Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Roxy
Sleeping doesn’t come to 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.
“Used one of the kids' travel tumblers, thought it’d be easier for you to drink from as we ride,” Saber says and the fact that I can hear him clearly through the helmet is a shocking surprise.
“Appreciate the forethought. Where are we going?” I ask with a little snark in my tone, taking a long, drawn out sip and nearly burning my tongue in the process. My buds are going to hate me later. Shit, I’m not sure where they purchased this canister, but I need to invest in a stock of them if it keeps my coffee this hot.
With a deadpan timbre, he answers with a short, clipped word, “Courthouse.”
“We are, are we?” I inquire. My tone comes across just as sharp as his did.
“Yeah. We are, Foxy. Do we need to put your purse in my saddlebag or are you good with it across your chest like that?”
I look down at my body bag and am thankful that I went with the smaller version because I’m good with where it’s at. If he were to throw one of his temper tantrums, he could keep it locked away and abandon me and I’d be stuck without a phone or any money to get back to the compound. “I’m fine with it where it is, Weston.” If he’s going to toss the name he’s always called me at me , I’m going to return the favor tenfold.
It’s a tit for tat situation and it may be childish, but I’m sick and fucking tired of him going back and forth depending on if he’s pissed at me or not.
I don’t get the reaction I was aiming for—which irritates me. Instead of calling me out on it, he fires up the bike and revs the engine. The jerk! I wanted to get a rise out of him so we could air it out and I could get him to settle on one or the other. It’s driving me to the point of madness. I want to be his Foxy Roxy again, but I’d also settle for only Roxy as long as he sticks to using one and not flipping back and forth.
He’s messing with my emotions. He gives me hope then rips it away from me. I don’t want to go back to that numb place in my mind, it was a deadly place for me to get stuck in. Unfortunately, I feel it rebuilding itself and that frightens me.
We pass Mercy Medical and turn right at the next stop light. The courthouse is on the corner and a smile forms when I take in the architecture. It’s an old-time, gothic structure, much like many of its era is.
I love to travel through older towns and explore these buildings. Some people take Victorian house tours, but I’m an oddball compared to them, I go to courthouses, graveyards, and museums—the older the better. My favorite places to inspect and explore, however, are battlegrounds. There’s so much history to learn about. I’m not only a science nerd who likes to solve mysteries in the human body, but I’m a history buff as well.
“Right up your alley,” Saber says. “Maybe one day you can come back and roam.”
“Maybe,” I respond, hiding my giddiness by shrugging my shoulders as if I could care less. As he shuts down the bike, he swings his leg over and stands, shaking them. I shut the top on my drink and slide off. “Can we store this? I doubt they’ll let me take it inside.”
“Yeah. It’ll keep and stay warm for you to finish when we get done.” He takes it from and puts it in his saddlebag before locking it. “Before we head inside, I want to say a few things.”
“Okay,” I reply, leaning back on his bike and crossing one ankle over the other.
“I want to explain why I’m not making you my old lady on top of marrying you,” he starts off saying. “When we brand a woman, in the eyes of the club, there’s no backing out. It’s forever whereas marriage is just a sheet of paper. There are a lot of issues between us, Roxy. I won’t do that to you or to Canyon. I refuse to stick you into a situation that there’s no escape from. As your husband, what I can promise you is fidelity and respect. Trust may come later on down the road, but as of right now, neither of us are there. Am I right about that?”
“Yes. Trust is a two-way street, Saber. Until we can build a bridge over the ocean of problems we have, it’s not going to happen. I thought about this last night, and even though marriage isn’t the way I believe we should take care of this; I can see the broader picture and know it’s the easiest way to smooth the waters so we can gain custody of the kids.”
“Good analogy,” he snickers. “If there ever was one that explained the shithole we’re in, that’d be it. You doing this for me, it eases some of the pain I’ve felt for so many years.”
“I never did it to hurt you, Weston,” I whisper. “I did it for you, for him, and for me.”
“I know you see it that way, Roxy,” he replies. “But that’s not how it felt then or now.”
“One day, we can sit down and have an adult conversation, Saber. But as you’ve stated, we aren’t there yet. There are still a lot of hurt feelings residing between us.”
“You agreeing to this has settled a lot of those for me, Roxy. And that conversation, we need to have that before Canyon comes into our home.”
“So not only are we going to tie the knot, but we’re going to live together?” I ask.
“Yeah, we are. There are going to be some home visits and it’d look strange if we weren’t living in the same space, don’t you think?”
“I do believe so,” I submit. “Okay, let’s go get that marriage license.”