea of disappointing her. “No need,” he reiterated, dutifully picking up a fry and popping it into his mouth.

Kelly hesitated a moment before turning to his club brothers. Even as she took their orders, her eyes continuously flicked back to Grumpy. And every single time, he picked up and ate another french fry.

Grumpy’s eyes fell to her curvy ass as she stepped away into the kitchen. When the swinging door blocked her from view, Grumpy turned his attention back to the table—only to find three pairs of eyes staring straight at him. The fourth set was fixated on getting the gummy bear that had sunk down below the melted cream in his glass.

“What?” Grumpy snapped.

“When are you going to stop dancing around that girl and ask her out?” Ranger demanded. Of the four adults at the table, he was the only one in a relationship. His on-again, off-again girlfriend, Cameron, had been more on-again than not recently, but Ranger still hadn’t put a cut on her.

Not that it was a requirement to, but it also signified a lack of seriousness in the relationship.

“Show some damn respect,” Grumpy said warningly. “‘That girl’ is a beautiful woman with more compassion and goodness in her little finger than all of us have at this table combined.”

“And the only reason we are even on the scale is because of this one here,” Jigsaw added, tousling Scotty’s dirty blonde hair.

“Daddy says Uncle Grumpy’s not good enough for her,” Scotty input. The completely serious way he voiced the statement had three of his uncles laughing.

Grumpy reached across the table in retaliation to swipe another ice cream drip. Though he didn’t disagree with Lucky’s assessment, he did wonder why his love life was even a conversation that Scotty could have overheard. Apparently, his light stalking of Kelly had not been as stealthy as he thought if his club brothers had picked up on it.

Jigsaw’s phone beeped, abruptly stopping the man’s laughter. Quickly, Jigsaw pulled the device from his pocket. His worried expression was quickly replaced by disappointment when he saw the notification. “Fuck,” he muttered, repocketing his phone.

It must have been too low for Scotty to hear, or he would have made Jigsaw make restitution in the form of a donation to Aunt Angel’s swear jar.

“What’s up?” Poker asked, directly across from Jigsaw.

Jigsaw shook his head, his eyes flicking to Scotty next to him. “Friend from my unit hasn’t been answering messages. That was another of my teammates saying that they hadn’t heard from him either. I asked Keys to look into it, and he said there’s still activity on his credit cards and even his gym membership. But for some reason, he’s stopped answering.”

The four veterans at the table all fell silent for a minute, picking up on the signs Jigsaw wasn’t saying.

Poker scratched his graying beard. “You think he’s going to go Winchester?”

Grumpy eyed Scotty, but the teen was fully engrossed in his ice cream. Still, Grumpy did not like talking about a fellow veteran’s potential suicide in front of him. He was far too innocent for the likes of this conversation.

Jigsaw also phrased his answer carefully, given nearby ears. “I’m not sure. I plan to ask Ghost if I can fly out to check on him. Just got a…feeling,” he added pointedly.

“Ghost won’t hesitate,” Ranger answered, the only officer at the table. “Make your plans to go.”

More determined now, Jigsaw nodded and pulled his phone back out. Most likely to check on flights.

The rest of the meal was certainly more somber after that change of topic. Potential suicide had a way of tainting the atmosphere. Grumpy had worked in the motor pool during his service, and unlike his club brothers, had never been deployed into a combat zone. Up until a year and a half ago, Poker had been living on the streets of Detroit, mentally and physically unable to hold down a job. Ranger and Jigsaw both had their own battle scars, too. Regardless of how they spent their service, the suicide rate for active-duty servicemen and veterans was far too high. Ranger was right to speak for Ghost, who would never hold a club brother back from helping a fellow veteran through a tough time.