Free Forgiven: Ryder and Sawyer 3 (Fallen Idols Motorcycle Club Book 9) by Savannah Rylan Page B

deep, cutting at a place that no matter what I said or did, I’d never be able to fix it.
    I fucked up.
    I sat on my bed in my New York City apartment, and reached into my purse, taking out the picture that was never too far from me. It was two years old, and Liam was only three then, but even then, his resemblance to Ryder was uncanny, from his grey eyes to his gorgeous dark hair and that adorable smirk that was full of mischief.
    The picture forced me to remember that I’d made the right choice. He was happy and safe. Completely free of a life full of violence and heartbreak. He had a fighting chance to be anything he wanted to be without being held back by a devotion to a club he just happened to be born into.
    Like always, I kissed the picture, and put it back in my bag for safe-keeping. I glanced around my studio apartment, a far cry from the spacious home where I’d grown up, and where I fled from once again, and tried to hold back the tears.
    I prided myself on being strong, but, lately, I was a goddamned faucet, leaking at anything that managed to get a hold of my heartstrings. Which is exactly why I left Brooks Landing. Mom was getting stronger every day and I just couldn’t handle being so close to Ryder and not being able to see him. I knew if I did, any look or words he had would send me spiraling into a puddle of pathetic sadness and guilt.
    I made a life for myself in New York, and it was time I returned to it, letting the past stay where it belonged. So, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed back to the job that paid for this shoebox I now and forever would call home.
    I wasn’t even a foot out the door when my cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I recognized the area code. Who would be calling me from Brooks Landing? And, did I really care to find out?
    It was hard to escape a past when it kept creeping back into my life. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hello?”
    “Sawyer, it’s Trista.” My heart stopped, and then sped up, because I knew she wasn’t calling me to shoot the breeze.
    “What’s wrong?” I leaned against the hallway wall.
    “You need to get on a plane and get home now. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
    “Please tell me Ryder is okay,” I choked out, as panic consumed me, and tears forced their way to my eyes.
    She didn’t answer for a long moment, her breath heavy in the phone. Finally, she spoke. “It’s not Ryder. It’s Cruz.”
    My legs gave out, and I collapsed on the floor.  

THREE
    SAWYER
    I flew into the San Francisco airport with my heart in my throat during the entire five-hour flight. My baby brother had been shot. He was lying in some hospital bed, in God knows what condition.  Trista refused to give me any more details. She insisted she didn’t know anything else. Claiming all she knew was that he was with Ryder when it happened. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was seeing my brother.
    I tried calling Mom, but she didn’t answer. She was probably already at the hospital. Alone. Because I ran, again, leaving her and Cruz behind. She’d just had major surgery only a little over a month ago, and this was the last thing she needed to deal with on top of everything else.
    My mind raced a million miles a minute. What if I got to the hospital, and it was too late? What if Cruz didn’t make it? Nausea built up inside of me as the plane landed. Instead of pushing toward the exit, I detoured right into the plane’s tiny bathroom, and threw up all of my breakfast, not stopping until I was dry heaving, tears streaming down my face.
    Someone knocked on the door, and I wiped my mouth before pushing the door open. “Sorry,” I muttered to the stewardess.
    She gave me a sympathetic smile, her blue eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay?”
    “Just peachy,” I mumbled before I stood up. She handed me a napkin, and I gratefully accepted it. “Thank you.”
    “Do you need me to