Sharp Left Turn (Sharp Turn Saga #1)

by Faye Byrd

  Trystan chuckles, and it’s like the sun just appeared over the horizon. Weston’s eyes light up. “Easy,” he says, still holding Trystan’s hand. “Where have you been hiding this hunk of man?”

  A flash of heat moves over me. He doesn’t know. They don’t realize. Between the spectacle of when they appeared and Weston’s reaction, the seriousness of the Trystan’s identity has gotten lost in the fray.

  “Um.” I pause and clear my throat. “This is Cameron’s father.”

  The shaking stops immediately as Weston’s eyes jump to mine. “Say what?”

  “This is Cameron’s biological father.” Guilt moves through me when he stares at me with eyes identical to my own. “I’m sorry. He just arrived yesterday, and we’ve barely come to terms with it ourselves. I promise I would’ve called you soon.”

  “Please don’t blame Easton for not introducing us earlier,” Trystan breaks in, finally able to withdraw his hand from a shocked Weston. “Things were a little bumpy at first, but I think we’re in a good place now.” He moves closer to my side.

  Weston waves him off. “Oh, you poor thing. I can only imagine. The news devastated our whole family. We’ve barely had time to adjust ourselves.” He gasps. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  “They knew there was a meeting scheduled with Dr. Scott, but not much more. I’ll call them this afternoon,” I say, soothing his worries.

  “Okay, good.” He leans over to look past Trystan at Cam sleeping on the bed. “Look at that angel.” Moisture collects in his eyes.

  Thankfully, Ryder knows Weston as well as I do, if not better, and moves in to comfort him. “It’s okay, Wes. He’s going home soon, remember?”

  Weston nods and takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “I know, and now he even has his dad.”

  “We were gonna visit a minute, Easy, but since Cam’s asleep, I think Wes and I are gonna just head on out,” Ryder says, his knowing eyes flicking between me Trystan and me.

  Weston’s appalled as he looks to Ryder, but I can’t thank my business partner enough. I love him and my brother, but now isn’t the time. Not when Cam’s asleep, and not while everything is so new.

  “It was nice to meet you both,” Trystan says, effectively dismissing them. His hand settles on my lower back, causing a surge of goosebumps to shoot up my spine.

  Weston pouts a little, but he gives in. “Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “We’ll go, but this isn’t done, Easy.”

  “Just give us a couple of days,” I say, my eyes begging him to understand.

  With a sigh, he reluctantly nods.

  Trystan chuckles and offers a little wave, while Ryder gives us both a smirk as he turns to lead Weston from the room. I sigh, a big, deep heavy sigh. Their timing couldn’t have been worse, and I have no idea how Trystan will feel about the whole situation. My brother’s sexual orientation isn’t something that affects my life, but in this one instance, it could create a hurdle in the relationship we need to build if Trystan isn’t an open person.

  Nudging my back, Trystan spins to lead us back to our seats. “You know, Easton, if it weren’t for the stairwell incident, I’d have a shit ton of questions after meeting your brother,” he says casually as he guides me to my chair.

  That’s not the response I expect and when I chance a look, he’s smirking at me. “Oh?” I say just as casually.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs, waving for me to sit. “Single mother by choice, no boyfriend. A guy could wonder.”

  “But you don’t?”

  He leans down and braces his hands on each arm of the chair, his eyes dark and oh so close. “I don’t. As a man who enjoys the female body, there are certain things that can’t be faked.” He skims his fingers along the slip of skin between my skirt and knee. Goosebumps cover my legs. “Things like that.”

  I sit very still, refusing to acknowledge the effect he has on me, even though my insides are a ball of liquid fire. “Is there something you’re trying to say?”

  He leans forward and skims his nose up my cheek. “While I have no issues whatsoever with Weston’s sexual orientation, I’m glad it isn’t a trait shared between the two of you.”

  His lips ghost over mine as he pulls back, and though it’s a small, swift action, the flutter in my stomach is unmistakable. “My sexual orientation isn’t what matters here,” I finally say, my heart thundering beneath his stare.

