Sharp Right Turn (Sharp Turn Saga #2)

by Faye Byrd

  Tears spring to my eyes as he collects a loose strand of hair and tucks it into the clip on top of my head before pulling me to his chest where I allow them to fall. I cry for hurting Trystan. I cry for hurting myself. I cry because I’m afraid to take a risk that might make my boys even happier, but it’s also that thought which allows me to dry my tears.

  Risk.

  If I were risking anything besides their happiness, I would gladly do so. But when it comes to them, I have to be strong. They depend on me to give them the best life possible, and while there is a possibility of better, there’s also the possibility of worse. Way worse, and I won’t do that to them.

  I pull away and wipe my face. “You’re right. I was willing to give you every part of myself but the important one, and that’s not fair to either of us.”

  Trystan grabs my hand. “Just because I’m drawing a line, it doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I know you feel the same as me, and I’m just going to step the fuck back and give you some space. Maybe with time, you’ll feel differently.”

  My eyes fall closed, his open declaration tugging at my resistance. “I’m sorry,” I say, opening my eyes. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  He pushes close and gently swipes his lips against mine. My breath catches, and he leans back with a smirk. “Don’t worry about me, Easton.”

  When I wake Monday morning and head downstairs, I’m shocked to see Trystan at the stove already cooking. He turns when he hears me and smiles. “Morning. Thought you might need a good breakfast on your first day back to work.”

  My heart catches in my throat. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve eaten a bowl of cereal.”

  He scoffs. “Nonsense. That stuff’s disgusting.”

  Deciding not to make anything of how wonderful he’s being, I pick up his light mood and toss it back at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Yummy fruity bits drenched in milk doesn’t sound so bad.”

  He lifts the pan from the stove and swirls it in my direction, allowing the most mouth-watering scent to fill my nostrils. “Better than this?” He smirks at my slack jaw and places the pan of yummy smelling French toast back on the stovetop.

  “Definitely, not better than that,” I say when I can finally speak again. “Thank you, Trystan.”

  He glances at me, and when he notices my expression, his shoulders slump. “Easton, don’t ever think I’d let you go to work on fruity shit. We’re a team, remember?”

  I look down to the bar top, avoiding his eyes. “You’re kinder than I deserve.”

  I hear him moving around, but I refuse to look up. It only takes a minute before a plate is slid in front of me, and his body is perched on the stool beside me. His fingers go to my chin, turning me to face him. “Easton, I get it, okay? It’s hard, but I get it. Don’t beat yourself up. This family … our family is the most important thing, and I adore you even more for standing up for that.”

  My eyes close because he’s killing me with his kindness, and I don’t deserve it. I’m hurting us both and can’t make myself stop no matter how much I wish I could. The fantasy plagues me at night when I’m alone in my bed, torturing me with images of things I’ll never have because that’s all it is. A fantasy. In the real world, he’ll never be mine.

  “You’re pretty amazing.” I brush my hand along his jaw and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. I drop my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Ever.” He smirks, instantly lightening the situation. “And I am pretty amazing, after all.”

  With a giggle, I shake my head and dig into my delicious breakfast. After a few minutes of us both eating quietly, I work up the nerve to broach a forgotten subject. Since our talk Thursday night, things have been different. Our family is still amazing, but it’s like everything personal between us never happened. Our every interaction revolves around our sons.

  I place my fork on my plate. “So, um, since we’re not um … ”

  Trystan pauses with a bite mid-air and turns to me with a brow lifted in my direction. “Um, what? Is there something you’re trying to say, Easton?”

  I take a breath and spit it out. “Sex, Trystan. Since we’re not having sex anymore, I was wondering if you planned to go to the clinic?”

  He studies me carefully. “Can I ask you something before I answer that?”

  I swallow my nerves. “Sure.”

  He grips my shaky hand. “Stop. There’s nothing to be nervous about when it comes to me. Okay? You can ask me anything, anytime.” He waits for my nod. “Are you sure this is what you want? You want to have another baby and for me to be the father? And you want to do it now, instead of waiting until after Violet is tested?”

  I close my eyes for a second to gather my thoughts. When I reopen them, I meet his gaze with my head held high. “I want another baby, and I want you to be its father.”

  He props his elbows on the bar and buries his head in between his hands. “I … I don’t know what to say.”

  My pulse starts racing. “Did I say something wrong? Are you … Have you changed your mind?”

  His green eyes turn to me with such tenderness. “No, Easton, I haven’t changed my mind. At all. It makes my heart pound inside my fucking chest to hear you declare that so boldly. So fucking sure.”

  “I am sure,” I say, squeezing his knee. “Who better than the father of my other children? You’re amazing at it. Any child will be lucky to have you.”

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “Do you think we should wait until we know if Violet is a match? I mean, it’s up to you, but I’m not sure being pregnant during the transplant process is the best thing.”

  I tug at my bottom lip, considering his suggestion. “Kari’s thirty weeks now, and if they submit to the amnio, we’ll know for sure in less than nine weeks.” I take a deep breath and blow it out. “It generally takes a few attempts, but I think waiting will be okay. If Violet is a match, I want my full focus to be on Cam. And if she isn’t, hopefully, I can get pregnant soon.”

