Final Sharp Turn (Sharp Turn Saga #3)

by Faye Byrd

  “I love you, Easy.” His voice is gritty and filled with sex as he slides through my slick folds. “I can’t be slow,” he says only a millisecond before he pushes inside with a firm, filling thrust.

  A satisfying gurgle echoes through my chest and releases in a long, slow moan as my hands reach for him. I need to feel him, both inside my body and beneath my fingertips. I need to taste his wine-tinged breath on my tongue. I need to smell his musky, vanilla scented skin.

  I need all of him.

  10 Exit Only

  Easy

  Day 31

  The next morning, after dropping off Blake, Trystan and I make our way to the hospital to relieve Mom. After only a short ten hours, I’m more than anxious to look Cameron over and make sure he survived unscathed without me hovering every second.

  He’s smiling when I enter the room, eating his breakfast as Puppy Pals plays on the TV. I can’t help it; I rush over and bend to give him loud, sloppy kisses to his cheek. The normalcy of the moment tugs at my heart, making it beat furiously inside my chest.

  He giggles and tries to push me away, but I don’t budge, choosing instead to be annoying because he can take it. My son is well enough to give a hard time. He’s well enough to giggle. My son is going to be okay.

  “Stop it, Mama,” he says, his little laughs soothing my soul. “I eatin’ bweakfast!”

  I let go and stand, placing my hands on my hips and giving him a mock-serious expression. “Well, I’ll let you continue then. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here crying.”

  “I got bacon,” he says excitedly, holding a piece up for me to see. “Love you.”

  “Love you, baby. Now eat,” I say, crinkling my nose to let him know I’m only teasing him anyway.

  As Cam continues to eat and watch TV, I find my spot on Trystan’s lap as he and my mom speak quietly in the two chairs on the other side of the bed. “What’s going on over here?” I ask, looking between them, and judging by their expressions, it’s more serious than I want to hear.

  “Nothing bad, sweetie,” Mom says with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I was just telling Trystan that your fathers want you to meet them in the cafeteria for breakfast. Now that you’ve seen Cam is well, you can go and I’ll stay with him a little longer.”

  My brows furrow. “But we’ve already eaten.”

  “Baby,” Trystan says, brushing his hand along my ponytail. “They have some things to discuss. New information.”

  “Oh.” I glance between them. “Did something happen?”

  “Apparently, my father has spoken with Kennedy,” he replies, and a tremor runs through me. Not the good kind either. “And it didn’t go according to plan.”

  With one simple sentence, my bubble is busted. This woman, who could care less about either of these boys, is still out there playing her game. She won’t win. We’ll fight her with everything this family has in its arsenal, and even I can admit, it’s a lot. There’s my husband with his ironclad divorce agreement, my father, an esteemed law official, and my father-in-law who has more money than she could spend.

  Whatever her plan, it won’t work.

  We can’t let her near our boys.

  “When?” I ask, because what else can we do? We need to face this, and the only way to do that is by staying abreast of all the facts.

  Trystan rubs my back with a sigh. “Let’s go get a coffee while we wait.”

  I nod, getting up from my spot on his knee. “Let me just tell Cam.”

  Trystan grabs my arm as he stands. “I got it. I don’t want him breaking your heart again. I can take it.” He gives me a playful wink as he goes to speak with our son. I watch them talk quietly for ten seconds before Trystan is straightening and coming back my way. “Yeah, he could care less. I think we’ve smothered him.”

  As we grasp hands and start toward the door, I lean my head against his arm. “The fact that he’s well enough to complain is everything.”

  “You got that right. It actually feels fucking good,” Trystan agrees as we walk down the hallway.

  The trip to the cafeteria is quick and relatively quiet in the early morning. Not spotting either father, Trystan settles me at the same table where we talked last time and goes to grab us both a cup of coffee. It’s not very good here, but it’ll serve as a distraction at the very least. There’s no telling what’s been said between Reed and Kennedy.

