Page 3 of Roxy's Independence
“It’s a good thing you won’t have to go through that again, Weston. Because I’m here, forever at your back and at your side.For better or for worse, through sickness and in health until death do us part.”
“That’s music to my ears, Foxy Roxy.”
“They’re being sappy again,” Canyon complains, shouldering his sister.
Egypt looks up at us and smiles, saying, “Yeah they are.”
“Reminding someone of their importance, whenever the opportunity arises in your life, isn’t being sappy, Canyon,” I educate him. “It’s being real. Showing emotions isn’t a bad thing, if anything, it makes a boy a man.”
“Listen to your dad, Canyon. He’s giving you good advice,” Roxy replies. “There are men out there who think sharing their feelings makes them weak, but it doesn’t. If anything, it takes strength and courage to put yourself out there.”
“Scythe says that artists do that with a pen and paper,” Egypt inserts. “He told me that everything he draws is personal and he pours all of his feelings into each line and shade.”
“Everyone expresses themselves in different ways. You do that with your painting and Canyon does it with each twist of the wrench.”
“Mechanics aren’t artists,” Canyon argues.
“They’re not? You sure about that, son?” I probe, wanting him to learn to think things through before saying things out loud. “When you’re working with the guys at the shop, and y’all are restoring an old bike or car, do you not envision the final look and work hard to get it there?”
“Yes,” he answers, his brows drawn up into his hair line as he begins to compute the lesson I’m trying to teach him.
When he hunches in on himself and begins rocking back and forth, I quickly crab walk back from Roxy and crawl in his direction. “Canyon?”
“It’s trying to take me,” Canyon grits out. “I don’t know if I can stop it.”
“Harper!” I hear Roxy shouting behind me. “Help! Harper, help!” I can hear panic in her tone, but right now, all I can think about is keeping my boy from time traveling. He hasn’t mastered keeping himself from being yanked away and drifting off to another place and time. Roxy is still learning how to anchor him, but she hasn’t perfected it and isn’t confident enough to be his anchorman.
I can hear the footfalls of the mass come charging toward us. Butcher and Wrecker land beside him on their knees, each placing a hand on his shoulders. Harper plops down beside Wrecker, reaching across him to lay her hand on his knee. “Roxy, hold onto me,” Harper orders and Roxy complies. Soon, we’re a chain, linked together while holding tight to Canyon’s physical body.
“I’m coming with you, Canyon,” Butcher states. My eyes lift to his because this is one of his biggest fears. Losing control and possibly being stuck in another realm.
“I’m gonna tag along too,” Wrecker adds. This isn’t one of his gifts, but he can latch on and travel with them as long as he’s touching the person who’s going through the vortex. This is far beyond my expertise, but that won’t sway me from letting go. Nomatter where he goes or what he sees, I’ll be right here waiting for him when he gets back.
“Love you, son,” I tell him as his being shimmers and he collapses in my arms. “I’ll help keep you here until your mind and body reconnect.” I also plan on keeping an eye on the four that have attached themselves to him. During times like this is when they’re at their most vulnerable.
I’m not a praying man, but if I believed in a higher power, I’d be holding a rosary in my hand and begging forHisintervention in keeping those I care about the most in this life safe during their supernatural adventure.
Instead, I put out a beacon request to Jericho. I don’t have any personal experience in dealing with him on a spectrum level, but I happen to know he’s always aware and listening for our distress calls.
“Watch over them. I’m begging you, Jericho. Keep them safe.”
I don’t receive a spoken answer, but I wasn’t expecting one. Not one I can hear anyway. Jericho may be Harper and Wrecker’s spiritual advisor, but he’s the guardian and keeper of all of us who have been on the receiving end of spiritual, psychic, and metaphysical gifts.
CHAPTER
TWO
Roxy
Wind sweepsmy hair around my face as the powers that be send us to another place and time. My entire body shakes and trembles as does the floor beneath my knees. I have to close my eyes as the scene around me blurs in and out like rapidly moving pictures, and soon I feel like I’m a passenger on a locomotive journeying at a high rate of speed. My teeth rattle in my skull and my eyes feel as if they’re being yanked from their sockets.
Just as quickly as it started, it suddenly ends and my entire being jars as we harshly land. It takes a minute for me to orient myself, and once I do, a wounded animal sound escapes me. We’ve been taken back to the day Weston and I hid from our foster family. We were young, barely teenagers. In the thicket of the forest, that sat directly behind our foster grandparents’ property, my past self sits, nursing his split lip.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Weston,” past me, scolded him.
“And what, Roxy, what was I supposed to do? Stand back and let that motherfucker drag you through the house by thehair on your head?” he asked. “Nobody else was willing to put themselves out there and stand up for you.”
“Because he would’ve turned on them. I understand why they didn’t and so should you, Weston.”