  “Our son’s life is what matters. The future baby we’ve agreed to create matters, but the key word here is agreed,” he says, and there’s that tongue again, swiping over his bottom lip. “I’m in. Everything else is completely up to you, but I will promote my assets. You swayed me easily enough, and now it’s my turn to sway you.”

  The heat has created a solid, thick layer of want zapping between us, but I can’t be this weak. Trystan is a gorgeous man and the father of my two boys, but they’re what must be the deciding factor. I can’t allow casual sex to ruin the parental relationship between us.

  The heat dissipates under the clarity of my thoughts, and I school my expression. When I’m sure my voice and reactions are under control, I smirk. “Good luck, Trystan.” My delivery is perfect. Ice queen cold and unaffected. His name leaves my lips with no inflection whatsoever.

  He chuckles darkly. “Well played, Easton. Well played.” He stands and moves back to his own chair, leaving my space free of his presence.

  I can finally breathe normally. The distance between us brings about a normalcy I’m desperate for. The rest of his visit ticks by with small talk and the occasional assurance from Trystan when he notices my anxiety slipping to the surface.

  After a short while, he stands. His hand goes to the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I need to get going.”

  “Oh, okay. Not much longer now then?” I ask.

  “Yeah, a few more hours. I need to get back to the hotel and get a shower, though. I wasn’t exactly planning on staying this long when I showed up here last night.” He takes his keys from his pocket and twirls them on his fingers, acting nonchalant, when he’s really anything but.

  “Of course.” I stand. I’m not sure why. It just feels appropriate in this situation.

  We both know the conversation that took place last night was a new starting point for us all. We made considerable headway in deciding the path we intend to follow with our boys. We realize that we’re connected for life, and we will give them the best outcome possible.

  He steps up to me and links his fingers with mine. “You’re going to do fine, Easton. Trust me.”

  Trust is such a funny thing.

  So easy to ask for.

  So easy to promise.

  So easy to break.

  Yet so hard to earn.

  Trystan hasn’t earned it yet, but I find myself believing him anyway. He knows his … my … son better than anyone, and if he thinks he’ll accept me into his life, then I have no choice but to grab onto that feeling and carry it with me until I know for myself.

  I swallow, and his eyes flick to the motion. They caress my skin. “I’d rather trust you on this than think otherwise.” His eyes jump back to mine. “Please, don’t steer me wrong, Trystan.”

  He steps even closer and brings his hand up, cupping the back of my neck. I try to avoid the eye contact, but he guides me so I have no choice. The sheer determination I see there takes away my breath.

  “Easton, Blake is an amazing little guy just as Cam is. He’s happy and well rounded. After he gets to know you, he’ll realize what a nurturing person you are.” He chuckles lightly and rolls his eyes. “He’ll probably dump me after he meets you.”

  Even though he’s kidding, my mind can’t help but worry about those very things.

  I raise my hand and rest it on his chest. “Don’t joke like that. I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “Hey, hey.” He cups my cheeks in his hand. “We’re both their parents from this point on, no matter what happens. You never have to worry about losing a son. You’re gaining another
. That’s all, I swear.”

  I only nod. I don’t trust myself to speak right now. This man, this situation, is tearing me to pieces. I feel as if one strong gust and I’ll scatter in the wind. How can he be so amazing and so infuriating at the same time?

  “We’ll need to tell them at some point, you know? I’d prefer as soon as possible, but again, I’m willing to defer to you. It’s all you, Easton. You’re in the driver’s seat when it comes to this,” he assures, and that small admission is enough to lift the weight of the moment.

  I smile. “Thank you, Trystan. I don’t have all of the answers, but I’ll try to do what’s right for them.”

  He leans up and slowly presses his lips to my forehead, then steps back. The space between us now feels empty somehow. “I know you will. You’ve already shown loyalty, fierceness and a willingness to forgive. Our boys are in good hands.” He winks. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try my very best to persuade you on other decisions.” His smirk says exactly what those other decisions are.

