by J. J. McAvoy
“We own half the hospital!”
“Doesn’t mean we don’t still pay,” he replied, taking another spoonful into his mouth before flipping the page of his book.
He couldn’t be serious right now.
“You can take him home now, Mr. Callahan,” she spoke directly to him.
“You’re not just saying that because he’s annoying, are you?”
She dared to giggle. “Of course not. I take the health of my doctors very seriously. He’s cleared all the tests, but he’ll need a wheelchair while undergoing therapy.”
“Can you sedate him? He’ll complain—”
“You really want to fight with me today?” I asked him, and he sighed while rising from the chair and tossing a wool coat to me.
I grabbed it and put it on, and he wheeled the chair over to me. Luckily, he knew better than to help me and just held it as I dragged myself over. He bent down, putting my shoes in front of me…and I could feel myself getting annoyed as he put them on my feet.
“Where’s Helen?”
“Why? You’d prefer if she did this for you?” he questioned, looking back at me.
“Yes, actually I would—”
“I thought you loved her. She’s working so hard to get all the motion back in her fingers, and you want her tying your shoes?”
I closed my eyes…because I’d lost this battle, and I was an idiot. I’d forgotten for a second, too busy being annoyed with my own progress. I felt weak…and after everything that had happened, all I wanted was control over myself. The medical part of my mind understood the very fact that I was functioning. That I had regained so much of my strength was a miracle. Most people never got any significant motor function back and spent the rest of their lives as a vegetable, communicating through their eyes. I should have been grateful for that, that I had so much of myself back already.
But I was starting to realize it just wasn’t in my nature.
I wanted what I wanted, and when I didn’t get it…no…I always got it.
“Thank you for not making this a big spectacle,” I muttered as he wheeled me into the hallway. The nurses, doctors, the very few people on our floor—they were all gone, nowhere in sight, and I knew he did that, for me.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said when we reached the elevator, and I was a tad bit nervous, expecting something when the doors opened. But instead it was empty. “Someone has trust issues.”
I rolled my eyes. “Years of having you as an older brother, can you blame me?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say that—
“Years of having you as a little brother, can you blame me?” he questioned back, and I couldn’t help it. I smirked.
“So we bring out the worst in each other?”
“Define the worst,” he replied, pushing me forward when the doors opened at the private garage. There, in front of the doors, the only car in the whole garage, a 1969 black and chrome Lincoln Continental Mark III.
“Who died?” I asked when he wheeled me around to the passenger side.
“Don’t make fun of my car,” he said seriously as I shifted myself into the front passenger seat.
“I’m not. It makes fun of itself.” I tried not to laugh, and he just ignored me, putting the wheelchair into the long ass trunk—which was one of the reasons it was such an iconic mafia car. “You might as well be telling the world I’m in the mafia.” I added when he got in.
“Put your seat belt on,” he said, strapping himself in and starting the engine.
“Yes, dad.” I rolled my eyes, clicking the buckle in place, but when I moved to speak again, he flipped me off. And again, I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or check his mental stability. “Who are you, and where has my brother gone?”
“Nana and Helen planned you a welcome home party,” he said, changing the subject. I noticed, and I was pissed because it worked.
“Another one? Jesus Christ,” I groaned, leaning back in the leather seat. “I swear they look for any reason to have a party.”
“It also serves another purpose—”
“Of course it does. All of our parties serve another purpose. We know that. The people who come know that. We’re just calling them to show we’re still here. That nothing could break us. However, seeing as my legs aren’t really at their best right now—”
“They don’t need to know that,” he replied, turning onto the off ramp even though it wasn’t our exit. “For all they know, you could be pretending, to cover up your other crimes.”
“What crimes?”
He pulled to a stop, clicking one of the buttons, causing the Lincoln’s top to lift up and go back. The cool air rushed in, flooding the air around us, and he pointed to the left of me. “Those crimes.”
My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help it. I broke out laughing. He was insane…he was fucking brilliant.
“So much for a new Chicago,” I finally managed to say, tilting my head to see them all because it was too far.
“Chicago will always be Chicago,” he said, looking at their cold grey bodies as they hung from their toes, upside down and naked, from the Chicago Skyway Toll Bridge, right under words “Welcome to Chicago”…which, whoever saw the bridge this morning would be greeted by the bodies of the mayor, the governor, the fire chief, and the good old police commissioner…carved into each of their stomachs was one word…forming the perfect sentence.
“Welcome to Chicago, the rats die first.” Grinning, I nodded. “Bravo. Has the president declared a state of emergency yet?”
“I told him to give it a day.”
I frowned after thinking about it. “I really wanted the commissioner and the governor for myself.”
“We have bigger issues. Remember,” he said seriously, then brought the top of the car back up. “So, before we deal with the south, do you want to confess whatever you haven’t told me for the last three weeks?”
I knew this moment was going to come.
But I wasn’t sure how to say it.
“Now or never, brother.”
“You weren’t the one who saved us, were you?” I said, looking from the rats to him, and he paused. “You didn’t come for us…there was no way you could have known.”
“So who did?” he asked, and all of him tensed.