  “Do you know you’re not pregnant now?” Trystan asks, causing my cheeks to burn.

  “I’m not,” I say definitively, hoping he doesn’t make me tell him that I took a negative test on Saturday.

  “Okay.” He shrugs. “So we’ll wait.”

  “I’d like to go ahead with my consult appointment. And … So you’ll donate then?” I ask, and images of us naked flash through my mind. It takes all I have to continue this conversation.

  His nose crinkles. “I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this, but yes, I’ll donate.”

  Unbidden images flash through my mind. Trystan in a nondescript room with his head thrown back and his hand moving rapidly up and down his cock. A magazine spread before him with a naked woman in the picture.

  A woman that isn’t me.

  I shake the images away and try to keep the conversation light, though inside it’s killing me. “My, my, how times have changed.”

  His easygoing smile drops. “Yeah, they have.”

  Three simple words are enough to gut me.

  But I did this.

  The repercussions belong to me.

  I keep my expression as even as possible and say, “Okay, I’ll contact the clinic today and make an appointment.”

  “Sounds good,” he agrees and goes back to eating his cold French toast.

  After finishing my coffee, I stand and stretch. “I need to get dressed. You want me to wake the boys and send them down for breakfast?”

  “Nah, let them sleep.” He shakes his head. “Oh, wait, did you want to spend a few minutes with them this morning?”

  “It’ll be okay. I’ll just go in and kiss them bye.”

  “All right, but only if you’re sure,” he says with a smile. “Maybe we can pop in for lunch some time?”

  “That’d be great. I love your cooking,” I say, as I slip my dishes into the dishwasher. On the way back by the bar, I stop and grab his hand. “I appreciate you, Trystan, so much. I really don’t know what I’d
do without you.”

  “You’d do what you always do. You’re strong and determined, and I have no doubt that you could do it all without me,” he responds, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. The skin burns where his lips touch, and I want to beg him to make me burn all over.

  But I push it down and keep things light because I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. And even if he did, I deserve to suffer. “But why would I want to? I know what it’s like having you around now.” I give him a cheeky wink and start for the stairs.

  “You wouldn’t.” His cocky voice follows me out of the room.

  As soon as I get off the elevator, a body is wrapped around mine. “Oh my God, Easy. It’s so good to see you again. This place has been crazy without you,” Tasha exclaims, hugging the life out of me.

  I laugh at her appreciation and hug her in return. “Thanks, Tasha, and I’m glad to be back.”

  She pulls away, but keeps her hands on my arms. “I have so many questions. Sure, Ryder’s kept us in the loop, but it almost seems unbelievable what you’ve been through since I visited Cam in the hospital.” She squeals and hugs me once more. “I’m so happy to see you, and this can only mean one thing, right? Cam is going to be okay?”

  I weigh that question, not sure how to answer. “He is … for now, anyway. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you grab us both a coffee and meet me in my office for a catch-up chat.”

  “You got it. I’ve never been happier to fix my boss a coffee.” She has a bounce in her step as she makes her way to the break room.

  Sitting behind my desk feels foreign; as though it was another lifetime when I was here, and in some ways, maybe it was. Before I have too much time to dwell, Tasha enters with two steaming cups in hand.

  “Here you go.” She places one in front of me and takes the empty chair across from me. “I read the interview in The Beacon, but Lord, Easy, how have you coped with all this? Last we spoke, you didn’t know anything about the switch. I wanted to visit more, but Ryder insisted you needed space. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  I hold my hands up to stop her babbling and start filling her in on what has transpired since her visit to the hospital the day after Cam was admitted. She sits in awe and listens to the whole story. Sometimes her brow furrows, sometimes her chin drops and sometimes she almost speaks, but I stop her so I can get out the whole tale, well, as much as I’m willing to share, at once.

  When I’ve finished, she lifts one perfectly arched brow. “Both Blake and his father live at your house with you and Cam?”

  I nod.

  “Okay.” She looks contemplative. “And there’s a possible match for Cam in Trystan’s family?”

  “Possibly, maybe, I don’t know. David thinks there’s a chance,” I say, my own insecurities showing.

  “Have you considered running a donor drive type thing? You know, a public event asking anyone and everyone to get tested?” she asks, and it’s actually a good idea.

  I shake my head. “We did plea for the public to get tested in the interview, but having an event hasn’t crossed our minds. We’ve been focused on other avenues.”

  “Like what?” she asks, leaning closer as if she expects me to spill some dirt, and really, I guess it is pretty scandalous. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

  “Um, we’re considering creating a life that would be a possible match,” I say, having no intentions of telling her more than that.

  Her eyes widen, but then they narrow slightly. “And he agreed to this?”

  I sigh. “He has.”

  She takes a sip of her coffee and sets it back on my desk. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than you’re saying?”

  I close my eyes and shake my head before focusing back on her. “It’s complicated, Tasha, and I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay, I can accept that … for now.” She nods. “So, when am I going to get to meet Blake?”

  This automatically brings a smile to my lips. “Trystan mentioned this morning that he’ll bring them by for lunch one day soon.”

