Now would be a good time to call time out, but before I do, I pay close attention to Luca as he squeezes his free hand into a fist, puffs a breath out into the air, bows his head, and I can barely make out the movement of his lips as his teammates hurry in for a huddle.
He’s counting. That checks my temper, makes my decision not to make the call right there, and replaces it with pride.
I rough a hand through my hair, turn toward the stands to see my new bride, daughter, and every member of my family sitting there watching Luca’s first football game. Including Renita, Norah, Victoria, and Lorenzo. The man, thank fuck, is all smiles, paying attention to Lexi as she stands in front of him, likely talking his head off about her dance recital tonight. Good thing too; otherwise, he’d be concerned over Luca.
He made peace with himself, like the rest of us. Watching him now, able to interact with my girl after taking a bullet in the stomach. How he’s enjoying his role as a grandfather, including to Lexi, he’s the happiest he’s ever been. Especially after last night when he placed Sienna’s hand in mine.
We were married at Logan and Ellie’s. Luca by my side, Lexi by Sienna’s, all four of us smiling. One of the best days of my life.
I glance back at my wife, my eyes telling her Luca has this under control.
At least I hope he does.
Hope. Confidence. Anticipation. Patience and unconditional love have played a considerable role in adjusting our family to not only Luca’s recovery but also Lexi’s understanding of having a brother.
In the first couple of days, Luca wouldn’t speak to anyone except Sienna. It took him four days after we found out Lorenzo was going to survive before Luca would even talk to me.
I’ll never forget the first conversation we had. The minute Sienna stepped out of the room to talk to the nurse, my son looked me in the eye and asked me the question that proved what I already knew about Luca.
How much he loved his mom. How much he was a Mitchell clear to the ivory of his bones.
“Do you love my mom? I mean, really love her? You’ll never hurt her, right?” he asked, his lips quivering.
“Yes, I love her, and no, I will never hurt her.” I saw his belief through the tears he couldn’t control. They fell hard and fast.
“Is Joseph dead?” He wiped the tears away from those mournful eyes. They kept right on falling.
My hands were itching to hold him. To mend, to bond, to take away, to carry his pain.
On top of never wanting to hear that man’s name again, I hated he was mourning Joseph’s death.
I understood it better than he knew—different circumstances than when my mother died. Still, she was my mother. I didn’t want to think she didn’t give a shit about me. It stung. To this day, it does.
“Yes.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, because fuck, I wanted to drop to them, open my arms wide, and gather my son up.
The ball was in Luca’s court. I’d wait on my side as long as it took for us to get to know each other. This kid, this remarkable, brave boy, was so confused. It was going to take a while.
The waiting was going to rip my heart out again too. The result of him healing will be worth the wait.
“And you’re my dad? Is my name going to be Luca Mitchell? I have a sister?” He stood from beside Lorenzo’s bed and started slowly walking toward me. Wavering. Hesitating. Pretty sure my heart overflowed with every cautious step he took.
“Yes, son, I’m your dad, you do have a sister. Her name is Lexi. I’ll never hurt you either. I promise.” That’s one I won’t break. “You can call yourself whatever you want, Luca. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not that kind of man. I’m one that loves you. I’m one that will support your decisions, within reason. I mean, come on, buddy, you are only nine. Although, I will love you no less if it’s one I don’t agree with.” The slightest grin tugged the corners of my mouth. I had to force it to not pull into a full-fledged smile when one lifted his too.
“I’m almost ten.”
“I know. A little secret about your sister. She’ll want to make your cake.” Shit, I couldn’t wait for these two to meet.
“Lexi, Luca, and Lane Mitchell. We all start with an L. If you and Mom get married, she’ll be the odd one. I want to be Luca Mitchell. Can I be called that?”
Fuck yes.
“Yes.” I chuckle. Knowing Sienna will get a laugh out of being the oddball in our family.
“Do you like football?” He was within my reach—just a few more steps.
“It’s my favorite sport.”
“Can you throw a spiral?”
“Well, I’m no Tom Brady, but yes, I can.” I lean down and pick up the football I brought from home. It’s beat all to hell. “This was my brother’s and mine when we were younger. Sometimes we play catch on the beach. It’s yours now.” He looks from me to the ball and back again at least a dozen times before he takes it, cradles it under his arm. And then he broke out in sobs as he climbed onto my lap, wrapped his arms around me and held on for dear life.