“Did you—”
“Say it. So I’m not insane.” His eyes were hard, and I saw the old him—the cold, impenetrable Ethan—in those eyes. “Say it.”
“They’re alive,” I whispered it at first and then repeated it. “Mom. Dad. They are alive.”
“They came to you?” he questioned, still unmoving.
I nodded. “I can still hear them. I thought I was going insane. But there they were, and Nana wasn’t surprised.”
“Did Dad…did he say…” He cracked his jaw to the right as if he couldn’t believe what he was going say.
“Don’t leave your brother,” we both said at the same time.
My eyes widened as I stared at him. “When did they-”
“Boston.” He nodded, gripping the steering wheel. “I thought I was just dying. That my mind made them up to comfort me. But I felt a pinch in my arm, and before Ivy died, she asked me if I’d taken anything—”
“Your blood!” I nearly screamed, remembering. “I knew it. You should have bled out, but you didn’t. And that medic kit….it was too prepared.”
“Helen swore she saw me save you both,” Ethan whispered. “But I didn’t. I had no idea. I’d gotten an alert, and our men were already on the way. I went back to look at the security footage, and it was gone. Not just for that day, but that whole week. Just gone. Even away from Cain, and I have way of finding out if we were hacked without—”
“Speaking to Uncle Declan or Helen.”
“Exactly.”
We both sat there, silently trying to process the fact that the last decade…no, almost two decades were a lie.
“What are you going to do?” I finally managed to ask him.
He
sighed and then shifted the car out of park and moving back onto the street. “There is nothing we can do.”
“What the hell are you saying? Do you hear yourself? Ethan, our parents. Both of them. They are alive. They are out there and—”
“And they’re never going to let us find them!” he snapped, and I saw the rage, the pain, the shock and confusion in his eyes, which I must have shared. “They know we know. For me, if you never said anything, I would have thought it was impossible…no, in all honestly, I would have forgotten about it—between the city, the family, and the business, when would I have time to really think about it? If Helen hadn’t thanked me for saving you both, I would have never brought it up. But she did, and I knew…there was only one man I could be confused with. And that look you gave Nana, I knew then…you were trying not to think about it, just like I was. They made a mistake. They thought you were gone. They came to say goodbye, but they must know now that you were awake all along and that, if that’s the case, you heard them.”
“So we’re just going to pretend we don’t know?” The two most important people in our family’s lives, my fucking life, weren’t dead. They were somewhere in Chicago, and we’re just supposed to forget?
“We should act with the knowledge that they can hear everything. That they can see everything—”
“That they made themselves gods?” Of course, they fucking did! “Who do you think I inherited my selfishness from? Mom or Dad? I’m guessing Mom. She went first. No way in hell Dad would have agreed to that…oh, and he acted so fucking hurt…bullshit. All of it was bullshit.” I looked around the car and then leaned into the speaker. “Mom, Dad, if you’re listening, please know from the bottom of my heart, it is with the deepest sincerities that I say you’re not worth the crack of yer arse of boiled snow, and if I see ye I’ma bust yer craniums in, you both cic maith sa tóin atá de dhíth air! (need a good kick up the arse).”
“Are you done?” he questioned. How he managed to be so calm is beyond me, and fucking annoying.
“No, I’m not done. But go ahead, explain to me why I should be done.”
“I want to see them,” he confessed throwing me off for a moment. “But then what? They didn’t go through all this trouble to come out of hiding. They aren’t coming back to be in our lives. And if we chase them and find…what happens when we outlive them? Do we re-bury them? Do we grieve all over again?”
No matter how badly he tried, he always showed how different he was from me. “You’re not supposed to be logical at this point, Ethan. You’re their child, too. They hurt you, too. You should just be upset. You shouldn’t think about what’s next and just want to see them. Ask them why they did—”
“They did it so that they could do this,” he said softly. “I’ve gotten lucky so many times. Now I wonder, what was by my own strength and what did they do? Either way, without them watching out for us, we’d be dead. I’d be dead before you came to operate. You would have died in the lobby.”
“You are logical for me, too,” I grumbled, staring out the window. “And I’ll be pissed for us both then.”
He chucked, but it was cut off when his phone rang, connecting with the car’s Bluetooth.
Seeing the caller ID, we both shared a look before he answered.
“Nana—”
“The party is canceled. You need to get home right now.” Her tone was completely off.
“What is it—”
“Can’t talk over the phone. Just get back now.” And with that she hung up.
“Remember the days when you used to run this family…or at least you thought you did?” I said to him. “Now you’re chauffeuring your little brother, and our grandmother is bossing you around.”
“You’re in the front seat next to me, I’m not chauffeuring anyone,” he replied, unbothered. How could he still be so calm? The more I thought about it, the more it hurt. All those tears, all the begging, everything I’d devoted myself to…the very fact that I became a doctor was because they died….and now…now I knew my life was built on lies…if Dona ever found out—
“Dona…if she ever…”
“It’s only a matter time before she knows, too,” he said, and I could tell he was doing that thing where he got lost in his plans.