  When Trystan’s back, he settles our cups on the table and turns to me with a sigh. “I don’t know what he’s going to say, but just remember, whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. I love you. I love all of you with every part of me, and that bitch will never touch our sons.”

  I reach up and brush my thumb along his pursed lips. “I know she won’t, Trystan. And your love is a gift we all treasure dearly.” His stance softens, and he sucks the pad of my thumb into his mouth.

  A chair scraping against the tile startles me. “No, continue,” Reed says with a wave of his hand. “This can wait.” The smirk directed over my shoulder says everything. My dad is standing right behind me.

  Trystan sports a smirk of his own and places a lingering kiss on my lips before facing Reed. “Nice of you to join us.” His eyes flick to my dad as he comes into view. “Both of you. Now have a seat and fill us in on what happened.”

  My dad takes a seat and looks to Reed. “I think you should share how the meeting went.”

  Reed nods and leans on the table between us, keeping his voice low. “I had a meeting with the tramp.”

  “And?” I prod, my fingers gripping my Styrofoam cup like a lifeline.

  He blows out a gust of air. “She was skittish, suspicious even. She shied away from any kind of talk about money. She yammered on and on about her poor sick kid and how we’ve kept him from her.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  Reed shakes his head. “I know, honey. I know. I’d like to think she was onto me and that’s why she acted the way she did, but I can’t be sure. We need to figure out something else.”

  “I wouldn’t say this plan should be completely trashed. There’s nothing saying she won’t contact you. If she was skittish, then it could be because she suspected a set-up.” My dad runs his hand over his chin. “I think we need to refine this plan to be ready whenever she contacts you.”

  “What are you suggesting, Harold?” Trystan asks, leaning closer. “I think it’s obvious she’s not going to trust my father. Hell, maybe not any of us.”

  My dad leans closer, and we all push our heads in to keep the conversation as quiet as possible. “I think she’ll get in touch with you. We need to be ready for whenever, or however, that is. I want to put voluntary taps on your phones. All of you”―he eyes each of us―“and I’ll have Investigator Masters and his team working around the clock. When she makes contact, it needs to be documented from start to finish.”

  “You think it’ll work?” I ask, my eyes pleading with my father to say yes.

  He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I think she’s here for money. And if that’s the case then she will be in touch. It’ll just be on her terms, and we’ll have to be prepared for that.”

  “Can you? Be prepared for that, I mean?” Trystan asks. “What if it isn’t through the phone? What if it’s another way?”

  Reed taps his pointer finger on the table, his brows pursed in thought. “What kind of security do you have at home?”

  Trystan sits up straighter at this question, glancing to me for confirmation. “The standard electronic monitoring system, I believe.”

  I nod. “Yes, but it’s never been set off before.”

  “I think we need to go one step further,” Reed says, giving my dad a glance. “Let’s get a camera system set up. The yard, the front door, hell, the living room, too, if that’s all right with you two.”

  My brows rise as Trystan looks to me for an opinion. “Is that really necessary?”

  “I think it’s a grand idea,” my father says with a definitive nod. “Not only will it p
rovide extra security for my grandsons, but if she does happen to make an appearance, it’ll all be recorded and admissible in a court of law.”

  Trystan stays quiet, looking to me for the final say. I take a deep breath and nod. “If you think it is necessary, then I’m on board.”

  “I’ll make the call today,” Trystan says, giving the two men a nod.

  Reed shakes his head. “No, son, let me take care of it. It’s the least I can do for not nipping this shit in the bud years ago.”

  “Go for it, Dad, but you don’t owe me anything. I’m a grown man, and I was then, too. She’s probably blown through her settlement and sees this as an opportunity to fatten her pockets.” He looks to me as he says his next words. “This isn’t on any of us. It’s no one’s fault this is happening but hers.”

  Pride swells inside me as I meet his earnest gaze. Hearing him finally accept what I’ve been telling him all along makes him even more special than he already was—and that’s saying a whole lot. This man has swept into my life and turned everything on its head, but in the best way imaginable.

