Free Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) by Brandace Morrow Page B

that declares his need. Harper is collapsed at the island bar, tears streaming down her cheeks because she’s wasting away. Jet bounces around, swinging his towel as he spins in the air, knocking over sheets of paper and a precariously balanced book.
    “Holy shhhh . . . shitake mushrooms. Harper, your mom’s feeding you, I promise. Trigg, let’s see what I can help you with. Jet . . . I have no idea what to do with you,” Brody says, wading into the storm. He heads for the iPod dock and changes the song from top forty music to classical in a second.
    The kids pause to process his presence and then look to me. I shrug helplessly and head to the stove. Sauce done. Noodles done. I grab oven mitts and pull a slightly charred loaf of garlic bread from the oven.
    Turning with bowls in both hands, I see that Jet’s mess has been cleaned up, the colander beside him at the table. The other kids are there, Trigg and Brody bent over a textbook and talking quietly while Harper’s eyes track me to the table with sustenance.
    “Trigg, let’s put a pin in that for a second so that your sister doesn’t blow away in the wind.”
    As Brody helps Trigg with his books, I dish and cut plates of spaghetti for the kids. Everyone is silent as they stuff their faces and I close my eyes at the sudden quiet.
    “Do you pray now?” Brody asks quietly over the sound of the classical music softly playing.
    “Yes, for my sanity. Every. Day.”
    After that, it’s all passing plates, telling about our day, asking the kids what they did in school. I’m quiet, watching my babies interact with the man who has always had my heart. I study him, his face rapt as Jet describes the playground with big hand gestures and extra volume in his voice. Harper brushes her hair back from her shoulder and looks at Brody under her eyelashes. Brody never takes his eyes off of Jet, but lifts an arm to the back of her chair. She smiles down at her plate, her cheeks pink. My first crush is her first crush.
    Trigg interrupts my thoughts. “Mom? You okay? You aren’t eating.”
    I fill my lungs to bursting and pick up my fork, shooting a smile his way. “I’m fine, buddy. Tell me about the friends you made today.”
    He shrugs and moves his food around on his plate. “Nobody, really.”
    “No one was nice to you? I’m sure there has to be a pretty girl that caught your eye.”
    His eyes shoot fire at me as he jumps up from his seat. “I said there was nobody, okay?!”
    I feel my face flinch at the loud screech of the chair on hardwood and watch him stomp up the stairs before picking up my fork again. Everyone is frozen and looking to me. I take a breath and ask Harper what she thought of her teacher. I can feel Brody’s eyes on me after the kids go back to their food. Questioning me? I don’t know.
    I tell the kids they can have popsicles on the porch after dinner and Brody gives them balls to throw for the dogs as the sun sets. I clear the table and do the dishes, Brody’s eyes following me around the room. I throw the sponge in the sink and turn to face him.
    “What?!” I ask in exasperation.
    He shrugs. Fucking men and their shrugs are just as bad as a woman’s. I lift my shoulders mockingly back at him.
    “What does that mean?”
    “I didn’t say anything, Jules. Chill out.”
    I point to him and step closer. “You’re thinking it. You think I’m a bad mom? You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
    “Jesus Christ. I don’t think you’re a bad mom, maybe a little nutty and prone to jumping to conclusions, yeah. But I’m not judging you for letting him storm off and slam doors.” He moves his eyes to where he places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “I’m learning, babe.”
    What? I look past him to process his words. Nope, still don’t get it. “What?”
    “You know your kids. I’m still learning them. I’m learning you again. Don’t ever think I’m doubting you when I watch you. You should remember, I