Page 16 of Saber's Surrender

I’ve already told them it was my bad, what else do they want from me? They haven’t walked a mile in my shoes, they don’t know what it’s like to have everything good in your life ripped away with one bad decision. One that you had no control over and didn’t make for yourself. They have their kids, they have their old ladies, and they have a home to come to every night where they get to spend precious moments with them all. They have the life most of us would give our right nut for, so why do they think they have any room to invade my life and complain about the way I conduct myself?

“Brother, whatever you’re thinking, I’d cool it,” Cuda suggests, elbowing me. When I glance over to where the two men are standing shoulder to shoulder, a cold shiver works its way up and down my spine as goosebumps erupt along my skin. Butcher is off to the side, a worried look coating his face. Only, I'm not sure if that’s concern for me and what the two men are capable of doing to me or if he’s wondering if he should hit the deck because they’re both about to blow.

“I’m gonna call it a night,” I state, tossing my empty bottle in the bin.

“Good idea,” Butcher says in agreement, emphatically nodding his head as his eyes pinwheel in the direction of the barracks where I live. “I’d do that pretty quickly if I were you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I snark before twisting my body and heading that way.

What the fuck was I thinking with my smartass remarks? It’s not every day that someone wakes our president's dragon, but when they do, you can expect him to spew fire in your direction. And I’ve watched plenty of times as he’s burned my brothers into a pile of ash. Usually, it’s Prowler and Striker who elicit that reaction from him.

“Damn, Saber. Do you have a death wish?” I ask myself.

As I walk through the living area I wave at those who call out hellos and keep trekking along my current path. Moving past my bed, even though it’s calling me, I head into the bathroom so I can wash today’s bullshit off of me. When the warm spray sluices over my skin, my muscles relax but my mind is in constant turmoil.

Canyon’s face floats through my memories and a humorous chuckle escapes as I recall how much he favors me. It was like looking back through a photo album and seeing myself when I was his age when I first spotted him lying on that gurney. He also has a lot of the same mannerisms as I do and the look he sent me on a few occasions is the same one I give others when they don’t give me the answers I want.

Realistically, I know that Roxy and I are gonna have to tell him the truth at some point. Not right away, of course, but I suspect it’ll upset him a great deal. Still, despite knowing that we’re likely in for a rough ride so to speak, there’s no doubt in my mind that fate played a role in bringing our son back into our lives.

And I’m grabbing that proverbial brass ring with both hands then holding on tight.

CHAPTER

TEN

Roxy

Sleeping doesn’t cometo me easily. I toss and turn in bed until the sheets are twisted around my ankles. All I can seem to think about is how much Canyon is going to despise me once the truth of his parentage comes to light. I still don’t know if he has been told that he was adopted or not and that has my heart racing in my chest.

I remember our foster mothers saying, “Nothing done under cover of darkness ever stays hidden.” Guess it means the sins of my past are about to be blared to the world. Or, at least to Canyon.

Deep inside, I know I made the hard choice when I found out we were pregnant. We weren’t in any kind of position to care for a baby. Hell, the only way we managed to eat was because of the part-time jobs we both had. Our schooling and books were covered thanks to the state’s program that’s in place for foster kids, but we still had to eat. We lived in the dorms since those were covered as well, and I can almost guarantee that our fellow students, despite their partying natures, would’ve had a stroke if there was a baby crying at all hours of the day and night.

“Yeah, I’m so fucked,” I grumble to myself as I fix the sheets, again, and pound my pillow into submission.

If he didn’t know he was placed with the adoption agency and his long lost parents are the ones who bring that to light, he’s going to most likely be full of teenage rage. Hormones at that age are finicky on a good day, but on a bad one, they can be explosive and I don’t want that aimed my way.

Maybe I should disappear once he’s been reunited with Saber. I mean, I was the one who decided that it was in his best interest to be adopted, so surely I’ll be the main target when he loses his shit. Not that I can blame him if he does end up feeling that way. It’d be validated, at least in Saber’s opinion it would be.

But what if he understands?A tiny voice whispers in my head. It almost sounds like Wrecker, which is impossible. I’m obviously delirious from lack of sleep and right now, I’m glad I have the day off since I came in for the trauma. I need to get my head on straight and my shit sorted before I walk through the doors of the hospital again.

While most folks can go to work with minimal sleep, what I do can be the difference between life and death. I’ll just see if I can go back to sleep for a little while and if not, then I’ll make sure I go to bed early.

Satisfied with my plan, I do something I’ve done for years when sleep is a challenge. I mentally compose a letter to my son. I’m only through the first paragraph when sleep reclaims me and this time, it’s dream-free.

I wake up refreshed and with a new outlook on life. Even though the beginning of my sleep was fitful, I actually slept the rest of the night without my normal tossing and turning. Sleep isn’t usually my friend, and I’m not sure why my sleep pattern changed as vastly as it did, but I hope it means a new trend has begun.

Waking up without having sagging bags underneath my eyes would be a new concept I can appreciate. Since Weston left all those years ago, my appearance hasn’t meant anything to me, but now that he’s back and going by the moniker Saber—something I have to keep reminding myself of since the entirety of our lives he was my Weston, I want to be vain. I want him to look at me and ask himself why he let me go in the first place.

There’s some underlying anger there that hopefully, now that Canyon is back in our lives, he can process and work through. I don’t believe he allowed himself to go through the grieving process after leaving the hospital that day. No, our son didn’t pass but we did lose him. I know that the fault for that lies on my shoulders and mine alone, however, he needs to go through the emotions so he can move on with his life.

Deep down inside of me, I pray that he heals so that he’s finally ready to let our past go and live in the here and now. I’m sure in his thought process he’s already done that, and he may sincerely believe that, but I’ve been through enough counseling to understand that he hasn’t.

Shaking my thoughts away, I jump out of the bed and head toward my ensuite so I can prepare for the day's events.

I don’t even make it out in the yard fully before a tumbler of coffee is shoved into my hands and I’m dragged to Saber’s motorcycle.

My brain hasn’t processed the fact that a helmet is being placed and strapped onto my head before I’m lifted onto the seat and brace myself as he tosses his leg over—all while holding onto my liquid gold without losing my grip on it. Before he turns the bike over, I pop the top and nearly laugh when a straw pokes out of the sip valve.

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