Page 3 of Sawyer

I grunted, relieved that Garth had made himself scarce so he didn't need to see me like this.

I bet he would have plenty more to say about my condition.

"Can't you do anything else?" I asked Devon.

"Sawyer," he said with a heavy sigh. "We've had this conversation before. Your leg injury healed clean. Have you considered the fact?—"

He was going to say it again, I thought, tuning him out.

Devon had insisted the pain was all in my head, but honestly, he didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

My mind conjured the image of Ryder, in his wolf form, looming over my battered and injured body, closing his sharp fangs over my left leg, applying pressure until I heard a terrifying snap.

I could still recall the venomous words he’d hissed in my ear after shifting back to human form.

“I’ll spare you this time. But next time? Mercy won’t be an option.”

"Thanks anyway, Doc," I said, getting up after he finished bandaging my leg.

Devon looked affronted, his expression suggesting he still had more to say, but I was ready to move on.

"I'm late for my party. Are you coming, by the way?" I asked him.

Devon shook his head. "I need to be here, in case a pack member gets injured or there's an emergency,” he answered.

"Alright, then I'll have someone save you a slice of cake," I said.

I left the pack clinic and slid behind the wheel of my truck.

The party was taking place in the bar Griffin owned and where I worked at night as a bartender.

During the day, I helped out at Miles' bookstore... although I hadn't been able to be there for either Griffin or Miles lately, thanks to me focusing on getting better.

This injury had set me back far too much.

The frustration gnawed at me. I felt like I was failing everyone—Cooper, Griffin, Miles, the pack.

Instead of being the reliable second-in-command, I was hobbling around, consumed by physical therapy and my own bitterness.

I needed to prove I was worthy of my role, not just because I was Cooper’s best friend but because I deserved it.

Finally, I arrived in town. After finding a parking spot, I entered the bar, which Griffin had closed for the evening for the party.

The moment I entered, people yelled, "Surprise!" and "Happy birthday!" I pretended to be clueless, although I had occasionally snooped on Miles when he was helping plan the party.

The bar was filled with pack mates, friends, and family.

The tables were laden with food—barbecued meats, fresh salads, and homemade bread. At the center was a massive cake, decorated with vanilla frosting.

Seeing everyone together, laughing and enjoying themselves, I momentarily forgot about my stupid bet with Garth and the blow to my confidence.

Griffin handed me a drink, clapping me on the back. "Happy birthday, Sawyer. Enjoy tonight, you deserve it,” he said.

For a while, I let myself relax, surrounded by the people who mattered most.

I knew the road to recovery was still long, but for tonight, I allowed myself to relax.

Miles eventually approached me, carrying a small box that seemed to move.