Page 28 of Saber's Surrender

However, it surprises me a little bit that Weston is speaking so freely about these things in front of RiffRaff. Is the Roanoke chapter like the guys who came from Cedar Creek? It’s something to ponder.

“What about Canyon? How’s he handling things?” I ask RiffRaff.

“He hasn’t said a word,” RiffRaff replies. “He’ll nod yes or shake his head no, but not one peep has passed his lips since we brought them here from the hospital.”

“Did he talk at the hospital?” I question. I honestly don’t remember hearing him speak, so I wonder if this is because he’s now in foster care and the reality of his situation can’t be avoided.

“He talked to me, but didn’t really say anything to anyone else,” Weston states. “In fact, outside of when he asked me how his sister was, he was mostly monosyllabic.”

“Has Mrs. Tremain set him up with any therapy appointments? I’d think that would be one of the first things we need to set up if not,” I advise.

“Yes,” Jillian replies, having come onto the porch with us. She notices the expression on my face and continues. “Both kids are laying down right now. Egypt has fallen asleep, but I don’t expect it’ll be for very long based on last night, and Canyon isn’t sleeping, he’s just in his bed, curled up into a ball, staring at the wall.”

Tears start trickling down my face. Right now, in this moment, I wish I had the ability to turn back time so they’d have their parents back. Even if it meant that Weston still hated me, and we wouldn’t have the opportunity to have our son in our lives. I know we’re in a far better position now than we were then to raise a family, and so many parents don’t get this opportunity, but what will it cost the kids just so we get some joy?

“C’mon in, y’all. No sense standing on the porch when we’ve got a comfortable den we can sit in,” RiffRaff says.

Weston and I follow behind him and Jillian, with the two of us heading to the kitchen to get some drinks. When we get in the kitchen, it’s to see Jillian’s two, Kimber and Callum, working together to make cookies.

“Hi, Miss Roxy!” Kimber exclaims. “We’re making cookies for later when Canyon and Egypt come back down.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” I say. “What kind?”

Callum laughs while clapping his hands. “All of them!”

Jillian shakes her head, giggling at his antics. “They’re making our favorites that we enjoy until we find out what theirs are,” she advises, pulling a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. “I know Saber likes tea, what about you?”

I shudder when she waves the disgusting drink, that looks like dirty water, in my direction. “Anything diet or water if you don’t have diet drinks.”

Kimber starts snickering as she looks at her mom. “Um, we have Diet Coke, Diet Dr. Pepper, Coke Zero, and Fanta Zero.”

“Diet Coke please. Jillian, let me help,” I suggest, walking over to where she’s got several glasses on the counter.

“You’re a guest,” she whispers.

“No, we’re all family now,” I rebut. “Which means I get to help.”

“She’s got you there, Mom,” Kimber sasses. “Okay, Callum, can you bring me the butter that’s inside the microwave? Be careful and use the oven mitt.”

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Saber

I offerto go and check in on the kids while the rest of them stay downstairs and get to know my soon-to-be old lady and wife. I stoically think back to a few days ago when I was emphatic that she’d never be my old lady, only my wife on paper. But thanks to Wrecker’s interference, my way of thinking has changed and I can’t wait to announce to the club and Foxy that she’s not going anywhere—ever.

With my heart in my throat, I open the door Jillian told me was Egypt’s and watch as she fitfully twists and turns on the bed, but considering the fact that her eyes are closed, I softly shut the door and decide to let her wake on her own when her body is ready.

As I approach Canyon’s room, I do something I haven’t done in my lifetime, I pray. I don’t want him to hate me or Foxy. I bet he’s going to be full of bitterness considering that due to our decision, he’s suffered one of the biggest losses a person can experience.

I lightly knock on his door since I can see his shadow pacing from beneath the door. When he doesn’t answer, I call out, “Canyon, it’s me. Can I come in?”

The door is yanked open as he asks, “Who’s me?” When he notices me standing there, he huffs. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I state, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, why not,” he says with a hint of teenage attitude. “Not like it’s my place anyway.”

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