“C’mon, guys. No one’s gotten hurt. Let’s keep it that way,” my partner tried to reason with them. Mine was close to caving: his arm was still raised, but his gun was angled at the hostages’ feet.
“A-A-Al…” the guy I had my gun trained on stuttered. “I don’t…” He didn’t finish as he slowly lowered his gun to the ground. The second the metal made contact, all hell broke loose.
“Coward!” Al yelled, turning and firing at his friend. He only got two shots off before Brody shot him once in the chest. The two of us moved forward quickly yet carefully, just as I heard backup arrive. I secured the gun before searching for where he was hit. The one who’d lowered his weapon looked up at me, pale as a ghost, shaking his head.
“He m-missed.” That wasn’t too surprising.
“Sarah! Sarah!” I looked over and saw… shit! He missed his “friend,” but managed to hit the woman. The man was leaning over her and shouting her name over and over.
“Cuff him and call a bus,” I instructed one of the backup officers who had just arrived before moving over to the couple. My feet froze when I truly saw them for the first time. I’d been too focused on the gunmen before.
I’d only seen the couple one other time, but I’d never forget them.
How did you forget the people who made the woman you love cry? Who’d made her feel like a failure? Or unimportant?
You didn’t. But I had to put that aside and do my job.
I moved forward, assessing her. She was on her back, going in and out of consciousness. There was blood on her pristine white shirt. I quickly found the source, a slug on the right side of her chest, below her shoulder, and began applying pressure.
“Was she hit anywhere else?” I asked while still looking for another possible injury.
“No, no. The other one went into the wall.” He pointed up and my gaze followed, confirming what he said.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” I increased the pressure as her eyelids fluttered closed.
“SARAH!” the man screamed again.
I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the bullet had missed anything vital. I didn’t say anything though; I continued pressing my hand to her chest while I listened to the chaos around me.
My eyes zeroed in on her. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it was barely disheveled despite the circumstances. She—Sarah—was wearing pearls, a tight skirt that stopped halfway down her calves, and I imagined her white blouse had been perfectly ironed before all this. She was the type of woman who always looked put together. I’d gathered that much at the grocery store all those months ago. But one circumstance was all it took to undo it. Why hadn’t she seen it was the same way for Ellie?
And instead of trying to stop the unraveling of Ellie’s life, she made it fray more, tugging on the ends until the fabric of who her daughter was was practically unrecognizable.
“I glanced away for a second,” I heard Brody say. I imagined my partner was explaining how “Al” had managed to fire off two shots before he reacted. The rest of the conversation was lost on me as the paramedics arrived. I stepped back and gave them room, but my gaze stayed on her.
A few seconds later Sarah regained consciousness, her stare meeting mine. I looked down into a pair of hazel eyes, so similar to the ones I stared at every single day. These were harder—even now, in this vulnerable position, there wasn’t any warmth to them. But there was recognition.
The rest happened in a blur. There was paperwork to fill out and statements to make, and by the time it was all done, I was beyond exhausted.
The only thing I wanted was to go back to my house, where Ellie and Andy were. She’d wanted to stay over and make me breakfast since I was working a night shift.
It was four in the morning right now, so she was asleep and wouldn’t notice if I was late.
I’d debated on what to do for only a couple seconds before deciding I needed to talk to Damien. The car was in park—I was so shaken I didn’t even check to see if it was parallel with the sidewalk—in front of his house when I dialed his number. My thigh bounced, hitting my keychain every few seconds.
The call was edging toward his voice mail when he finally picked up. His voice sounded groggy as he muttered, “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
I heard the ruffling of sheets and a soft, “I’ll be right back” before he came back on. “Grayson?”
“Yeah.” I was staring out the window, looking at the world around me with new eyes. It felt strange that everything would be the same when on the inside, nothing felt similar.
Your whole world could change, and yet everything went on like nothing ever had.
“Where are you?” He sounded more alert now, his voice moving toward panic. “Are Ellie and Andy okay? Is—”
“They’re fine. I’m outside.”
Damien was quiet as I saw the front porch light turn on out of the corner of my eye. I looked over in time to see the curtain covering the front window fall into place a second before the door opened.
I didn’t know who hung up first, but when he came out he didn’t have a phone and mine was already discarded in the passenger seat.
Slamming the door, I looked over at Damien. His long blond hair was disheveled around his face, and his sweatpants and T-shirt were rumpled. He looked exactly like you’d expect, until you looked at his face. Jaw tightened and eyes hard, he seemed to be bracing himself.
“Grayson, I’m trying to stay calm, but you’re freaking me the fuck out.”
“It’s your mother.”
He crossed his tattooed arms over his chest, the only indicator of his worry the slight flare to his eyes. “What about her?”
“My partner and I responded to a call earlier. It was an armed burglary at a drugstore uptown. Your parents were there. One of the gunmen ended up shooting and caught your mother in the shoulder.” I pointed out the area, a little lower than the shoulder; it had been closer to her chest, but saying that made it sound worse than it was. “The paramedics told us that barring complications, she should be okay.”