  I giggle and swat at his chest. “Whatever, Ashby. Go get our boy. I’m dying to meet him.”

  He mock-salutes me and turns to leave the room.

  12 ONE WAY

  Easy

  With Trystan gone and Cam still napping, I use the minutes to reflect on all that has happened since the meeting early yesterday afternoon. The moment I laid eyes on Trystan is when everything I’d spent the past week preparing for solidified. It’s one thing to accept your child, your sick baby, is the biological product of another couple, but it’s an entirely different feeling to see your son in another person.

  I was overwhelmed, at first, but soon I became sympathetic. I was Trystan only a week ago. While my anger and pain bubbled to the surface just as his did, I had an anchor to keep me tethered to the present—Cameron’s illness. I was able to channel all my hurt into hope, and by sharing our son’s journey, I offered him the same lifeline.

  The scene that took place isn’t one I’m proud of, yet I’d repeat in a heartbeat. I never condone unprovoked violence, but the words Trystan spewed wrapped around my heart, squeezing it tightly, and my body simply reacted. I didn’t pause to think of the consequences, but it turned out to be just what was needed. That slap brought the chaos and volatility of the situation under control. It reached somewhere deep inside Trystan, urging him to sit and hear me—to really listen to my words.

  Afterwards, we were able to find common ground. But the next time I saw Trystan, I took an already complicated situation and magnified it by ten. In a desperate moment, a flicker of motherly insanity, I presented an admittedly crazy idea to a man I barely knew. The reaction he gave was equally insane, but somehow, we were not only able to address it, agree even, but he turned it into something else entirely.

  This is where I balk, though. He’s an insanely attractive man who’s proven he has the skill to reduce me to a puddle. But our current relationship is akin to divorced parents who mutually agreed to an amicable separation. We’ve survived the fallout intact and both want the best life we can give our sons. Sex has the power to destroy that, and I can’t allow it.

  What I said to Maddox is correct; there’s a family full of members who’re coming to be tested, but I already know the odds, and they aren’t great. A sibling is always the best chance of a match, and Cameron doesn’t have one, but that can be changed. Umbilical stem cells work differently. They don’t require a perfect match for a successful transplant.

  This is most likely our best hope. I just have to ensure the lines don’t get blurred—for the sake of all of our children.

  My thoughts move from future worries to more immediate matters, and a ball of guilt forms in my stomach. Somehow, meeting Blake feels like a betrayal of Cameron. In my heart, I know it isn’t true, but my head still makes a convincing argument.

  “It’s so easy for you to run off to meet another son while your sick son lies here wondering where you are,” my guilty conscience whispers.

  “But I need to meet him. I carried him for nine months, he’s my son, too,” I reason.

  “He’s Trystan’s son. Cam is your son,” it volleys back at me.

  “No! They’re both my sons,” I think firmly.

  “Yeah, a backup is always nice,” it sneers.

  I gasp. How could I even have these thoughts? “Never!” I communicate to my fucked-up head. “I’ll never think of Blake as a backup because Cam isn’t going anywhere!”

  “Admit it. You’re scared to death. This whole situation is out of your control, and you yearn for control,” it argues.

  It’s true.

  Control is an integral part of me. I’ve always been very stringent in my routines, making sure all I’s are dotted and T’s crossed. So right now, I do feel as if my life is spiraling, but Cam is what holds me to the present. His illness is my focus. Destroying it is my goal—even if it means moving forward with a half-baked plan.

  I do wish I could snap my fingers and everything would be right again, but what is right? I could never go back and unlearn what I know. The only thing I’d change is Cam’s illness. The rest is a permanent change and one to which I can adapt. Over time, the rewards will far outweigh the current turmoil.

  Pushing the guilt from my mind, I call my mom. “Hey, honey,” she says into the line. “How’s Cam?”

  “He’s napping right now.” I glance over to the bed. “But I have news.” I try to sound cheery, and I do have a reason to be cheery, but nerves are gripping me tightly.

