Chapter Thirty-Four
Grant
For some reason, I felt more restless than usual. I’d been pacing my bedroom like a caged animal for the last fifteen minutes, trying not to think about the three weeks remaining in my forced rehab.
No, thanks, buddy.
After dinner and my evening shower, I’d finally cracked open the box Kieran gave me, and sure enough… it was porn. I rolled my eyes at the magazine on top with a scantily clad Black woman on the front with the title: Hot Ebony Stepsisters.
The sticky note from him said, “I know you’re into this kind of stuff.”
I immediately taped up the box and hid it in the back of my closet until I could dispose of it during move-out.
Regrettably, the magazine opened a can of worms that led me to daydream about the night Kiyah and I shared at the motel.
The passion was unreal and uncontainable, like a surging river bursting through a dam, and I wanted to relive the night over and over again like I had been for the past five weeks.
That night was the last good memory I had before rehab, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to experience that level of intimacy and attachment with Kiyah or anyone else, for that matter, was depressing.
Casey mentioned there were plenty of fish in the sea and suggested we go on a double date when I was released.
The last thing on my mind was dating, or whatever the hell Casey considered dating.
There was something seriously off with him—some deep-seated insecurities and detachment issues, if I had to guess.
He tried to convince me to move on because Kiyah had done the same.
He’d sent me screenshots of a photo of Kiyah, that creep, and his son at a campaign event, and if I weren’t repulsed by the sight of them together, I’d say they looked like a charming family unit.
I responded by telling Casey he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.
He scoffed and made up some excuse to get off the call.
I needed out. I missed my life, family, and freedom, but most of all, I knew I had to start making amends. I was welcome to invite my family to therapy, but I had to begin with Kiyah, and that wasn’t easy to do when I couldn’t get her on the phone.
She called this morning, but we’d barely gotten past the greeting when she was whisked away. She promised to call this evening, but it was 10:13, and I hadn’t heard a single peep from her.
“I should call her,” I mumbled, pulling up her contact information. I was about to make the call when my door crashed open. My father entered my room, started pulling open my dresser drawers, and tossed my clothes onto the bed.
“Dad? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
At first, he didn’t answer and proceeded to tear apart my room. He appeared haggard and unkempt, and when he turned to face me, the subtle wrinkles in his face were etched deeply into his skin. His usual clear, green eyes were stained blood red.
Something’s seriously wrong. Please, God. Don’t let it be Kiyah. Don’t let it be anyone I love, but especially not Kiyah.
He snatched off his glasses and wiped the lenses furiously with the bottom of his t-shirt—something he did when he was beyond anxious and frustrated.
“Your sisters,” he mumbled.
My heart seized in my chest before kick-starting back to life in a violent staccato.
“What happened to Kiyah and Daisy?”
“No, Kiyah is fine as far as I know. Daisy and Nori were involved in a hate crime this evening.”
“Hate crime?” I asked in disbelief.
“They were leaving dinner and were attacked in the parking lot by some masked thugs, who hurled homophobic slurs at them. Daisy, she….” Sobs interrupted him, and without thinking, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.
“Get it together, Dad! What happened to Daisy?”
He gulped in a lungful of air before breaking the news. “Your sister fought off her assailant and retrieved her gun to protect Nori. Daisy shot him, but her attacker was also armed and shot her. She’s in surgery, but they-they don’t know if she’s going to make—”
He collapsed in my arms before he could finish his sentence, and I was too stunned to do anything else but hold him.
This can’t be fucking happening.
* * *
The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a blur.
One minute, Dad was discharging me from the rehab facility, and the next, I was driving down I-35, passing exit after exit with a severe case of tunnel vision.
What felt like a ten-minute drive to me was forty, and for each agonizing minute, I wondered if my little sister would pull through.
Losing Daisy would be cataclysmic, and our family would never be the same again.
And poor Nori might never recover from losing her life partner.
I chastised myself for catastrophizing and told myself to think positively, but Dad didn’t give me much hope.
“Kiyah’s calling,” Dad mumbled as I parked in the hospital parking garage.
“Does she know?”
“No. I left her a message and told her to call me as soon as possible.”
“I’ll handle it,” I volunteered, reaching for the phone. He hesitated for a brief second before relinquishing it and leaving the vehicle. I answered on the final ring. “Hello?”
“Grant? What’s going on? Why do you have Dad’s phone?
” I took a selfish moment for myself to appreciate the sound of her voice.
I was an asshole. Our sister was lying on an operating table, fighting for her life, and all I could think about was how good it was to hear Kiyah’s voice.
“Is it Granddad?” she asked breathlessly, knowing she was likely one syllable away from having her world shattered.
“No, he’s still with us. It’s Daisy.”
“Daisy?” she muttered in disbelief.
“Daisy and Nori were the targets of a hate crime after leaving a restaurant. Nori escaped with some injuries; however, Daisy was shot and is in surgery. The last we heard, the surgeons were still operating.”
“Hate crime? H-how bad is it?”
“Bad enough that you need to get to the hospital immediately. Mom and Ms. Simone’s jet took off from Portugal half an hour ago.”
Kiyah’s sobs finally broke free. I pulled the phone away from my ear and set it in my lap. Despite the distance, I couldn’t avoid overhearing her wails of anguish or that motherfucker in the background asking what was going on.
She’s not going back to him.
“Grant?”
I held the phone to my ear again. “Are you coming or not?”
“I’m on the next flight out from Chicago. Keep me posted.”
She hung up, and the mild relief that washed over me gave me the strength to leave the calm of the car for the bright lights, antiseptic smell, and fears of the emergency room waiting room.
