by J. J. McAvoy
“Helen?” I gasped, reaching out to touch her face, but she sneezed, rubbing her nose before rolling over and hugging her brother…on Darcy as he snuggled on the pillow. As if I were dreaming, I reached out, running my hands through her curly hair.
“She got here last night after you passed out, and they both wanted to stay with you. Drink,” he said, offering me the water and pills.
I stared at them before looking back to him, and I couldn’t help it. I jumped, ye, jumped out of bed, hugging him, feeling the water in his hand slip a little bit. “You did it! You brought her home—”
“No, I didn’t.” He peeled me off, handing me the glass and putting the medicine on the bedside table. “Wyatt is the reason she’s back.”
“Wyatt?” I asked.
He just nodded, and I followed as he moved out of our bedroom and into the den, heading to his desk chair and grabbing his suit jacket.
“You’re not going to—”
“Yes, Wyatt. He skipped class and flew down to D.C. yesterday, where he broke into Senator Rook’s office, you know the senator Melody handpicked for the Senate. I guess that was the only other senator he knew.”
“I don’t know…what does Senator Rook have to do with this? Helen’s biological father is Senator King—”
“Wyatt kidnapped Rook’s seventeen-year-old daughter,” he interrupted, his face emotionless, “and took her to Senator King’s home, where he proceeded to shoot them both up with over five grams of our uncut heroin, and while they were both overdosing, he stripped them down naked, so they could be found naked and high in bed together.”
I felt my mouth drop and closed it, only to drop it again. My mind was spinning as I tried to piece together the madness that spilled out of his mouth. I replied slowly, “You’re telling me that Wyatt framed Senator King with a minor, not just any minor, but another senator’s daughter, and heroin?”
He sighed, rubbing his forehead as even he could not believe it. “No. Wyatt tried to frame him. Instead, he murdered our daughter’s biological father.
“Senator King is dead?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Apparently, he had a deadly allergic reaction to the drugs. So now everyone wants to know how a highly respected member of the black community who spoke out against drug use ended up dying of drug use in his own house. Senator Rook’s daughter has no idea how she got there either. Helen is temporarily back in our custody. But now I have an appointment with Judge Wilkins, who will probably want to investigate how it is we got Helen back so quickly.”
“I’ll come with you—”
“It’s best if you don’t come in your current state,” he muttered as he walked past me, angry. Reaching out to him, I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop for a moment. He didn’t look back at me.
I didn’t even know where to begin.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to not be so fucking unless,” he snapped, yanking his arm away from me and marching to the door.
“Declan—”
Pausing, he turned back to me and got in my face to scream, “I love them, too! They’re my children, too…I was in pain, too! I wanted her back, too. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this circus for her. Her mother overdosed on our drugs. Our business killed her mother. And now we’re responsible for killing her father, too.”
“I’m her mother,” I reminded him softly, “and you’re her father.”
He inhaled, shaking his head, but at least this time he kissed my forehead and then hugged me. “Keep her away from the news. I’ll be back later.”
Nodding, he said nothing else to me before leaving. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my hangover or not, but it felt like the world had just shifted off its axis.
It didn’t matter. I had my daughter back…my family was together. There was a knock on the door.
“Hold on.” I softly opened the door. Wyatt stood there, his laptop tucked underneath his hand and a monster-sized bag filled with snacks over his shoulder like Santa Claus. He grinned like a harmless goofball.
“My mom’s pissed. Can I hide out in here for a bit?” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure she wasn’t there.
I couldn’t help but smile. “How pissed are we talking about?”
He cringed. “My dad couldn’t even get a word in, and I think she invented some new curse words. I escaped while she was on the phone.”
“WYATT, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” I heard Melody holler. I dashed into the room so quickly I felt a breeze.
“I don’t know why they are so mad! Everyone is home now,” he muttered once I closed the door.
“Wyatt, you were reckless—”
“Not you, too, Aunt Cora!” He truly looked upset. He grumbled, “I thought you would be on my side.”
“Relax.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “I’m on your side. How could I not be? You’re my hero.”
He grinned, dropping his bag on the ground and lifting his shirt to show me his rib, which was a deep purple and red. “Senator King put up a fight, but I got him good.”
It took me a second to adjust to the coldness, the ruthlessness of his words, which he was somehow able to say with the most innocent smile on his face. He reminded me of a little kid…an infant who laughed while smacking his parents because he didn’t know that what he was doing was wrong.
“Wyatt,” I whispered, looking him in his eyes. “I’m grateful, but you shouldn’t brag about this…this was bad and sad. It was—”
“Aunt Cora,” he whispered back, putting his hands on my shoulders like I’d done to him, mocking me. “It’s kinda hard to take you seriously when you say bad and sad in the same sentence. It sounds like you’re reading Dr. Seuss.”
