Page 9 of The Final Storm
“Um, could someone get Lori?” I ask.
“S-sure,” Luke coughs. Another spot of blood is on his sleeve, and my heart sinks at the sight.
Lori skips in moments later, and I give her a perplexed look. “Luke wants to see how she eats, so we should do that.”
“We,” she mocks. “You’re the one with leaking tits.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply.
“Wow,” Lori laughs. “You can see the future but can’t figure out breastfeeding.”
I frown. “Well, I must have missed that vision with the doula, where she helped me- Oh… wait.” I tap my finger on my chin. “No fucking doula or midwife. Just a friend who’s done this before.”
“I see we’re sticking with the sailor’s mouth around the kids,” Lori jokes. “I like it. Glad you’re not going to be one ofthosemoms.”
I wave a hand over Morgan. “It would only be fair to fuck this one up as much as BeLew.”
“I bottle-fed,” Lori shrugs. I lay my head back on the pillow and groan. “But how hard can it be? Tits out. Let’s do this.”
“I don’t think this is going to be as enjoyable as I imagine,” Sam chimes in. He’s hovering by the door, seeking an exit.
“Two women playing with each other’s breasts rarely is,” Luke agrees. “The man always feels left out. We never know what we’re doing with them, anyway.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sam counters.
“Out!” Lori orders. “Go play with your slingshot. Find the boys, and ask them if there’ll be any more surprises.”
The men leave with pleasure, and I chuckle, pulling up my top.
“I’m so glad you had a girl,” Lori adds. “We need to even out the hormones in this place. Oh, fuck, in a few years, all the kids will go through puberty.”
“Too much penis,” I grimace.
“And semen,” Lori adds. “It will be everywhere. Ugh.”
I raise my hand to her. “Please stop.”
She nods and spends the next hour helping me learn to feed Morgan. It’s not going well, and even though she tells me repeatedly that it’s difficult, even in the best circumstances, I feel like I’m failing.
Babies are small, unbelievably small, but she’s premature, and it shows. My mind races with worry. Lori agrees that a visit to Gemma will help, and when Morgan drifts off to sleep, the boys bounce in, sweaty and full of chatter. Lori swaddles the baby and tells all the boys to whisper, but Morgan doesn’t stir. She’ll need to learn to sleep through the noise with four boys bouncing around the house.
Tucker leans forward and whispers to me about the slingshot and their plans for enhancements. I kiss his tan cheek and trace a finger along his jaw. We’ll need their skills someday when the world needs to rebuild. True architects, Lori’s boys.
They’re like her when they set their mind to something, and I know Tank wants to hit that ship. They’ll figure out a way. The idea makes me chuckle, and I think about forbidding the slingshot, but I don’t. Any objections will make them want to do it more.
BeLew are oddly silent, and I wave my hands for them to come over. “Are you bored with the slingshot already?” I ask them.
Beau shakes his head, and Lewis touches the back of Morgan’s hand that peeks out from the blanket.
“There’s just no point,” Beau says.
“It is a far reach. I’ll give you that,” I smile. “But… it’s kind of fun. Think if you actually hit it.”
“No, it’s just… Gemma won’t let us play with it. She’ll keep us close.”
I lift myself on the couch to sit and feel the sharp pain in my lower stomach. It’s manageable, but I suck in air between clenched teeth and turn the other way, not wanting to alarm the boys. “What do you mean?” I grumble. My fingernails scratch along the fabric, and I take shallow breaths until the feeling subsides.
“She won’t let us play with it. She’s not like Luke and Dad,” Lewis whispers. I turn to see Tank barreling outside with an armful of supplies, ready to conquer the slingshot. I catch a glimpse of more kitchen items we need and groan.
