Page 31 of Saber's Surrender

“He claims that everything else about me is all him,” he tells me, pointing an accusatory finger in Weston’s direction.

“We’ll see,” I say, repeating his words causing us both to snicker.

“So you wanna adopt me, huh? Sure you want to take me on, Roxy?” Hearing him call me by my name sends a spear of longing to slash its way through me. But in essence, I’m not his mom, I gave that right away but I’m willing to stand my ground and fight for the right to hear the word mom pass through his lips. “I hear I can be a handful.”

“I hear the same about myself,” I return. “I guess we can be a handful together. Need to keep Saber there on his toes, we gotta keep him young.”

“Already ganging up on me, I see,” Weston slips in. “Looks like I’ll need to bring Egypt into my fold so we stand a fighting chance against the two of you.”

Canyon and I glance at one another, both of us wearing the same look of mischief, and together, in perfect harmony, we sing song, “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t long afterward that Egypt joined the rambunctious party. We got a little dramatic and enthusiastic with our voices as they carried throughout the house as we laughed through stories of mine and Weston’s childhood. She had a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder when she entered the room.

I could tell then and there that she wasn’t going to give us a chance. Sighing, in the manner that only teenagers can pull off, Canyon picked up a plate of cookies that had been set aside for her, two glasses for them to drink, and all but yanked his sister out on the back porch.

A lot of hands were flailing through the air as they went at it. I could see my son through the picture window and he was becoming frustrated with his sister. However, we adults decided the best course of action would be to stay out of it and let Canyon handle his sister and her fits. After all, he has more experience under his belt dealing with her than we do.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I was scared shitless to go out there and face the firing squad—in all likelihood, I’ll never admit that out loud because as a doctor, I’ve been trained to set my personal feelings aside when someone’s at their lowest, but when it comes to these two, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do that. Kids can be brutal when they’re in a maudlin state of mind and I didn’t want her to give me a tongue lashing.

Egypt looks like the type of girl who could hold her own and put you down, like a true southern girl with a ‘bless your heart’ and a benign smile on her face without worrying about the repercussions. I was never that girl and never had any good comebacks against those who were.

Somehow, I doubt that’s changed over time becausein-your-faceconfrontation as well as misconstrued ‘sweet linguistics’ that are anything but and I are not friends and never will be—unless I’m bantering with Weston, then I’m ready to roll my shirt sleeves up and brawl. That’s because I’m comfortable with him, even when we were in a rocky place.

The four of us continued to be spectators, or nosey asses as Weston muttered so the kids wouldn’t overhear when they finally ended their argument with tears shed on both sides and then a hug, we all relaxed when Egypt twisted in her chair and shot us all a smile. It was friendlier, but we still have a long road to acceptance in front of us when it comes to her.

As the evening wound down, both of the kids were comfortable around us and looking forward to coming to the clubhouse and seeing where we lived.

That was two days ago, and tonight, Weston and I will be exploring the empty homes on the property to see which one will work best for our family so Canyon and Egypt know when all of the I’s have been dotted and the T’s have been crossed, they have a house to come home to. That is if my shift in the ER ever ends. Granted, at some point we’ll be going back to Cedar Creek, but for the time being, we’re here in Roanoke, so we need to create a home that’ll make them feel safe and secure.

My day is finally over. It was one of those that I thought would never wrap itself up. The minute hand on the clock barely moved any time I’d glance up at it which means the hours crept by.

“Damn, this was the never-ending shift,” Miranda complains as we walk through the parking lot and into the employee parking zone.

It’s gated with a security guard watching over the premises, so one would think we’d be safe as we drag our feet toward our vehicles. I should’ve known that illusions of safety can be deceiving when I hear a voice from the past holler out my name, freezing me in my tracks

“What the hell?” I murmur.

“Do you know that guy?” Miranda asks. “He doesn't look familiar. I don’t think he’s an employee, so he definitely shouldn’t be here. Where’s Frank?” We both scan the area, looking for our friend who oversees the parking lot.

“I don’t see him,” I whisper as I watch my foster cousin, Jiovanni Pena, continue strolling in our direction with a smarmy grin plastered from one ear to the other. He’s always been a troublemaker and a member of the Pena family I avoided at all costs. I barely hold back my shiver of disgust as he approaches us until he’s merely a few feet away. While I can’t stand him, I won’t leave Miranda’s side because he’s like a hyena, unable to be trusted at all.

“Cousin,” Jiovanni says, opening his arms like we’re having a genuine reunion.

And honestly? If we had that kind of relationship, I wouldn’t hesitate one second to go in for a hug. But with him, it’s best to keep my distance.

“Jiovanni,” I return, my voice nowhere near as chipper and jovial as his is. “What are you doing here?” I don’t walk into his arms like he was expecting me to, instead, I cross my arms over my chest in a defensive move.

He loses his polite demeanor—the demonic expression and stance I’m used to seeing when it comes to him takes its place. “Do you mind?” he snaps at Miranda causing her to rear back with a bewildered gasp escaping her.

“I do actually,” she snarks. “This area is restricted. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve come to see my cousin, we have business to discuss,” he argues, his volume low and sinister. “I traveled a long way to see you, cousin dear, you wouldn’t deny me a moment of your time would you?”

“She would, actually,” Miranda determinedly states, stepping in front of me and blocking his view of me, parroting my protective pose. I guess she can see how uneasy I am with his sudden presence. “Until she’s off the hospital’s property, personal business is on hold.”

“How do you reckon?” he asks. His sudden interest in her has the hair on the nape of my neck standing to attention and I wish there was a way to reach Weston right this second without Jiovanni knowing.

“She could still be called back inside to deal with an emergency. She’s on the clock until she’s home,” she continues, lying through her teeth—convincingly so, because now I’m certain, due to her justification, I could be stopped and called back in until I’m pulling into the clubhouse’s driveway.

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