“Wyatt—”
“I know,” he said, a smile no longer on his face. “I know it was a bad plan. I know it wasn’t a good thing to do, and I swear I didn’t mean for him to die. I know my parents had a plan, and Uncle Declan had a plan. I’m sure even Ethan had a plan. All of their plans were going to be better than mine. I know. But Aunt Cora…I don’t think we should plan for family, right? You think that, too, right? That’s what you said before kind of…how we’re Callahans. Helen is a Callahan. She belongs here. Any plan that makes her wait with some strangers…was worse than my plan. It might make everything go smoothly, and Mom wouldn’t be upset with me, and Uncle Declan wouldn’t have to go see the judge. But it would still be worse. I’m not going to say sorry. I’m not going to feel sad. Because we won. We can figure out everything else later, because a win is a win,” he said, determined, and yet I could see it…in his eyes he was begging for me to be on his side.
“You’re right,” I said with a smile, nodding. “A win is a win. Helen’s home, and that’s all that matters.”
“Right! Thank you!” He let out a big sigh of relief before getting himself comfortable on Declan’s armchair, digging into bag of snacks.
“Wyatt?”
Looking to the door of Declan’s and my bedroom, I watched Helen step out, her curls a mess atop her head.
“Finally, you’re awake!” Wyatt grinned so wide I wasn’t sure how his cheeks didn’t hurt. “I was worried I was going to eat your welcome home party snacks before you had any!”
He lifted all the junk food he could hold up for her to see.
“Twizzlers!” She grinned back, about to rush for them, but then saw me. “Good morning, Mommy, can I have those?!”
Two weeks. I’d been without her for two weeks, and yet the way she spoke it was as if she’d never left.
Fighting back tears, I nodded. “I’ll let it slide since you just came back.”
“Thank you!” She dashed over to me and hugged me tightly before making a b-line for the snacks.
“Me too!” Sedric came out of the room, ignoring me completely, but it was okay. Everything was okay because they were right there. Laughing and giggling and stuffing their faces. I had my daughter. My children were with me. That was all that mattered.
However, somewhere in the very back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think to myself - He’s only twelve, Cora. He kidnapped a woman, six years older than him, and he murdered a man, destroyed another family, and he did it without remorse, without hesitation, without even caring what his parents, his mother would say. How?
Watching him laugh and stick Twizzlers under his lip, acting like a walrus, I knew he wasn’t a psychopath…he cared. He cared a lot. God complex? No, he wasn’t narcissistic enough for that to be the case.
What is he? How is he like this so young?
HELEN – NOW
“I couldn’t describe it then. Now I can,” my mother whispered to me. “Wyatt is the most dangerous because, unlike the rest of us, who bend or break the rules of society, he doesn’t acknowledge them…it’s as if they never existed to begin with. You think he’s an angel…I agree. But I agree knowing that Lucifer was the most beautiful angel of them all, too.”
“I need to go,” I said, softly handing her back the phone before leaving my room. The moment I stepped out into the hall, I heard his voice.
“Helen!”
Wyatt walked down the hall, in the middle of my father and uncle. He had that normal goofy grin on his face; he seemed the same and yet…all I could see were tattered black wings behind him.
“Helen? What’s wrong?” my dad asked, stepping forward.
But I stepped back, shaking my head. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Without saying a word to them, I turned and left. I could hear them calling for me, but I ignored them. Instead, as I was going into the garage, all of a sudden, I felt a hand grab onto my wrist, pulling me back.
“Helen?!”
Wide-eyed, I turned back to him, only to see him staring at me just as wide-eyed and confused.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did you fight with your mom—”
“You killed my father,” I answered back.
“What?” He laughed like I was the one who was insane. “Uncle Declan—”
“Senator King,” I snapped, and he froze. Everything seemed to freeze. Except the world right outside the entrance to the garage, where the rain fell on the gravel like bullets from the sky. He opened his mouth and closed it and then opened it again, but no words came out. “Let go of me, Wyatt.”
He blinked a few times before glancing down at my wrist like he forgot he had grabbed it before letting go. The moment he did, I turned around and walked over to my dad’s Aston Martin. Wyatt didn’t speak. He didn’t move even as I reversed. Then just before I sped out, he called out and finally said, “You belonged here.”
Glaring at him, gripping onto the steering wheel, I fought the urge to run him over. Instead, all I said was, “That wasn’t your choice to make, it was mine.”
As I drove out, only when the rain began to beat down on me did I realize I’d taken the top down…but I didn’t want to stop. I just kept driving toward the gate to get as far away as possible from the manor.
FIVE
“The best kind of Humans are the ones who stay.”
~ R. M. Drake
WYATT
“That wasn’t your choice to make, it was mine!”
“You’ve always been selfish… You’ve never once thought about those of us around you.”
Their words echoed in my mind without mercy, and not just them. Dona, my uncles, my aunts, my own father…apparently my selfishness was a well-known bane of this family. They all hated…me…even Helen.
“Wyatt?”
Glancing up from the glass in my hand, the ice long since melted, I looked over to the door as she walked in, a very familiar smile on her lips as she opened her arms out to me. I sat up off the edge of the table, put my glass down, and hugged her gently.
“Welcome home, Nana,” I whispered down to her.
“What do you mean welcome home? You’re the new one to this place.” She laughed and hugged me tighter than the force of God, and I let her for a moment before letting go.
She glared at me. “Why do you look depressed?”
“I’m not depressed, Nana.”
