Page 30 of Free to Fall

Later, in my room, I reflect on the fact of how easily it could have been ripped away with a single bullet.

Even before Paulie Tiberi shot up the ER, I knew I was blessed by family, love, and laughter. Now, each and every moment reminds me I was nursed on it is treasured. I cut my teeth on exchanging quips with my cousins, gaining confidence at family dinners, being surrounded by confidence.

The only difference between then and now is I don’t take a single moment of it for granted.

“Family first,” I repeat the family mantra as I wander over to the credenza of photos under my window. The pictures of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and all the others create a warmth inside me. They’ll all be there tonight to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. Every single one—I’m certain of it. Regardless if they’re actually related or adopted into our enormous clan, the people tonight are there for one reason. It’s not because they’re Olympic athletes or reporters. It’s not because they’re country music or rock stars. It’s not because they’re famous television personalities, bakers, lawyers, or teachers. Nobody cares if the person is a florist or firefighter, doctor or billionaire, we gather because we love.

And love of family supersedes all.

My lips curve when I pick up an outtake of a photo my Aunt Holly was trying to capture of my brothers and me when Jon and I were six and Chuck was three. Jon was holding me—at least that’s how it first appears. I was actually screaming bloody murder trying to snatch the balloon Chuck was trying to release from his hands. Putting it back in its place of pride, my voice drips with irony when I get a glimpse of the blood on the hem of my dress. “And people were appalled when the press dubbed me ‘Gore’?”

My eyes travel up and down the memories. Each one offering me a window into the past, all from the splendor of my sea-inspired bedroom. Glancing around the room, I take in an amber-toned headboard that picks up the striations of the wood tones of the floors, while the bedding is a combination of rich blues. The soothing coastal vibe rejuvenates my soul every time I’m sheltered in this space—taking me as far away from reality as I can get without actually leaving it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a picture of my twin and me on our twelfth birthday. Lifting it, I snicker aloud. “Considering the number of scrapes Jon and I got into at school, it’s no wonder Mama said we added more gray to her hair.” In the photo, Jon’s shirt is ripped, as is the hem of my plaid skirt. Both our knees are skinned but sitting between us is our youngest cousin, Lily. I trace the unmistakable pride on our faces despite torn uniforms and first stains. “It was so easy to stand up to bullies back then,” I murmur.

Then why is it so hard to stand up to the demons who are dead?

Placing the photo down with a snap, I get lost in memories of pools of blood, heartbreaking screams, pained moans, and sirens. No longer am I that fearless girl who refused to fall to the bully—the girl who firmly planted herself in front of others. Now, I’m one of the fallen.

A shadow passes over the sun—too long for a cloud.

At least, I think it is.

Is it my mind reminding me again of my weakness? Maybe. Still, before I never recognized shadows. Now, I search for them everywhere.

Refusing to succumb to the fear today of all days, I search for my cell phone so I can reach for my lifeline. Under the guise of confirming dinner is still on for tonight, I press in a number I’ve had memorized since I was two.

After my mother exclaims, “Laura!” like no matter what happens, I’m going to be the best part of her day, I relax marginally.

Everything is going to be all right. I can crawl out of this backslide.

After all, every once in a while, we all need a day we can take a step forward and not retreat no matter how much we want to.

Chapter

Thirteen

I call her that evening. I know it’s Memorial Day, but still I want—no need—things settled not just for my sake but so I can begin to transition Bailey’s reality.

It rings once, twice, before a laughing voice greets me. Immediately, I glance down at my dick. Yep. I’m rock hard at the sound of her voice. Christ, I’m going to need to get a handle on that. I can’t be lusting after my daughter’s nanny.

That is, if she accepts my offer. I hear a boisterous noise on her end of the line. I pull the phone away before I confirm, “Laura?”

A pause before an amused, “Yes?”

I lean against the doorjamb of my office, spying on the kitchen where Bailey and Mrs. Destry are making homemade pizza. “Liam Payne.”

“I know. I had your phone number programmed.” There’s a raucous burst of laughter before she asks, “Can you give me a moment to step outside?”

“Of course.” I can’t help but wonder where she’s at.

I hear a shouted, “Laura, they’re cutting the cake soon!”

She calls back, “This shouldn’t take but a moment. Tell Mama and Dad I’ll be right there,” before she offers me an explanation when she’s in a quieter place. “It’s my parent’s anniversary party. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to talk at length.”

“I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Thank you.”

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