Page 34 of Sabre’s Guard

“No. Don’t get me wrong, you throw good steel. But what I’m talkin’ about is standing up for yourself without flyin’ off the handle and then lettin’ shit go instead of holding a grudge. That takes real maturity.”

He finally says, “Thank you.”

The ride home is quiet, with only the roar of the engine providing background noise. It’s a pretty sunny day, and we’ve had a fantastic time.

Linsey’s sitting on the porch swing, looking pretty as can be. Noah jumps off the bike and is telling her about our day before I can get halfway up the sidewalk. I can tell she’s struggling to keep up with it all because Noah is a fast talker. He tells her about throwing the knives, how he’s technically working on his level two knife thrower patch now, the stuck throws, and the street food. Only a couple of sentences cover the Braden situation. In Noah’s world, knife throwing and street food seem to outrank everything else.

Linsey looks over his head at me. I hold her gaze, realizing all over again how pretty those brown eyes are. She mouths the words ‘thank you’, and I leave feeling a warmth growing in my chest to match the heat I’ve had for Linsey for a while now. Whatever this is we’re building feels an awful lot like a family. And I don’t want to let this little piece of happiness go.

Chapter 10

Linsey

Noah has worn the outfit Sabre got him every single day this week. I had to break down and buy him more black T-shirts and a couple more pairs of jeans to keep from washing the same outfit every single night. He lays out his leather vest on his bedside table every night. He folds it with the little knife-throwing patch facing out, I suspect because he likes looking at the patch as he falls asleep. It’s the last piece of clothing he puts on when he gets dressed for the day. I worry a little that the vest is becoming part of his identity.

Saturday afternoon, I drive out to Sabre’s place. And, of course, Noah is wearing the whole kit. He’s happy as a clam, sitting in the back seat with our cooler beside him. Aunt Carol waves us off from the porch.

Sabre is waiting for us on his front porch when we pull in. And unless I miss my guess, he’s trying a little too hard to act casual. It’s okay because I’m a little nervous too.

He bends over to shake Noah’s hand. “Welcome to my place, Noah.”

He gives me a quick, chaste kiss. “Welcome back, darlin’.”

Noah makes a gagging sound and then laughs.

Sabre takes us around to the backyard, and what we see stops Noah in his tracks. The grill and smoker station are all set up. There’s a long wooden table on his patio. A fire is burning in a big metal fire pit, and there’s comfortable porch furniture to sit on. And on the inside of the fence is a target board adjusted to kid height.

Noah looks at it and then looks at Sabre. “Wow. You’ve got a nice setup here.”

“Thanks. I threw most of it together in the last few days. We’re throwin’ later,” Sabre says. “First, unload your things from the car for your mom, then we cook and eat, and after we relax a bit, we’ll spend an hour or so throwin’. How does that sound?”

“It sounds awesome,” my son responds enthusiastically.

Sabre and I fall into an easy rhythm, much like when we’re cooking or brainstorming ways to keep me and my son safe. He shows Noah how to pull out the awning over his patio, how to check the meat in the smoker without getting burned, and they sip soda together while they shoot the breeze about guy stuff.

When Noah goes in to wash his hands, I steal another kiss. This time, Sabre pulls me into his arms and kisses me like he means it for a few precious minutes. When I pull back, he asks playfully, “What was that for?”

“Because I like you. Good men are hard to find in life, especially for single mothers.”

“We’re not as rare as Michelin chefs, though.”

I frown up at him. “Is that why you’re interested in me?”

He laughs before giving me one of the best kisses we’ve shared. When he pulls back, my mouth is dry, and I’m feeling butterflies. Cupping the side of my face with one hand, he traces over my bottom lip with his thumb. “Don’t they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

I find myself smiling. “Yeah, but you like cooking almost as much as I do. Some men need a woman to fill their stomachs. You don’t.”

“Then it must be all the things about you that I admire put together, darlin’.” His voice is low and warm. It makes me feel things that I shouldn’t be feeling in the middle of the day while trying to have family time.

We go back inside to get sides to go with the brisket. Sabre is all smiles and laughter. When we come back, Noah is leaning against the railing, doing his best Sabre pose without meaning to. “Can we do this again? Like, make it a regular thing we do now?”

“Absolutely,” Sabre responds without thinking it over.

The meal itself is much more than the finger foods his best friend teases him about making because full meals are too much of an obligation. And it’s just our luck that his very same best friend swings by around seven to drop off a part he ordered for his mower.

Talon looks around, taking in the cozy domestic scene, the nine-year-old dressed like a brother, and Sabre and me sitting way too close together. He drops the small box onto the top of the banister and strolls over to the picnic table.

“Miss Linsey. Little brother. It’s nice to see you both again.” Leaning over to look into the smoker, he inhales deeply. “Brisket for dinner, I see.”