“I know you’re not depressed, Wyatt, that’s why I’m asking why you look depressed,” she said, breaking away from me, taking my glass, and finishing the liquor. Her face twisted together as if she ate a bag of sour candy. Plus, the wrinkles over her ivory skin made her look older than normal. I wish I’d taken a camera. “Never mind, I have my answer. What the hell is this?”
I snickered, trying to remember what I’d poured into the glass. After I left the garage, everything was kind of blank. “In all honesty, I can’t even remember, Nana.”
“Good. Never make it again, or I’ll disown you.” She cringed, putting the glass on the table.
“Nana, when did you become a such a drama queen?”
“I’ve always been one, but your sister kept overshowing me!” she shot back, her mind sharper than ever. She sighed deeply and frowned. “I miss her. I got here and automatically wanted to go to her room before remembering she wasn’t here.”
I felt my shoulders sink down slightly, but didn’t want to see her frown. “I’m sure the royal palace of Monaco can handle one more drama queen.”
At that she paused, looking me dead in the eye and said, “I’ll go visit her when you visit her. My place has always been with you boys. You and Ethan. Sons of my son. I’m very happy you are home, Wyatt…this place needs you.”
I tried to smile, but my thoughts hurt too much. “Are you sure? Because at the moment, I got people abandoning ship.”
“Is that why you look depressed? Your abandonment issues?”
“I do not have—”
“Your parents died when you were young, you have abandonment issues,” she cut me off.
I made a face and changed the subject. “Apparently all of the problems in this family are due to my selfishness.”
She snorted like a hog, and my eyes went wide as I tried not to laugh.
“Nana!”
“Bullshit!” she replied. “Everyone in this damn house is selfish.”
“Exactly!” I nodded to her.
“You’re more selfish,” she added, putting me in my place, and I couldn’t help but pout like a kid. We were all kids to her anyway. She linked arms with me and said, “But your selfishness is nowhere near big enough to be the root cause of this family’s issues. Ethan and Helen needed an emotional punching bag, and because you have a bad habit of choosing the worst times to speak to people—”
“Hey—”
“They took their anger out on you,” she finished.
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
“Take it.” She shrugged. “You’ve done it to them dozens if not hundreds of times, and they forgave you and moved on because that is what family is for. Let them sort themselves out, and you keep focused on what you’re supposed to do.”
“You don’t think I need to be less selfish?”
“Taking their abuse is already being less selfish, so you are. Besides, knowing what you want and doing it…is not always a bad thing. Many times, especially in this family of master planners and strategists, it’s a good thing. It makes you human. It makes other people in this family stand up for what they really want, too. I’d be sad if you changed who you were, Wyatt. You’re just as your mother made you…perfect in your own way.”
I paused for a moment before glancing at my watch. It was after five. I’d called my uncles for a meeting, which was why I was in Ethan’s study anyway. “You came to give me a pep talk before I talk to Uncle Neal and Uncle Declan?”
She grinned. “What else can a grandmother do but give pep talks? Hell, I live for these moments. You all never remember me until you’re hurt.”
“Nana—”
“No. No. It’s fine. I get it. Everyone is grown now,” she said, obviously to further add to my guilt as she walked back to the door.
“Nana…let’s have our own welcome-back-to-Chicago dinner soon, I want to know all about wh
at it takes to live to a ripe old age in this family.” I grinned, knowing she’d want to smack me.
“Call me old again you little shit, and you’ll never make it to thirty,” she replied, and I laughed as she went.
“Love you!” I yelled back toward her.
SLAM!
She’d slammed the door so hard it didn’t even close fully, slightly swinging back open, allowing my uncles to walk into the study. Neal grinned. “You called her old, didn’t you?”
“All I said is I wanted her to teach me how to live as long as she has in this family,” I said.
“Must you fight with everyone?” Declan asked, walking over to the bar.
“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s part of my charm.”
He laughed, walking over to me with a new drink. “You know I never thanked you for what you did.”
I took the glass, not sure what he was talking about. It must have been clear on my face because he added, “Helen. Back then…I was stuck. I wasn’t sure what to do. Your parents wanted things to be done quietly, your aunt was on the verge of a breakdown, and I missed my daughter. You took all the blame, and we got what we wanted. I got what I wanted. Don’t worry about Helen, I’ll talk to her later.”
I nodded, not wanting to rehash this. Luckily, my uncle Neal didn’t want to be out of the loop, either. He pointed to the 1937 Map of the United States Showing Routes of Principal Explorers and Early Roads on the side of the wall between the bookshelves.
“Sayalero is now in control of Miami. Rocha has Houston. Villalobos has from New Mexico to southern California,” Uncle Neal said, reading the lines on the map. Every year Ethan sent us information for the new code. Cartels and other mafia families that were trying to rise up against us, to steal our network for trade. The code matched the lines of the old map in our family study.
“They’re trying to cut us off in the south,” Uncle Declan added, staring at the map. “To do that and not fight each other…”
“Means they’re working together,” I finally spoke. “They’ve been ambushing our routes from South America, something they found out through Tobias, and the Italians backing Savino have been helping them. Dona had the ones she found out taken care of. But it still doesn’t change the fact that…”