I waited for a reaction, but Damien was like a statue. Truthfully I wasn’t sure what he should be feeling. What was the appropriate response to something like this?
Their parents had been out of their lives for years, and the two times they’d spoken to them in the last year had ended with Ellie’s tears. But they were still their parents. At what point did blood stop being important?
With every disregarded feeling, every cruel word tossed out, and every piece of her heart that broke off, they pushed Ellie—and by extension Damien—further away.
I saw it time and time again on the job. People returning to their family members because they insisted they “loved” them, only to be hurt again. At some point they had to release that connection. Because being beaten and battered along the journey would prove to be more painful than simply letting go.
“Ellie will want to see her.” Damien’s voice jarred me from my thoughts.
“She will,” I agreed, nodding my head. It didn’t escape my attention that he was completely ignoring his own feelings on the matter.
“We can’t let her.”
I wavered. I didn’t want her near them anymore than he did. I could still feel her shaking in my arms, her sobs piercing my ears and heart as she cried that day in the grocery store parking lot. My mind still heard the insecurities spill from her as we talked back at my place.
But could we really make this decision for her?
Before I could deliberate any more, he spoke again. “You haven’t been there, Grayson.”
My fists bunched as I took a step forward. “I held her while she fell apart that day in the store. I—”
“One time,” he all but shouted. “You’ve witnessed it one time. How can you ask me to send her back to them, knowing what I know? How am I supposed to tell her this, knowing she’ll go back to the mother who belittled and degraded her? And that was when she bothered to pay attention
at all.”
I cringed as each word fell from his mouth, and he wasn’t even close to done.
“Once, I was about sixteen, I came out of my room and found her sitting on the stairs, quiet and focused on the conversation in the other room. I’d just opened my mouth to ask her what she was doing when I heard it. My mother was entertaining friends in the next room, and they were talking about a dance that was coming up. Someone asked when she was taking Ellie shopping for a dress.” He shook his head and laughed, but the sound was dark and cold. “I remember watching Ellie sit straighter, excited by the prospect of spending time with our mom. Later she told me she thought our mom was going to surprise her about the dance. I couldn’t even see her face that day on the stairs, but I could tell she was glowing.”
Damien’s eyes filled with tears while I stood there, unblinking, as if I couldn’t miss a minute. He ran a hand over his mouth before letting out a deep breath.
“Our mother chuckled, and I could imagine her shaking her head and rolling her eyes, as she told them Ellie wasn’t going. I had to stand there and watch Ellie’s shoulders slump and her head drop. I had to stand there and listen to my mother tell a room full of women who had daughters in school with Ellie that Ellie was a waste of a daughter. Who would take her to the dance? What dress would even look good on her stick-skinny arms and chicken legs? It felt like she went on forever, and I had to stand there and watch my baby sister wither with each word. Her shoulders got lower and lower, as if everything our mother said was a physical weight, pushing her down, until finally she got up. Our mother had made one final ‘joke’ that had everyone breaking into laughter before Ellie stood and quickly spun around, ready to flee up the stairs. She froze when she saw me there; silent tears were running down her cheeks, and her eyes held a world of shame. I’ll never forget the embarrassment on her face. Like she was worried I’d heard everything and somehow agreed.
“I’d been on my way out, but instead I brought her to my room and held her as she cried. Hours. She cried for hours, Grayson.” Damien took a deep breath and hung his head. “A few weeks later she had her first taste of alcohol,” he whispered.
When he looked up, his eyes were begging me. “She’s in a good place—hell, a great place, now. I’ve never seen her so happy, and a big part of that is Andy and you.”
His words filled my chest with an emotion I didn’t recognize.
“Do you want to jeopardize all that?”
No.
“I don’t want to lie to her, Damien.”
“Some lies are necessary.”
I wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes told me it would be pointless. But my loyalty to Ellie far outweighed my loyalty to her brother. “We should go see your mom. Gauge the situation for ourselves.”
He begrudgingly agreed, and we made a plan to meet at the hospital at ten o’clock.
By the time I got home it was a quarter to five. I was meeting Damien in five hours, and while I knew I needed all the sleep I could get, I also knew I wouldn’t be getting much.
I changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt before sliding in behind Ellie, pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her hair. A few seconds later Ellie sighed, melting into me even more. I squeezed her closer; something about this whole night had me feeling that I needed to hold on extra tight.
I WAS BOUNCING ANDY on my hip, his giggles in my ear, as I cooked scrambled eggs. I was leaning in a way so my son was in no danger of getting burned, but I tried to move as fast as I could.
Every time I’d put Andy in his high chair, he’d started crying. And it wasn’t the fact that his screams were ear-piercing that made me instantly go to his side. I hated when my son was sad. I knew I’d have to watch myself because I didn’t want him spoiled, but I needed him to know he was loved.
Grayson was still sleeping after his night shift. When I’d woken up this morning, I’d kissed him softly on the cheek before crawling out of bed and checking on Andy.