  “Well, go on,” she prods, giving that gentle motherly push.

  I take a deep breath and start talking. She knew of the meeting, and because my mother is so intuitive, she also knew I’d come to her when I was ready. I leave out many of the details, but give her an overall picture of where I stand right now and what I need from her.

  “Will you come sit with Cam this evening?” I ask as the encore to my story.

  “Of course, we will, honey.” My shoulders relax at her answer, even though I never expected different. “So you’re going to meet Blake?” she asks.

  “I am. Trystan and I thought it better for me to meet him in private. We don’t want to overwhelm him,” I respond.

  “I can see that. It’s good to hear that you and Trystan already agree on how to handle things,” she tells me.

  I chuckle. “Well, it’s been a little bit of a rocky road, but I think we’ve come to an understanding of the basics.”

  “The basics?” she parrots.

  “Just that the most important things are our sons. As long as we do right by them, we can’t go wrong,” I explain.

  “I see,” she says. “And he just found out the news yesterday? Sounds like he must be an easygoing man.”

  I snort. “Not in the least. He can be a complete asshole at times, but he has shown that he’s willing to put that aside for our boys.”

  She hums. “That’s the second time you said that you know?”

  “What?” I question.

  “Our sons, our boys. You say it like it’s a given,” she responds.

  “Isn’t it? It’s a jarring reality, but reality none the less,” I tell her firmly.

  “But is it really? Aren’t there legal procedures to go through before that’s decided?” she counters.

  I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “Maybe for other people in this situation, but not for us. We’re two, deeply devoted parents who want what’s best for our children. And this is what’s best. The best of both worlds. Yeah, it’ll be hard at times, but I know we’ll make it work. We both want the same thing … to know and love our sons.”

  “Wow, Easy. I can’t express how proud I am of you. Taking a situation like this and making the best of it. I’m proud I raised such a compassionate, levelheaded daughter. This Trystan must be one fine young man, also.”

  I can’t help it, I roll my eyes. Even though she didn’t mean it that way, my mind automatically goes to the image of his body pressed close to mine in the stair
well.

  “He must be.” After saying the words, I realize how true they are. He’s had his moments, but he’s also had the power to make this situation worse than it needed to be and he didn’t–barring some assholishness here and there.

  One fine young man indeed.

  In more ways than one.

  Satisfied with the answers she’s received, she brings an end to our conversation. “Okay, honey, I’m going to finish dinner and let your father know we have plans this evening. What time do you need us there?” she asks.

  I clear my throat. “Their flight is due in at six thirty, so maybe by seven?”

  “Perfect. We’ll see you then. Tell my grandbaby I can’t wait to beat him in Candy Land.” She laughs. It’s a joke between Cam and her. She always says she’s going to beat him but never does.

  “Will do, and thanks, Mom,” I tell her sincerely.

  “Nothing to thank me for. See you at seven.” She ends the call.

  At exactly six forty-two, Trystan sends me a picture message. It’s a selfie of Blake and him at the airport. They have huge smiles on their faces, and even more than the other pictures Trystan has, I can see myself in this little boy.

  It reads: Can’t wait 2 see u. 8?

  Tears automatically spring to my eyes, and I have to blink fast to hold in the wetness. Nerves knot in my stomach, but there’s something else there, too.

  Excitement.

  For just a moment, I allow myself to embrace it. To grab hold and really feel the joy of knowing I’m going to be meeting the child who is a part of me.

  I quickly start typing.

  8 sounds good. See you then!

  We’ll be waiting.

  By the time seven rolls around, my parents are walking in the door. I get up and go to them, hugging first Mom and then Dad. Mom heads straight for Cameron, and as I go to pull away, Dad stops me.

  “Mom tells me you’re going to meet this other little boy tonight?” he clarifies.

  “Yeah, I am.” Just thinking about it brings a small smile to my lips.

  He grabs my shoulders, looking into my eyes. “You still have your pepper spray?”