Page 151 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Sloane’s family, however, was not quite as ready for that.

“Are you boys hungry?” Ana asked as she whirled out of the parking spot, moving the SUV with the speed and agility of a vehicle half its size.

“If it’s not your tamales,” Sloane huffed from the back seat, his accent impeccable, “I don’t want shit.”

“Sloane tells us you speak some Spanish,” Ana said, her eyes on the rearview mirror even as she pulled out onto the road.

Dean grunted, praying they weren’t hit by a wayward car. “Nothing worth bragging about. Enough to get around if I need to, but not enough to keep up with...uh, that.”

Ana didn’t have to follow his gesture toward the backseat to know what he meant.

Shawna was apparently far more fluent than Dean had ever been.

If anything, he couldn’t help but think her mouth was built for the Spanish language.

To his ears, it was a language that rolled, dipped, and flowed and, with her rapid speech, worked perfectly for her.

Ana laughed softly. “Even when she’s speaking English, people have a hard time keeping up with her.”

“Mama,” Shawna complained.

Sloane snorted, low and ugly. “She’s not lying.”

“Asshole,” Shawna shot at him.

“Language,” Ana chided.

“He swears like a sailor, and I get yelled at for calling him what he is?” Shawna complained.

“And you’re a little shit,” Sloane told her.

“And a minor,” Ana added, looking at her youngest through the rearview mirror.

“Oh,” Diana said brightly. “That means I can call him an asshole then.”

“Don’t push it,” Sloane growled at her.

Ana hummed. “No, she has the right of it.”

“Mama!” Sloane protested.

Dean covered his mouth, trying desperately to hide his laughter at his boyfriend’s indignation.

While he was more than willing to call Sloane on being a grumpy bastard in private, he didn’t want to do it in front of his family.

As much as Sloane let him get away with a great deal, he was sure he would end up in the doghouse if Dean had the gall to agree with his family in front of him.

Ana glanced at him, leaving her children to squabble. “How was the trip?”

Dean grimaced. “It was...fine.”

She laughed softly. “Which is a very polite way of saying it was absolute hell, and you wished you hadn’t gone through with it.”

Dean eyed her. “Is bluntness a family trait or just something you’ve all picked up along the way?”

“Is there a difference?”

No, he supposed there wasn’t.

Dean huffed. “I can’t say traveling during the holidays is my favorite thing. But now we’re here, I don’t regret it for a minute.”

“Excuse me?” Shawna called from the backseat.

Sloane growled at her. “It’s not my fault you have terrible taste in men.”

“And what about you?” Shawna barked at him.

Sloane sounded smug when he responded. “I have perfect taste in men, thank you.”

“I’m talking about the girls before Dean,” Shawna shot back.

Ana glanced at him. “Do you have siblings, Dean? Sloane never mentioned any.”

“Only child,” Dean informed her.

“Believe it or not,” Ana said, glaring in the rearview mirror. “This is normal for siblings.”

“I’ve seen enough sibling relationships to know,” Dean told her.

“Mom!” Shawna shouted. “Sloane says I have terrible taste in men.”

“Consider it a family trait, from me to you, mija,” Ana said easily.

Which was lighthearted enough, but Dean caught the shadow that flashed over Sloane’s face.

Dean knew that of the three siblings, Sloane bore the greatest grudge against their father for having left.

Ironically, from what Dean had learned, it was Sloane who took after their father the most. How much that hung over Sloane, he never said, but Dean guessed it was more than he let on.

Shawna scoffed, looking out the window. “You’re no help.”

“She’s no help for me either. Learn to live with it,” Sloane told her.

“You don’t need the help,” Shawna grumbled.

“If you and Sloane ever decide to have children,” Ana informed him. “Let this be an excellent example of what you’ll have to go through.”

“Mama,” Sloane groaned from the back seat. “Don’t.”

“Kids?” Dean asked, not caring that it came out as a squeak.

Good lord, they hadn’t even been dating for a year yet. After six months of Sloane’s first relationship with a man, Dean wasn’t eager to push too hard for much more. He hadn’t even dared to bring up living together, even if they did spend more time at one another’s place than separately.

A soft chuckle rose from the backseat. “I think you broke him, Mom. And Sloane looks like he’s going to have a stroke.”

Ana blinked innocently at the rearview mirror. “Sloane, honey, Diana’s right. You are looking a little stressed.”

“Can we please just get to the house so I can pretend to hide in my room away from you all?” Sloane asked voice muffled as though he’d covered his face with his hand.

“It’s cute that he thinks he can hide from us,” Ana said to Dean.

“I said, pretend!” Sloane barked.

“And that he thinks he’s staying in his old room,” Ana added.

“Wait, why? What did you do to my room?” Sloane demanded.

“Your room worked perfectly well when you were the only one staying in it,” Ana informed him. “But considering it’s the same size bed as when you were a teen, I thought you might do better in the guest room.”

“The bed was fine,” Sloane complained. “We fit just fine in it last time.”

“I knew you didn’t sleep on the floor and let him have the bed,” Ana accused.

“Yeah, and we both fit just fine,” Sloane repeated.

Ana huffed. “Yes, well, this time, you’re not sleeping in it as friends. So you can have the guest room.”

“Which is on the other side of the house,” Diana proclaimed. “Away from the rest of us.”