“You think they’ll go to her—”
“How convenient do you think Gabriel was?” he asked slowly, and I paused, trying to understand. He went on, “He came at just the right time…he knew exactly how to approach Dona…how to approach us. Nana was on our side from the beginning, and Mother would never have made a deal for Italy. I don’t care how well she knows Dona. She wouldn’t have done it. They planted Gabriel…so he knows, too.”
I couldn’t stop the curses that flew out of my mouth, but who was I cursing? Them? Gabriel. “Cazzo! Che due coglioni! Figlio di puttana!” (Shit. What the fuck. Son of a bitch!).
“Yes, we are,” he whispered, exhaling. “It’s only a matter of time before he tells her.”
“They’d kill him.” They couldn’t kill us. But they would kill him.
“Not if Dona fell in love with him,” he replied, and I was really starting to wonder whose side he was fucking on. “Helen was ready to die at the chance of losing you…what do you think Dona would do—”
“She isn’t that type of person—”
“She’s a Callahan,” he reminded me. “She is that type of person, whether she knows it or not. Did you of all people ever think you’d fall in love, so in love that it’s the sole reason you fight to live again?”
“Helen wasn’t the sole reason,” I muttered, closing my eyes as I rested back. She was a big part of it, but she wasn’t the only reason.
“Whatever the reason, let’s not drag Dona into this,” he said softly. “Let her live her fairytale for as long as possible. She deserves that much at the very least.”
“Careful, your heart is showing again, big brother,” I teased him, expecting him to come back with something. But he didn’t say anything. Lifting my eyelids, I saw he wasn’t listening anymore. He was back to his master planning…but for what? Our parents? The southern gangs? Dona? “Ethan.”
“Hmmm…,” he muttered, proving how deep he was in his thoughts.
Gritting my teeth, I lifted my leg to catch his attention. When he glanced over at me, I continued, “I’m going to walk soon, so whatever you’re fucking planning, you better have me included in it.”
He stared and smirked. “Careful, little brother, your heart is showing again.”
“I can’t let you have all the attention now that you’re back.”
“You did good while I was gone.”
I wanted to thank my dad, really, but now that we knew our parents were alive, it didn’t feel right. There was never a dull moment in this goddamn family.
“What the hell?” he muttered as the gates of the manor opened, and I looked to see what he was looking at as we drove forward.
There were two small black dogs chasing each other around the water fountain in front of the house. What was even odder was the fact that no one was removing them. In the corner, there was a custom red 1953 Maserati A6 Berlinetta, and only one person in the world had it…some old rich in southern Italy who refused to sell it. I knew because Ethan wanted that car years ago.
“Were you expecting a guest?” I asked him.
“That was Mom’s car,” he replied and pulled to a stop in front of the mansion.
I looked back to the mansion, eyes wide. “They wouldn’t.”
He didn’t wait. He opened the door before Monk could, and Greyson opened mine. His face covered in deep scars, the bruises only now starting to fade. He moved to get the wheelchair, but I shook my head, lifting my legs out myself. Despite the pain, there was no fucking way I was going to be wheeled around in front of them.
“Wyatt?!” I felt Helen’s hands around my shoulder.
Leaning on her, I kept walking into the foyer, following him toward the dining room, where he stood at the d
oors. Once I was closer, I saw a white-haired, sun-tanned man wearing very expensive Italian shoes and sitting across from our grandmother.
“Who the fuck is this?” I asked, annoyed…
“Ethan. Wyatt,” our grandmother said, nearly ready to break the glass in her hand in anger. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Meet Fiorello Orsini, aka the son of a bitch who drove me off the goddamn road, left me to die, caused me to lose my unborn daughter and nearly your father!”
“We were at war, us Italians and Irish. I served his grandfather and mother. I thought we let go of the past when the families merged, Evelyn. After all, what I took from you barely touched the surface of what Sedric took from me,” Fiorello said. Grandma got up so quickly the chair nearly fell over, tossing her drink into his face; she shook with rage.
“Till the day I die, I will never forgive you!” She moved to march past Ethan and me, but when he spoke again, she stopped.
“If that is the case, then I can’t trust her with you…shame. If Orlando was alive, hell, if his daughter was alive, they’d be happy with this news,” he said, taking the napkin and dabbing in his face.
“What news?” Ethan asked, only looking toward our grandmother, and she looked ready to smack the hell out of him as if he were the one keeping secrets for years.
“Your daughter!” she hollered.
“His what?” I gasped.
“Papà!”
We all turned as Uncle Declan walked down the stairs with a little girl, maybe four years old, no older than five. She had long curly brown hair and was dressed in red a peacoat; she let go of his hand and ran straight toward Ethan’s legs.
I’d never seen Ethan so terrified and baffled in my whole life. He stared down as if some foreign creature were attacking him.
“Ethan, meet your daughter, Giovanna Siena Orsini-Callahan,” Fiorello said. “Her mother and I just call her Gigi, though.”
I looked down to her and saw she had complete heterochromia; one of her eyes was a light brown and the other the same sharp green as Ethan’s. She looked like him, only with tanner olive-toned skin. She grinned, totally amazed and lovingly at him, and spoke quickly.
