Page 6 of Glacier

I turned to look at my son. God, wasn’t it only yesterday he was a toddler? How the hell had time flown by so fast? He’d turned sixteen three weeks ago and would be leaving for college in a few years. I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with that.

We were a team, Fin and I.

Some wouldn’t understand the decision I’d made all those years ago, but as far as I was concerned keeping him was something I hadn’t regretted. Not for a single second.

I’d been attacked at fifteen. Dad and Gabe rode bulls on the rodeo circuit. I’d never felt unsafe during all the years we’d been part of the circuit. Everyone knew us—knew me. The fact that the person who attacked me was a friend of our family shook us all.

I had my fifteenth birthday a week before that particular rodeo. I hadn’t been feeling well. Dad and Gabe had the flu the week before, and it looked like it was my turn. They wanted me to wait so one of them could walk me back to our trailer, but I was stubborn, so sure I was safe. We were among friends, after all. Still, I wasn’t a complete idiot. I kept my hand on my knife at all times. I got to our trailer just fine, took my meds, and slid into my bunk.

I was jolted awake what felt like minutes later by someone stripping my pyjamas off me. It all happened so fast. I fought as hard as I could, but I was a young girl up against a full-grown man. Somehow, in the chaos, I remembered my knife. Gripping the handle, I brought it down on his back.

But it was too late. The deed had been done.

He’d taken something from me that night. Something precious that I’d never get back.

Dad and Gabe found him still on top of me, my knife embedded in his back. They dragged him off, and that was the last I saw of him.

I knew what they’d done. They’d killed him. For months, we never spoke of that night. My dad and Gabe pulled out of competing in rodeos. We went home. My grandparents owned a feed store in our hometown, and they were getting older. The plan had always been to return and take it over, but my attack accelerated that timeline.

My dad got me all the help I could possibly need, and I’d be forever grateful to my family. We had been home for nearly eight weeks when we found out I was pregnant.

I knew I had choices. I discussed them at length with my therapist and my family, but deep down, I knew I couldn’t blame my baby. It wasn’t his fault; it was the fault of the person who attacked me. He’d been dealt with, and I would never have to worry about him again.

At first, I considered adoption—until I had my first scan. I knew before the technician had said anything that my baby was a boy. As soon as I saw him, I realised I couldn’t go through with it. There was no way I could give him up. He might have been conceived in the most horrific way, but he also had my blood running through his veins.

And Frasers weren’t weak.

We had backbones of fucking steel.

Had it been hard? Fuck me, yes, it had. There had been the usual talk and name-calling. I held my head high. Nobody knew the truth except my therapist and my family, and that’s the way we kept it. I ignored the rumours. They slowed down over the years. I suppose I could have left to make it easier, but why should I leave my family because of a few small-minded people in our town?

My boy wasn’t stupid, though. He overheard a conversation when he went to a rodeo with my dad when he was ten. He looked nothing like his sperm donor; he was all me. I’d always been grateful for that. But as soon as he walked into our home, I knew something had happened.

It wasn’t an easy conversation, and it was one I never intended to have with him. Not wanting him to carry that burden. We’d gone through a rocky few months. Through my therapist, I’d found him someone for him to talk to, and we’d eventually come out the other side.

I’d had a shit ton of therapy—enough that I could enjoy sex, although the thought of a relationship still gave me hives. Therapy and hospital bills, however, didn’t come cheap. My attack could have broken my family, but instead, it made us stronger. The Frasers banded together in tough times, supporting each other.

It was time to repay that support.

Fin and I needed to convince my dad and brother about this delivery. We’d become involved in moving guns for the Kings because of me, and we had bills piling up.

“There you go,” I said, waving a hand at Fin. “We’ll do it. We know how it works. It will be fine. Dad, you need to heal, and Gabe, you need to get your ass back upstairs to your wife. Fin and I will load up and drop off the order. Sam is opening the shop for us tomorrow, as we arranged months ago when we first found out Libby was pregnant. See? All sorted.”

“Juju, be careful. These bikers aren’t good men,” Dad implored, worry evident in every crease of his face.

Fin moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on and stood shoulder to shoulder with me. I was tall at five-ten, but he’d caught up to me a month ago. At the rate he was eating me out of house and home, he’d be taller than me in a few weeks, I was sure of it.

“We’ll be okay, Grandpa. Mom and I know all the ins and outs of the delivery. You and Uncle Gabe concentrate on things here. Mom and I can take care of each other.”

Gabe and Dad exchanged a look. Resigned, Dad nodded and turned back to us. “Okay, get loaded and on the road. Keep in touch with Gabe so we know you’re okay.”

“We will,” I reassured him. Bending, I placed a kiss on his cheek. “Rest, get better, and don’t flirt too hard with the nurses.”

Dad chuckled and waved me away.

Grinning, I turned to my brother next, as Fin took my place next to Dad. I hugged my brother tightly for a minute before leaning back and gripping his arms. “Don’t be a weak-ass little bitch, Gabe. Get up there and give your wife your support. Tell her we love her and that I can’t wait to spoil whatever Fraser she pushes out.”

Gabe snorted out a laugh, pulling me into his chest for a hard hug. “Love you, Ju. Be careful, okay?”