“Which means we don’t have to hear our big brother’s sex noises,” Shawna added.

Sloane gave an ugly squawk of protest, and Dean groaned, slumping against the door. “Ana, please feel free to leave me here on the side of the road. I’ll happily join the woodland creatures for Christmas.”

Ana chuckled. “As if you’ll get away that easily.”

“Like hell, are you leaving me alone with them,” Sloane called to him.

“You love us,” Shawna proclaimed loud enough that Dean winced.

“Define love,” Sloane growled.

“So much love,” Diana tacked on.

“Let go of me!”

Ana gave Dean a rueful smile. “Welcome to the family, Dean.”

It wasn’t his first time visiting the house, and he was relieved at the sight of the two-story building as they rounded a curve.

It had once been a duplex split down the middle.

Growing up, Sloane had taken the living room, allowing his sisters to share a bedroom and their mother to have one to herself.

After leaving, he sent money home, allowing Ana to purchase the other house and tear down the shared walls and doors.

Now, it was a modestly sized two-story with enough rooms for each of them and a spare at the back for guests.

The house was surrounded by the rich woods that made up most of the area. There was also a considerable garden to one side of the house, and Dean would swear it had gotten bigger since the last time he’d seen it.

“What’d you manage to grow?” Dean asked as they stepped out of the SUV.

Ana beamed at him. “A whole host of things. Enough to feed us for weeks.”

“Mom,” Sloane began, frowning at her.

She waved him off. “I do it because it’s fun and good for us, and if it happens to cut down on the grocery bills, then so be it. I’m not having this discussion with you. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, Sloane,” Dean said, elbowing him. “It’s Christmas.”

Sloane looked like he was going to argue but then glared at Dean. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Dean grinned. “Maybe you can buy my support later.”

“Gross,” Shawna proclaimed loudly behind him as she bounced past.

“Oh,” Dean muttered. “Forgot she was back there.”

“Easy to forget when she’s not talking,” Sloane said. “Though congrats on scarring my sister. Now we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Something tells me she’ll find something else to go on about if you give her a chance,” Dean mused.

“Probably,” Sloane grunted, slipping an arm around Dean’s waist as they walked to the house.

Dean chuckled. “Pretend all you want, but we both know you missed them.”

“I did, and then I saw them again.”

Dean wasn’t fooled for a second but would allow his boyfriend to pretend for as long as he thought necessary. Which, for Sloane, would probably be the entire time he was back home.

Yet, despite all his bitching and growling, Dean sensed something calmer about Sloane as they approached the house.

There was no denying that his sisters drove him crazy, and his mother could be just as difficult.

But Sloane had forgone a lot over the years to ensure they had the life he believed they should have.

His income wasn’t much, and what was left over for him was even less after years of sending it home.

Sloane never complained about it, though, and in fact, insisted on trying to do more.

Stubbornness ran in the family, and Dean suspected the gene came directly from Ana.

Dean regarded her as the only person who could butt heads with Sloane and come out the victor.

He suspected the only reason she’d accepted the money was so her daughters would be taken care of when they finally moved out.

He was sure she and Sloane would have another argument on their hands.

They stepped through the front door, stopping just in time to miss being bowled over by Shawna. The teen was darting about the house, rambling about lights and baubles, though Dean didn’t try to keep up with her.

Sloane stared at the rooms and the stairs leading to the second floor. “It’s nice to know Mom hasn’t altered her decorating style. It looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, giving Sloane a light push. “Don’t be rude.”

Maybe it was a little excessive, but Dean wouldn’t blame Ana.

It was the first Christmas she’d had Sloane over in years.

There always seemed to be some reason or another he was denied leave and had to stay at the base or wherever he was stationed.

Now she had Sloane and Dean, the boyfriend, so he was sure that was part of the motivation.

And if the tree in the living room was practically obscured by all the ornaments and tinsel.

If the hallway was lit by the strings of lights fastened around its walls, and if the tinkling of Christmas music from the little ceramic town set up in the dining room was a little annoying, well, Dean thought it was sweet.

“Why don’t you go see if your mom needs help? I’ll put our stuff away,” Dean told him.

“Help?” Sloane asked, glancing around.

Dean pointed toward the kitchen, where the sounds of pots and pans could be heard. “Help.”

Sloane grinned, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. “Yessir.”

Dean watched him go, smiling when he heard Sloane unconsciously hum the song coming from the fake village.

Once Sloane was out of sight, Dean walked past the stairs and down the hallway.

There sat three doors, one to the backyard, one to the bathroom, and the last to the guest room.

It was supposedly where he should have slept when he’d been there the previous Easter, but Dean had bunked with Sloane instead.

Of course, he was doing the same thing this year, but not as a friend, as something so much more. It was the least decorated room in the house, equipped with a queen-sized bed, a dresser, a soft armchair in one corner, and a lengthwise mirror against the wall.

Dean smiled as he set their bags on the bed, listening to the sounds of the house.

He could hear things being shifted in the kitchen, and somewhere, Shawna was calling to Diana for something, though Dean couldn’t hear exactly what.

Ana’s voice drifted out, soft but strong, and whatever it was, it made Sloane laugh, that low throaty rumble he did only when he was genuinely pleased.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the sounds of family and joy, wondering if this was what it felt like to come home.