Mine.
This kid with a million scars I was going to do everything I could to heal is mine.
There was a lot more said that day and the days that followed.
Luca and Lexi took to each other quickly. Luca pretended to be okay in front of everyone, especially Sienna. I saw it though, that anger building—the need to get it out before it erupted.
I handled it with gentle hands, a loving heart, and the father-son bond I let Luca take the lead in us having. It started with him coming to me for help with his math homework. Then once we picked back up on Saturday being Lexi day, he asked if Sunday could be his. We now get together with my brothers, Gabe, and Lorenzo, if they are around, and watch football all day.
Lexi had a million questions. We tried to explain and answer them the best way we could. I couldn’t lie to her. Of course, we left out the girls, XYZ, and everything having to do with them as well as Sienna living with abuse. We told her Joseph kidnapped Luca out of hatred toward Sienna and left it at that.
As far as the girls go, Aiden tells us they are adjusting as best they can. That’s all they can do.
Turning back around, I hold my breath while I wait for my son to get his anger under control before the play clock runs out, forcing me to call a time out.
I’m not calling a time-out. I’m putting confidence in my son’s hands.
Unease stirs through me as the team approaches for a quick huddle, Luca calling out a play.
I watch my son take the snap, running the same play as the previous one. As the coach, I should have my eye on the entire offense, but I don’t. It’s glued to my son, who is placing his confidence in Eli.
That’s my boy.
Luca places his index finger on the seam, thumb underneath the back of the ball, remaining fingers across the laces, and he brings his arm back for the perfect spiral throw to which Eli catches and scores.
Today, we lost by two touchdowns.
And that’s okay.
I’m proud of how far my son has come with controlling his anger over the past fourteen months, despite the time he spent in hell on earth.
I know he still has a ways to go before he’s as okay as I want him to be, but I’ll be here at his side every step just like his mother and Lexi will.
THE END.
Please continue reading for an important message from the author.
Even though my story is fiction, the NCMEC says 203,000 children are kidnapped each year by family members.
If you suspect a child is in an uncomfortable situation, please call 911. You can remain anonymous. It could be a false alarm, but you could be saving a child, a parent, a sibling from living a nightmare.
As a young girl, a family member tried to kidnap me. A true story I will leave at saying it didn’t get that far. I was scared, though. Afraid I would never see my mother or my siblings again. And I had nightmares for weeks.
The below information h
as been copied from The Nation Center for Missing & Exploited Children.
In 1984, John and Revé Walsh and other child advocates founded the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children as a private, non-profit organization to serve as the national clearinghouse and resource center for information about missing and exploited children.
Unfortunately, since many children are never reported missing, there is no reliable way to determine the total number of children who are actually missing in the U.S.
When a child is reported missing to law enforcement, federal law requires that child be entered into the FBI’s National Crime Information Center, also known as NCIC.
According to the FBI, in 2019 there were 421,394 NCIC entries for missing children. In 2018, the total number of missing children entries into NCIC was 424,066.
This number represents reports of missing children. That means if a child runs away multiple times in a year, each instance would be entered into NCIC separately and counted in the yearly total. Likewise, if an entry is withdrawn and amended or updated, that would also be reflected in the total.
During the last 35 years, NCMEC’s national toll-free hotline, 1-800-THE-LOST® (1-800-843-5678), has received more than 4.9 million calls. NCMEC has circulated billions of photos of missing children, assisted law enforcement in the recovery of more than 311,000 missing children and facilitated training for more than 365,000 law enforcement, criminal/juvenile justice and healthcare professionals. NCMEC’s Team HOPE volunteers have provided resources and emotional support to more than 71,000 families of missing and exploited children.
National Center for Missing & Exploited Children
Charles B. Wang International Children's Building
699 Prince Street
Alexandria, VA 22314-3175
800-843-5678
About the Author
USA Today Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans is a Michigan native where she lives with her husband, Tony. They have two son's Aaron and Shane.
She is a sports nut. Her favorite sports include NASCAR, Baseball, and Football.
She has recently retired from her day job to become a full-time writer.
She has always been an avid reader and at the young age of 50 decided she wanted to write. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task. Her favorite quote is "I got this."
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