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“Let’s go watch my boy try to calm down his woman, huh?”

My gaze drifts over Mad Dog’s shoulder, at the men pretending to DIY but who are clearly listening in to our conversation.

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Not if my boy needs me.”

A smile tugs my lips at his answer. He’s a good man. But sometimes good men are the dangerous ones. The ones you lose yourself to without even realizing you’re handing them your heart.

“Willa?”

He holds his hand out, letting me go first and dammit if those manners don’t have me leading the way out the door, down the path, toward my house with the warmth of Mad Dog’s hand at my lower back. Then, when we reach my stoop I feel it. Just a whisper of touch guiding me rather than steering. That simple touch does something to me, excitement and fear warring within my gut, making me scramble to shore up my walls before Mad Dog blows them to smithereens.

Wailing and Rhodie’s calm tones drift from the other side of the door. Whatever internal battle I’m having gets shoved deep down where I might only be able to find it after a bottle of wine and a true crime podcast. Chewy needs us.

“Holy shit.”

Chapter 3

Mad Dog

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t Chewy in fits of tears, Nat dancing with Chomper and Ana threatening Chewy with a frying pan.

“What the fuck is happening?” I mutter to myself.

I know Willa doesn’t have the answer because she's frozen, eyes wide, plump lips open in an “o” that’s making my dick hard looking at it.

“Chewy told Ana if she went all emo to hit her with a pan and Nat is trying to distract Chewy with Chomper,” Rhodie answers as if that shit is totally normal.

“Baby, what’s with the tears?” Rhodie asks, edging closer to his Ol Lady.

I’m not sure what the hell he’s been doing in the 30 odd seconds before Willa and I turned up, but it definitely wasn’t cuddle her and tell her it's all gonna be OK.

“Rhodie,” I whisper, “hold her son.”

Rhodie shoots me daggers over his shoulder before edging closer.

“He did,” Kaia murmurs, “and she bit him.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. Now is not the time for me to laugh.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing so good,” Rhodie soothes, making little hushing sounds like you would to a mad bull. “Now, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

Chewy’s gaze snaps to Rhodie and I take a step back at the look on her face. “The baby? The baby that’s cutting off my inferior vena cava making my feet look like this?” Chewy kicks up her foot and bursts into fresh sobs.

“Holy shitballs,” Vi whispers, looking horrified.

“Damn!” Blanche accidentally shouts before slapping a hand over her mouth.

There, high in the air in the middle of Willa’s homely kitchen is Chewy’s incredibly fat foot.

“Holy schnikes it looks like a Christmas ham with toes,” Mira whispers and Chewy’s bat ears pick up on that from across the room.

“I have ham foot Rhodie! Ham foot! Your giant sperm knocked me up and now look at me! A human body my size was not meant to procreate with a giant human your size. What about my vagina!”

“Yeah Rhodie, what about her vagina? Did you think about that you big shitstain?”

“Pops, never say the word vagina again,” Blanche says drily.