  “Consider it done,” Reed says, giving his son a firm nod. “I’ll have the company get in touch with you for scheduling, but I want this done ASAP.”

  “I’ll make myself available whenever,” Trystan says, “but is this going to be enough?”

  “Son, I can’t personally oversee this case, but you can damn well bet I’ve ramped up the team since her arrest,” my dad says, his stance full of confident determination. “There will always be someone monitoring your phone lines for contact, and if she shows up at your house, just place a call and they’ll be on their way. Don’t forget, you also have a restraining order, Trystan.”

  I inhale a huge gust of air and blow it out. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Trystan nods at my side. “Yeah, uh … thanks, Harold, Dad, both of you, for stepping in when we needed you most.”

  Reed shakes his head. “I’m just sad I was so stubborn before. You were young and in love and picked the wrong girl, that’s all. I should’ve seen that instead of acting like an ass. We wouldn’t have one of our grandsons if it weren’t for her.”

  And he’s right.

  So very right. Cameron wouldn’t even exist were it not for this woman, so for that alone, I hold some thanks in my heart. But just a sliver.

  She still has to go, one way or another.

  Day 33

  I’m sitting in the playroom watching Weston crawl around on the floor as he plays a game with Cam and two other little boys. Ever since Blake’s last visit, Cam has been permitted to leave his room, venturing into the hallways and the children’s playroom. After all he’s been through, it feels so good to see him reverting to the role of a normal, healthy child.

  As they race cars around a carpet with a racetrack design, I take in all the children around us. David once spoke of their resiliency, but at the time, I really had no idea. I see it here, in this room, and I finally understand. These kids are going through or have gone through things adults can barely handle, yet each one is here and just … happy to be alive.

  The light has never left their eyes.

  My musing is interrupted by the soft voice of Dr. Sen. “Ah, there you are, Easy.”

  Startled by his appearance, since we just spoke this morning, I stand. “Is everything okay?” I ask nervously.

  He holds up his hands. “Please, no need for alarm. Sit.” He motions to my vacated seat and takes the one beside it. “I personally wanted to share the good news.” His brows furrow as he glances around the room. “Is Trystan not here?”

  “No. He’ll be coming this afternoon with Blake,” I respond, a feeling of excitement building within me. “But you said you have good news?”

  “I do. Very good news,” Dr. Sen says, nodding. “Apologize to Trystan for me, since I simply cannot wait to share it.”

  “Go on,” I say, but it’s barely able to leave my lips. My ears are tuned, and my mind has already started accepting words he hasn’t even spoken.

  “Cameron is doing excellent, as this morning’s tests have reconfirmed,” he says with a dramatic pause. “I can now confidently relay that he will be going home later this week. I will be in first thing in the morning to specify which day.” I’m so overwhelmed with relief that I can barely react, but Kabir recognizes this and gives my knee a firm squeeze to remind me this is real. “Please, make sure and tell Trystan that I would like to see him there.”

  I wipe away the errant tears that are rolling down my cheek. “He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Good.” Dr. Sen smiles and stands. “He will still need to be monitored carefully, but his body has handled the transplant remarkably well, and I expect the same moving forward.”

  Unable to resist, I stand and throw my arms around his shocked form. After a tight hug of gratitude, I pull away apologetically. “I’m sorry, but thank you so much for everything.”

  “This is the most rewarding part of my job, Easy. Thank you for trusting me with his life.” With a tilt of his head, he’s out of the room as swiftly as he entered.

  Day 34

  Home.

  We received the news this morning. Our son will be coming home Saturday morning. Two days and our life will be whole again. Our family will be whole again. For the first time in a month and a half, I can finally take full breaths.

  “I done, Mama,” Blake says, holding up his hands for me to lift him from the tub. I dry him off, and while he gets dressed, I select Trystan’s number and hit call.

  “Hey, baby, you two ready?” he asks, answering the phone.

