Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“In Austin? What for?”
“Savannah’s mother had a heart attack. She’s in surgery right now having a triple bypass.”
I throw my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God. Are you two all right? We’ve got to tell Vinnie. He’s out of town.”
“Actually, Ray, Vinnie’s right here.”
I nearly drop my phone. “So he didn’t get on that plane.”
“I didn’t know he was supposed to be on a plane. But no, he’s here. Ray, you’ve got to—”
“Don’t start telling me to stay away from him right now. He needs me. I’m on my way. Which hospital?”
“Ray…”
“You can tell me, or I can have Jared drive me to every hospital in Austin, Falcon. Telling me will make it easier on both of us.”
He sighs. “Austin General.”
“See you soon.” I end the call, grab all my suitcases, and walk out the door.
Jared helps me load them up. “You ready to go home, Raven?”
“No, Jared. We’re going to Austin. Austin General Hospital. And step on it.”
24
VINNIE
Before Michael and Savannah came along, it was just me and Mom. Those were the days I remember best, the days when it felt like we were a team, just the two of us against the world. Dad was hardly ever home.
I woke up every morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of Mom humming in the kitchen. She had—still has—a soft voice, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. I would always find her standing by the stove instructing the cook about what to make for breakfast.
“Morning, sweetie,” she’d say.
I’d run up to her, hugging her around the waist, and she’d lift me into her arms and set me on her hip. I’d eat my pancakes—my favorite—and then I’d give her a sticky maple-syrup kiss on her cheek.
After breakfast, we’d head out for our daily adventures. Mom would take me to the park, where we’d spend hours playing. I’d climb the jungle gym while she watched, her eyes never leaving me. She’d cheer every time I made it to the top, clapping her hands and calling me her little champion. We’d sit on the bench afterward and share a chocolate chip cookie.
Our afternoons were filled with stories. We had this giant recliner, and I’d curl up next to her with my head on her lap. She’d read to me, her voice taking on different characters, bringing each story to life. Sometimes, she’d make up stories, weaving tales of dragons and knights, always making me the hero who saved the day.
On rainy days, we’d build forts out of blankets and pillows in the living room. Mom would crawl in with me, and we’d pretend it was our castle. We’d spend hours in there, playing games, drawing pictures, and just being together. She’d always make me feel like the king of our little world.
At night, Mom would tuck me into bed, kissing my forehead and whispering goodnight. She’d leave the door ajar, letting a sliver of light in from the hallway. I’d fall asleep to the sound of her softly humming. I felt safe and loved.
Those days with Mom were my favorite. Later, after Mikey and Savannah were born, I’d get a nanny, but before then, Mom and I had our own little bubble, a world where it was just us. Those memories of just me and Mom are the ones I hold closest to my heart. They’re the ones that remind me of how special our bond is, even as our family grew.
One time, when I was about thirteen years old, after Michael and Savannah had come along, Mom admitted to me that I was her favorite.
I was shocked, to be honest. She and Savannah seemed to have a special bond. They would do their mother-daughter things that Mikey and I weren’t part of. Not that we wanted to be a part of them.
But once Mikey came along, the bubble that Mom and I had seemed to burst. He was a particularly cranky baby, and he took up a lot of her time. I started spending more and more time with the nanny, and as I got older, my father.
Looking back, I realize that he was beginning to groom me for work with the family.
Savannah was a good baby. And such a cutie, with chubby cheeks and a perpetual smile on her face.
I always thought she was Mom’s favorite.
But one day when I was home from school sick, Mom told me I was.
I remember lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, my head pounding and my throat sore. Mom brought me a bowl of chicken soup, just the way I liked it, with extra noodles and a dash of pepper. She sat down next to me and brushed my hair back from my forehead.
“You know, you’ve always been special to me,” she said softly.
I looked up at her, confused. “What do you mean, Mom?”