  She studies me curiously and must decide it isn’t worth it because she smiles and takes another sip. “I can’t wait.”

  “Good,” I say snapping into work mode. “Now catch me up on what’s been happening around here.”

  She fills me in on the new accounts we’ve gotten while I was gone and some of the ways she’s handled any issues that came about. Then she moves to the things that need to be done. I almost feel overwhelmed with it all, but this is exactly what I need to get my mind off the sexy man at my house right now, tending to my most prized possessions.

  After we’ve settled on a plan of action, she stands. “I really am glad to have you back, Easy.”

  I smile and pick up the first file in a stack of many. “It’s good to be back, even if it is only three days a week.”

  Her face falls. “Still a tough road ahead, huh?”

  “Yep, we’re a long way from this being over, but for now, it’s going okay.” I pick up my cup of untouched coffee and take a sip, grimacing at the cold taste.

  She laughs. “Would you like me to get you a refill?”

  “Sure, that would be great. And thank you, Tasha, for being here when I couldn’t,” I say, meaning it wholeheartedly.

  “Where else would I be?” She smiles, grabbing my cup and heading for the door.

  As soon as she’s gone, I pick up my phone, scrolling until I find the clinic’s number. It breaks my heart to make this call, but this is what I wanted from the beginning. By giving in to Trystan’s near-constant flirting, I’ve put us both in pain and allowed something to fester between us.

  Tasha slips in and places my coffee down while I’m on the phone. I explain to them what I need and set up an initial consultation next Tuesday for Trystan so I can watch the boys while he goes. And one for myself the following week after his. Once the appointments are made, I rock back in my chair and rub at the ache in my chest.

  Why did that call hurt so much?

  Why do I feel like crumpling into a ball and crying like a baby?

  Why can’t I at least try?

  I finally shake it off and get to work, scanning through several designs Tasha left with me. After a couple of returned calls and a visit to catch up with Ryder, I find myself behind my desk again, lost in the thoughts of the clinic.

  Can I really give Trystan up?

  Can I allow him to be happy with someone who isn’t me?

  Can I go through a pregnancy with him as the father and remained detached?

  I picture myself, my stomach swelled with a child. Trystan is there, his hands resting on my belly, his soothing voice speaking words of love to our unborn baby. Wetness floods my eyes as I yearn for that moment, and tears begin leaking down my cheeks with the realization of what I’ve done.

  I’m terrified of hurting our boys, but what good are we as parents if we’re both broken over my decisions? I know Trystan, and more importantly, I trust Trystan. He’d never allow our bitterness to affect them, and he’s proven that every day since Thursday when I rejected him so thoroughly.

  Tasha’s giggle through the open doorway breaks me from my epiphany and my brows furrow, wondering what has her so tickled that I can hear her laughter from my office.

  But then I hear another sound; one I know with every fiber of my being.

  It’s a chuckle.

  A deep, dark, sexy chuckle.

  One that sets my body on fire.

  One that’s ingrained into my very soul.

  Slowly, I get up and wipe the tears from my face before making my way to the threshold of my door. What I see from there makes my blood run cold and a fire ignite in the pit of my stomach.

  Trystan has his fists propped on the front of Tasha’s desk, leaning forward. He’s sporting a cocky smirk, and his eyes are twinkling with mischief while she bats her lashes and giggles as if she’s fifteen years-old.

  Rage consumes me.

/>   I cross my arms over my chest, to keep myself from scratching her eyes out, and do the only thing I can.

  I clear my throat to get their attention.

  9 Steep Ascent

  Trystan

  The boys made their way down not too long after Easton left for work, and I settled them at the bar and served up a fresh batch of French toast. Afterwards, they got dressed for the day while I cleaned the kitchen. We settled in the family room for a movie and then spent another hour or so building a fort. Right now, they’re in the backyard with Blue while I get started on lunch.

  I take a batch of homemade tomato soup from the freezer and get it heating on the stove. Then I assemble grilled cheese sandwiches and turn on the griddle. While I’m waiting for it to heat, I grab my phone and dial my brother.

  “What’s up, bro?” Coop says into the line.

  “Nothing really, just wanted to talk to my brother,”

  “Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise I take it?”

  I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Nah, no trouble. Things are definitely changing, though.”

  “Changing … how?”.

  I peek out the window to make sure I can see the boys and go back to the stovetop to add the sandwiches to the griddle, flipping a large frying pan over on top to help melt the cheese. “I guess I’m going to be donating sperm.”

  “W-what?” he sputters.

  I roll my eyes. “Come on, man. This is serious. I just can’t do it anymore.”

  “You? So this wasn’t Easy’s idea?” he asks, confused.

  “No,” I say with a sigh. “I can’t keep sleeping with her. I … I feel too much.”

  “Wow,” he responds, breathing into the line. “So you’re admitting it then? You’re in love with Easy.”

  I ponder his question for a second. I’ve only known her a little over a month, and if I’m being honest, I don’t trust myself to know what love is after Kennedy. I thought what we had was real. I abandoned everything I knew and followed her around like a puppy, only to learn it was all about money. I was good enough to keep around until I expected more than she was prepared to give.