  “Almost,” I say, helping our son into his bed. “Waiting for Blake to get under the covers.”

  When he’s sufficiently snuggled down, I turn off the lamp and cuddle close beside him. I place the phone on speaker. “We’re all set. Things ready on your end?”

  It’s Cam who responds. “We ready.”

  “Night, brother,” Blake says loudly so Cam can hear.

  “Night,” Cam sing-songs.

  I smile to myself as Trystan starts reading to them through the phone. Lost in the voice of my husband, I ponder the journey we’ve taken. The road has been rough and varied, but it’s a trip I’ll never regret. Even now. Especially now. My son has faced the worst and has made it through to the other side.

  He’ll start off with weekly visits to David, just like before, but as long as his results continue to remain positive, those weekly visits will turn bi-weekly and then monthly. Aside from the small chance of an unexpected complication, there’s nowhere to go from here but up.

  Blake’s quiet snores reach my ears, and I focus on Trystan’s soft, dreamy voice as it echoes from the phone. “Psst,” I say, interrupting him. “All clear here.”

  “Here, too, baby,” he answers, and I can hear him moving around. “So, what are you wearing?”

  I get up and leave the room, giggling at his corny self. “I’m going to be wearing nothing,” I say teasingly, just to hear him groan. “I’m on my way to the shower.”

  “Don’t be a tease, Easy,” he warns. His voice is sinful perfection, low and gritty.

  An involuntary moan escapes. “Never,” I say breathlessly.

  “Goddammit, baby. You’re going to leave me in a predicament, aren’t you?” he asks, and I can picture him settled beneath his blanket with his hand on his cock.

  I sigh and lean against my dresser. “Soon, Trystan. We’ll be together again soon.”

  “I know. Fuck, it’ll be heaven.” Then he sighs. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. So much.”

  “All right, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yep, I’m off to the shower,” I say, giggling as I pull out a pair of PJs.

  “Night,” he replies, his voice a low growl.

  I sigh as I press end, my whole being yearning to jump right on the bed and have phone sex with him, but I can’t. We can’t. He’s at the hospital with our son.

&nbs
p; A thrill runs through me.

  Our son who is coming home.

  With that thought propelling my steps, I practically skip toward the en-suite, but the sound of the doorbell catches me off guard. As I make my way downstairs, I absently wonder who’s popping in at this time of the evening. Yet the closer to the door I get, my steps begin to falter. An unease settles in the pit of my stomach as I stand before it. Holding my breath, I gingerly lift to my tiptoes so I can see out the peephole.

  Kennedy.

  As I drop back down, my breath leaves me in a whoosh, my mind swiftly flicking through my options. With a sneer, I quietly move away from the door and pull out my phone.

  “Easy,” my dad answers, the question evident.

  “She’s here, Dad,” I whisper. “Kennedy.”

  “Make her talk, honey. The cameras are ready, and we’re on our way.” His voice is pure business as he delivers my marching orders.

  “Just hurry,” I say before ending the call and turning back to the door.

  Pushing down the queasiness her appearance brings, I take the few steps separating us and snatch open the door, ready to rip this woman to shreds. “What do you want?” I snap, angry that she has the nerve to show up at my house.

  “Easton, or should I say the new Mrs. Ashby,” she sneers, and the sound of her voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

  I smirk. “Yes, it is Mrs. Ashby to you.”

  Her lips turn down in the corners. “I suppose it is.”

  I cross my arms, trying to battle the wave of disgust bubbling in my stomach. “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “Such a touchy little thing, aren’t we?” She laughs into the cool, night air. “I want a couple of things, Easton. The question is, do you want me gone enough to give them to me?”

  I try so very hard to cover my gasp. This is it. This is the moment Dad was trying to prepare us for. She’s come to us. To me. Am I ready? I have to be. It’s time to end this once and for all.

  Knowing the cavalry is coming, I work to make her spell out her plan. “Look, Miss Parker, I’m not sure I follow exactly what you mean. I have nothing to give you.”