Chelsea
“Damn, I’m hot as hell,” I mumble, fighting off sleep only to find Smokey against my back, Cooper under the covers and Canyon spooning me. “Canyon? What in the world happened?”
He’s staring at me, worry clouding his eyes. “It wasn’t an episode, Chels, I think it was a nightmare or something, though, because I woke up when the two boys hit the bed and expected I’d be calling 911. Instead, Cooper slipped under the covers while Smokey plastered himself against you. It’s been over an hour now and they’re both asleep so maybe he reacted to a scent change or something. Do you remember what you were dreaming?”
I search my thoughts but come up empty. “No. I mean, I get a sense I was crying, but other than that, no.”
“Maybe that’s what did it. Do you need anything?”
“I’m sweating to death right now, maybe less blankets or something?”
He slips out of bed then helps me out on his side. “Go get changed into something cooler. I suspect these two are going to do this until they get used to being home and you might as well be comfortable.”
“Need a shower,” I grumble, feeling the sweat rolling down my back.
“Then I’m gonna help.”
* * *
“Who knew a late-night shower could be so much fun?” I query, as he carries me back to bed.
This time, instead of long pajama pants, I’m wearing one of my shorts outfits in an effort to stay comfortable.
“Every time is fun with you,” he retorts, smirking at me.
Stroking his jaw which now sports a gorgeous beard, I merely nod in agreement. “You’re so right,” I whisper as he slips me back into the bed, neither dog moving an inch. Turning slightly, I state, “Listen, boys, you’re gonna have to give up some of that room, y’know.”
“They’ll sort it out,” Canyon assures me as he pulls me into his arms then kisses me. “Let’s get some more sleep.”
“Great plan.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Canyon
“So, she got the biggest dog Nick had, huh?” Atlas asks comically as we move toward church, both of us juggling breakfast sandwiches and mugs of coffee.
“Actually, Nick had his buddy, Patrick, whose specialty is training dogs for those who have seizure disorders, do temperament tests on all the dogs already housed at The Sanctuary. Three of them showed promise so Nick did the same thing he did with you. He had all three dogs there then brought us into the room and introduced them to Chelsea. Two of the dogs acted like neither of us were even in the same room while Smokey immediately came forward, circled her multiple times, sniffed at each pressure point, which I still don’t fucking understand, then sat at attention by her side and claimed her as his.”
“Could it have been due to a chemical change in her bloodstream or something?” Atlas asks. “I mean, dogs who are trained to alert people with diabetes detect the subtle shift in their glucose or some shit, so maybe right before she has a seizure, her body emits a scent which lets him know. Hell, I could just be talking out my ass at this point.”
“Probably are,” Brooks snarks, coming up behind us. “Hell, Canyon, your old lady kinda went crazy on buying the kids stuff, didn’t she?”
“Just a little bit, but she likely won’t ever give birth herself because of her medical issues, so if she wants to clean out a store buying them shit, I’m gonna let her.”
As we settle in, Brooks asks, “Why the fuck not?”
“It’s not recommended, especially now that she’s had the second injury and brain surgery, the seizure disorder she was already dealing with is a bit more unstable than it used to be. While the medication isn’t contraindicated for pregnant women which means most women who are expecting go off of it, so they don’t harm their babies, Chelsea’s condition is too fragile for her to go without hers. She accepted that fact a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish it was different.”
“Y’all can always adopt,” Poseidon points out. “There are a shit ton of kids who need good, loving, and stable homes.”
“She’s going to reach out to the local Department of Family and Children’s Services to see about classes and shit, but Pres, would they let us seeing as she’s got a medical condition and I’m a biker?” I query. “Our lifestyle isn’t exactly viewed positively in the spectrum of what’s deemed to be appropriate in the eyes of the law, especially since there have been so many fucking shows out now.”
That’s always a huge pet peeve for me; how bikers are portrayed as being completely lawless thugs when the reality is, they’re a group of like-minded men and probably some women too who prefer doing things their way. Are there some who dabble on the edge of legal versus illegal? Absolutely, but there are just as many doctors, lawyers, and Fortune 500 corporate suits who take the roads to let their cares be eased with solid wind therapy.
“Why the fuck not?” Trident growls out. “We’re a legit club, all our businesses are on the up-and-up, not to mention the fact that all of us were honorably discharged from our respective branches of the military. Surely, if we were good enough to put our lives on the line to protect our great nation, we’re good enough to raise kids who need a fucking home with parents who give a rat’s ass.”
“Yeah, I understand all of that, but wedolive in the fucking South. Bible Belt, USA, so maybe it’s different here?” I retort.