Page 18 of Roxy's Independence
“Then find me a suite because I’m not leaving him,” Python adamantly says. “Not for a minute.”
“We’ll get you hooked up, brother. It won’t be a luxurious night, but you’ll have a bed big enough for you and Kinsley to fit in.”
“I won’t be sleeping,” he states.
“You need your rest, Python,” Roxy informs him. “Both of you do. You can’t properly take care of him if you’re exhausted. You have help for the night, take advantage of that. I promise you; they’ll wake you up if there’s an issue.”
“We’ll see,” he remarks, turning on his feet and heading toward his son. We both glance at each other and sigh as we go and make the necessary arrangements.
This has been one helluva start to the day. The sun is just now starting to rise. After taking care of getting Easton a room with a pull-out bed, we find the kids, get them packed up and check on Selah and Butcher one last time before leaving.
This is our life, no matter how hectic it is. Life is precious. We had a calling that we both answered. It isn’t always easy, but it’s worth every struggle because without people like us, Selah and Easton could’ve had a different outcome.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Roxy
I may have gone slightly overboardin my ordering spree. I made sure each structure on the property has equipment stored for Easton. I’ve even purchased a carry-on breathing machine for his diaper bag. I’d rather be fully stocked than us running around like a chicken with its head cut off if an emergency were to strike.
“Babe,” Weston chuckles. “Do you seriously think that we need breathing machines for the bathrooms?”
“Yes,” I state. “What if he’s in with one of his parents and starts struggling to breathe? I’d rather us be safe than sorry.”
“But you got them one for the diaper bag, Roxy. If he’s with one of them while they take care of business, don’t you think they’ll have it with them?”
“Not unless they’re in the bathroom to change him, no I don’t.” I shake my head, trying to think up any and all scenarios that could have them needing help.
“Roxy! Wanna tell me why I have an oxygenator or whatever the hell that contraption is in my office?” Dragon bellows, sounding like his namesake.
Weston looks at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” I confirm, not feeling bad about doing so. I tap my temple with the tip of my finger and say, “Any and all scenarios.”
“Roxy, answer me woman,” Dragon snaps as he marches up to us. “You took my bourbon off the shelf, stacked the bottles on the ground and put that machine there in my stock’s place? Why?”
“Because Easton is more important than kicking back with a tumbler,” I reason. “Wouldn’t you say?” I tilt my head to the side, daring him to come up with an argument for my logic.
“Kids aren’t in my office, Roxy. Ever,” he counters. “Therefore, I see no reason for me needing to put it in a place of sanctity, do you?”
“You have a shrine… to your bourbon? You’re joking, right?” I ask, wanting to make sure my ears aren’t deceiving me because I’m obviously misunderstanding what he’s saying—even knowing they’re overgrown boys in men’s bodies, it makes no intellectual sense. I’m going to need a further explanation if I’m to understand why alcohol is more important than a machine that could save a life.
“I wouldn’t say a shrine necessarily,” Dragon says, looking down at his feet which are now shuffling.
“Then what does it matter?” I ask, my hands now planted on my hips. “Let’s break down the situation… what if Python is watching Easton but needs to talk to you about something andleft the diaper bag in another room because it’s meant to be a quick chat, and out of nowhere, Easton has an attack, what are you going to do if a machine isn’t readily available and you have to run to find said bag while Python settles Easton? What if you can’t find his bag because it’s not in the spot where Python told you it was? What do you do, Dragon?”
“I go to the men’s bathroom, obviously,” he sarcastically answers.
“Wrong answer, brother,” Weston faintly says, treading lightly because he knows how I can get when I’m passionate about something—and thisissomething I take seriously. You don’t mess around with a kid’s life. I will fight Hell itself to save one of mine.
“You can have your damn shrine back, Dragon,” I say through gritted teeth. “But… I’m putting one in the hallway instead. I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.”
“Roxy!” Weston says my name with wide eyes before placing himself between me and his president. “It’s a good idea, Dragon. Wouldn’t you agree?” I fight off the laughter bubbling up in my chest at the way my husband is nodding his head at Dragon.
“I’m waiting to hear the word yes come from your lips, husband of mine,” Laney says from the background, one of her kids in a carrier on her chest, kicking his feet, and the other two nestled on her hips, clutching her shirt. “And I have to say, I’m disappointed that you’re throwing a child-like fit over having one in your office. In place of your liquor. If it was one of ours, wouldn’t you want everyone to be stocked with lifesaving equipment?”
“Be the president they said, it’ll be fun they said,” Dragon mumbles, his face drawn in. “Newsflash, they were wrong. It isn’t fun. Y’all are all a pain in my damn ass.”