I’d just turned down the stove when I heard the bedroom door open and decisive feet pad across the floor. My eyes moved to the clock. It read 8:27. A few seconds later, he rounded the corner.
“Hey handsome, are you—?” I froze. He looked horrible. I’d been around after a few of his night shifts, so I knew he always had bags under his eyes and looked down, but this was on another level. His hair looked like it’d been recently tugged at.
“Are you okay?” I asked, turning off the stove and moving toward him. I set Andy in his high chair, and he began wailing immediately. Cringing, I picked him up and started bouncing again. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” I gave him a quick kiss on the head.
“Grayson?” I asked slowly. “What’s wrong?”
He let out a breath and hung his head, running his hand along the back of his neck. “There was a shooting last night.”
“What?” I shrieked. “Where? Are you—?”
“I’m fine, I promise.” He put his hand on one of my shoulders and squeezed.
“But you—”
“Ellie,” he cut me off. His smile was both genuine and strained. “Breathe.”
I took a deep breath and placed my hand on top of his. “What happened?” I whispered.
He proceeded to tell me about the robbery, and even though he did his best to minimize the danger, even just the mention of flying bullets had me sweating.
“But I’m okay,” he repeated.
I nodded, trying to get my breathing under control. “What’s wrong then?” I asked, my gaze raking over him. “You look…shaken.”
Grayson blew out a breath that made me want to jump to conclusions again, but I tried to refrain. His brows dipped as he pondered what to say.
“Nothing,” he finally said.
I squinted; something about this still felt off.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again, more slowly—my suspicion seeping in.
He smiled, and it was a little more genuine this time. “Positive.” I opened my mouth to say more when he continued. “What’s for breakfast?”
I dropped the subject, moving through the morning and the rest of the day like I wasn’t uneasy, like there wasn’t an unspoken tension between us. But the nagging feeling that something else was going on lingered in the back of my mind, refusing to give me peace.
It didn’t help that Grayson was still acting weird the next day, up until lunchtime when he sat down on the couch. I told myself the reason he put so much distance between us was because I had my knitting supplies out and he didn’t want to disturb them. Then he leveled me with a look that had my palms sweating.
“Where’s Andy?”
“In his room.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Sure.” Swallowing back my nerves, I carefully set down the hat I was making and turned toward him.
“I didn’t tell you everything about the shooting two nights ago.”
“Okay…”
Grayson took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “Your mother was there,” he said to the ground.
“My… is she okay?”
“Yes.” He lifted his head. “She was shot in the shoulder, though, so she’s in the hospital.”
My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to feel. Truthfully, I didn’t know. After that day in the grocery store, I’d accepted the fact that they were never going to want me. But she could have died; that changed the rules, didn’t it?
Grayson looked nervous. But I wasn’t angry—I could understand him not wanting to tell Damien and me. I imagined delivering that kind of news was always hard. Not to mention how it would feel to have to tell people you care about.
“Okay. We need to call Damien and…” I trailed off when Grayson paled.
My stomach dropped when I realized what that meant. I laughed, but it lacked humor. “You already told him.”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “I talked to him that night; well, it was more like morning at that point. I wanted to tell you, but—�
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“But what?” I asked, standing and pacing to the other side of the room. He lifted himself off the couch too.
“Damien thought it’d be a good idea to go see them ourselves before we said anything. To see if anything had changed. It’s a nice sentiment, to believe she’d be so traumatized by being shot that it changed her life. She’d see things clearly and realize how much she loves you. But that’s not how life works, Ellie. We wanted to make sure.”
“And?” My arms were shaking as I crossed them over my chest.
“We saw her yesterday morning. She’s the same. She doesn’t—”
“Stop.” Lowering my head, I bit my lip.
“I know it hurts, that’s why we—” Grayson started.
“Hurts?” I bit out, stepping back when he came closer. “I’m pissed.” I tried to stay calm when I spoke again. “You should have told me. You should have trusted that I was strong enough to handle it. Wasn’t that what you’ve been helping me do for months—get stronger?”
“Yes. Damien just—”
He looked frustrated as I continued to cut him off. “My brother doesn’t know everything.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m telling you now.”
“Why not tell me first? You went to him over me. You trusted him, but not me?”
“No, I—”
“I’m not done.” I finally raised my voice. “Months ago I let my mother’s words affect me, I let myself believe them, and I gave them life by doing so. I’m not doing that again. These past few months, I’ve grown to love myself in a way I hadn’t thought possible before. Am I one hundred percent over everything? No, of course not. But I was getting better, at least I thought I was, and you helped give me that. But you clearly don’t trust me…”
Grayson lifted his hands, slowly walking toward me. “No, that’s not—”
“Your actions contradict your words, and thinking you know what’s best for me, even if it comes from a place of love, is just like my parents telling me I’m incapable of taking care of myself or making smart decisions.” He froze as my words hit him. “You, and my brother, clearly don’t believe in my ability to change at all, just like them. But at least with my parents I knew what to expect.”
Unveiling Fate Page 25
