Page 139 of Rose
“Thanks, Olive Oil,” Savior smirked, earning a middle finger from her as she flopped onto the bed beside the twins.
“What are you doing for your birthday?” Sarai asked, her voice hopeful, sweet.
Savior hesitated. How could he explain that nothing was planned, because nothing ever was? That the twins got parties and pancakes, but for him, it was just another test to survive.
Before he could speak, the door burst open. Saint stepped in, dressed in his usual white tee and basketball shorts. No smile. No happy birthday. Just sharp eyes and a harder tone.
“Ready? I thought I’d have to come drag your ass outta bed.”
Sarai ran to him, her small arms around his waist in full daddy’s girl fashion. Savior watched the shift in Saint’s eyes—how they softened for her in a way they never had for him.
“Daddy, Savvy’s running again today? But it’s his birthday,” Sarai said, confused. “Yeah, today should be about stuffing cake in his face. Mommy made us a big breakfast. Where’s Savvy’s big breakfast?” Sincere added, climbing down from the bed in his Spiderman pajamas.
Saint looked at his youngest son, then to Savior, who didn’t return the glance. He knew better.
“You want a big breakfast, Savior?” Saint asked.
It was a trap. His tone said it all. Say yes, and he’d pay for it later. Say no, and maybe he’d avoid a bruise today.
“No… I’m good. We can go run.” His voice betrayed him, cracking just slightly.
Selene popped into the doorway, face fresh, robe tied loose. “Twins! I’ve been looking for you. Breakfast is ready.”
Sincere bolted past her without a second thought. Saint gently set Sarai down, but she stood firm, arms crossed, defiance in her little face.
Olivia gave Savior a sad, silent look—wishing she could offer more than just presence, but knowing she couldn’t. So, she stayed on the edge of his bed, quietly watching, holding space in the only way she knew how.
“Savior should eat breakfast too. It’s his birthday. He’s already big and muscular—he don’t need to run no more,” she said with attitude, earning the smallest, saddest smile from him.
Saint’s jaw clenched. Selene gave Savior a look—soft, guilty—but he felt no warmth in it.
“Happy birthday, Sav,” she offered.
“Thanks.”
“Go eat, Gold,” Saint said. “Savior will eat when he gets back.”
Sarai huffed but turned and ran straight into her brother’s arms. Savior scooped her up and held her close. Even at ten, she was still his baby sister.
“I promise to eat Mommy’s big breakfast when I get back,” he whispered, kissing her cheek.
“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes too. Aunt Marley taught me. I know you love those,” she whispered back, kissing his cheek in return.
“Thank you, Gold.”
He set her down gently and watched her skip off, grabbing Olivia hand as they exit. The door closed behind them. The silence returned. The run awaited. And just like every other birthday, he left the house with an empty stomach and a full heartache.
Savior followed his father out of the house, expecting the usual morning run, but paused when Saint opened the door to the 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback—his pride and joy, the car he treated better than anything else. Maybe even better than his own son.
“I thought we were running?” Savior asked, confused.
Saint tossed him the keys without a second glance. “Let’s go for a ride instead. You’re driving.”
Savior blinked, stunned. “Really?” His voice cracked with disbelief. He expected a trick, a test, not this. Not freedom.
“You finally thirteen,” Saint said, sliding into the passenger seat. “One step closer to being a man. It’s time you start acting like one.”
Savior tried to hide the grin spreading across his face as he climbed behind the wheel. He didn’t have a license, but he’d been driving for years—Saint made sure of that. This felt different though. A gift. A moment.
