Primal (Wrong Side of the Tracks 2)

They had all worked so hard on getting the house to a liveable state before the winter, so not everything was finalized when it came to the interior, but since installing running water and a normal bathroom, Dane had been dying to invite his family. The sole reason it had taken longer than necessary was because Jag had insisted on everything being perfect for the all-important visit, but Dane had eventually managed to convince him that his family wouldn’t judge their house as inadequate.

So maybe it barely got Internet at this point, and the cellular signal remained patchy, but their home was warm, and equipped with all the conveniences Dane didn’t want to give up on. A large table and chairs were a must, for example. Like most of their furniture, they had been reclaimed and weren’t a set, but Jag and Dane had had lots of fun painting the seats the same color and adding small tassels to each of the backrests. It worked, in a postmodern kind of way that Dane found himself enjoying more than he’d anticipated.

“Most of all, you get all this space!” Mom chirped, arching in the seat when they took the final turn and the house emerged from behind the trees, painted a golden hue by the sun setting on the horizon.

“And a forest nearby. You’d have to pay through the nose for a location like that, even in our town,” Dad added, making Dane smile a little wider.

Jag might have come with a lot of baggage, but he was still a catch, and it was thanks to him that Dane now got to live in such an amazing place. The spot they’d chosen wasn’t tucked away or secretive like Jag’s dens had been, but still offered plenty of privacy. Their house had been erected within the bounds of the junkyard, on the end opposite Shane’s home, but near the fence, which satisfied Jag’s patrolling needs.

Most days, if they wanted to visit the other guys, it was faster to get in the car and follow the road around the junkyard than brave the vast expanse of scrap separating them. And since Dane frequently worked at Shane’s place because of its superior Internet connection, he’d made a good friend in Ros. Like him, Ros didn’t deal with the criminal underworld and mostly focused on his work as an artist. He had even created a scarecrow for Dane and Jag’s garden and have given it to them as a housewarming gift.

“Yes, it’s off the beaten path and all, but that suits me just fine. It’s not that far from you guys,” Dane said, relaxing when the asphalt road led the car along the perimeter fence, toward their small yet comfortable home.

“I’m just a bit concerned about the girls playing with the scrap when they come over,” Dad muttered, but Dane spoke right away.

“We thought about that. Jag wants to make a playground for them, and he will obviously not let them roam around on their own when they need babysitting. He already built a fence around the garden so they can explore that area tonight.”

Mom patted Dane’s shoulder. “It’s really cute how invested he is. He’s become their favorite uncle.”

“He loves kids. There had been plenty where he’d grown up,” Dane said, slowing down upon approach to the open gate, which Frank had fitted by their home. The fact that Jag had never learned being self-conscious about making a fool of himself during playtime definitely made it easier for him to befriend the girls.

He was fantastic with them, and since he and Jag wouldn’t have kids of their own, Dane was happy about the close bonds his man developed with his younger siblings. Jag was a pack animal by nature and thrived when knowing he served a purpose. When Dane explained to him how helpful it was to their family that he babysat for them, freeing up the other adults to work, his eyes had lit up with so much pride Dane had no qualms asking him for the support.

If anything, Dane had to make sure Jag got enough rest, because since they’d started building the house, he’d been in a constant frenzy. And it wasn’t as if he could make a list and calm down about it. Dane had started teaching Jag the basics of letters, but his progress was glacial. Still, as long as Jag was happy, they were in no rush.

“Oh, there is your future husband,” Mom said, squeezing Dane’s shoulders as they drove through the gate and spotted Jag rising from the seat installed on the roof so he could survey his territory from an elevated position. Dressed in his best clothes—orange cargo pants the same shade as a high visibility vest, and a sweater Dane had decorated for him with all kinds of plastic beads.