I made a beeline to Nori, who was tucked in the protective hold of Uncle Ant.
Ronan sat beside her, quietly holding her hand.
All three had salt-stained tracks on their faces, and those bright, steel-colored eyes were dim and red-rimmed.
Nori’s broken arm was held tightly to her body in a sling, and her nose had been reset.
The bruising beneath her eyes was extensive, and I was shocked that she escaped the attack with a mild concussion.
I stopped before Nori and tried to find the words to say to her. I knew nothing comforting would come from “I’m sorry.” My sorry wouldn’t turn back time and prevent those motherfuckers from harming them, and it wouldn’t erase the trauma of seeing her other half grasping for life before her.
I opened my mouth to speak when Uncle Ant cut me off.
“She can’t hear you. She lost her hearing aids in the attack. We haven’t been by the house yet to pick up her spares.”
I nodded and crouched to bring myself eye-level to her. I caught her attention and signed.
I’m here.
An unexpected laugh ripped out of me when she signed back saying she was deaf, not blind.
Uncle Ant sighed and kissed her temple. “Even in the most perilous of times, she’s a smart ass.”
“I wonder where she gets that from,” Ronan chimed in.
“Your mother, of course,” Uncle Ant accused, even though we all knew that wasn’t the case.
“Any updates on the assailants?”
He shook his head. “They’re still at large. There was blood found at the scene, and a crime scene investigator has been by to take swabs and scrape beneath Nori’s nails—they found blood and skin cells from when she scratched her attacker.”
“Any witnesses?”
“None,” my father said. He’d rounded the corner with Kieran.
They both balanced two drink carriers of coffee cups.
“The restaurant had deplorable parking lot lighting, and potential witnesses didn’t arrive until after the gunshots.
Personally, I’d sue the restaurant. While the establishment is not responsible for the crime, it does have a duty to deter crime and keep its guests safe.
They failed to do so by providing adequate lighting, but Nori is against the notion. ”
“It’s their favorite restaurant, Uncle Jon. It’s where they had their first date. I can’t believe I have to say it, but can you step out of lawyer mode for one fucking second and realize that money isn’t everything?”
We’d fallen silent. It wasn’t like Ronan to be so emotionally charged, but given the circumstances, I could understand.
However, he also needed to put himself in my Dad’s position—Nori had made it out—she was safe and secure in the arms of her loving father and protective brother, while Daisy’s fate still hung in the balance.
“Ronan, you’re out of line,” Uncle Ant said in a low, warning tone.
“No, he’s allowed to voice his opinion no matter how off-base he is.
The restaurant needs to be held accountable along with the perpetrators.
Nori will no doubt have physical therapy, doctor, and psychiatric appointments.
She may also have to step away from her career for a time.
And let’s not get started on the amount of care Daisy will require.
Should all of these expenses come out of their pocket?
The doors of the restaurant won’t shut. You’ve been in this family long enough to know how insurance works,” Dad said through gritted teeth.
The silence returned until Kieran cleared his throat and began handing out coffees.
“Here you go, Big Bro.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting a cup from him with my name on it.
“I made it just how you like it.”
I smirked. “You always made a better barista than a lawyer.”
“Fuck you. I hope you burn your taste buds off,” he joked.
“I notice Casey isn’t here.”
Kieran rolled his eyes. “Allegedly, he’s on his way.”
I grunted before nodding for him to follow me away from the tense atmosphere to speak privately.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
He snatched his glasses off and rubbed at his moist eyes. “Not so good, if I’m being honest,” he answered, replacing his glasses on his pointed nose. “You?”
“A fucking wreck.”
“Hm,” he hummed. “Um… I don’t know what the plans are for your rehab, but I don’t mind being your accountability partner. I’ve been doing research and attending AA meetings.”
My heart startled in my chest as my younger brother rattled on about all the research he conducted on alcoholism and how he was willing to also stay sober for my sake so that he could practice what he preached.
“Sometimes, I think you’re too good for this world,” I whispered. His crooked grin prepared me for his bullshit response.
“Remember that when you revamp your will.”
I take back everything I said.
“You’re a dickhead, you know that?”
He chuckled and wiped away another tear from under his glasses. “I prefer strategic planner, thank you.”
“Go to Hell.”
“Eventually, but have you heard from Kiyah?”
“I spoke to her about thirty minutes ago, and she said she’s jumping on the next flight out of Chicago.”
“You two will be cool, right? You’re not gonna be on any of that weird shit, are you?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
I confessed to Kieran the extent of my fight with Kiyah, including everything I said.
He was appalled, and I could physically see the high regard he held for me slip away a little.
I couldn’t blame him; I felt the same way about myself once the anger subsided, and all that was left was regret and an implausible wish for a time machine.
“Good. I’d hate to have to kick your ass about my sister.”
“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here,” Casey said repeatedly, jogging in our direction. “How are they?” he asked, taking a moment to catch his breath.
“Where have you been?” Kieran asked accusingly.
“What does it matter? I’m here.”
Kieran shot a thumb in my direction. “It matters because Grant had to be busted out of rehab and made it here before you did. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had to get a nut off before coming.”
Anger flared on Casey’s face, and I quickly intervened when he lunged for Kieran.
Not because I was fearful that Casey would hurt him, but the opposite.
Kieran was a lover but also a fighter, and it wasn’t often that he backed down from a challenge.
Casey would end up on his ass if he took a swing at Kieran.
“We’re not doing this,” I said, holding Casey by the collar of his shirt. “We’re all scared, and emotions are high right now, but we’re better than this.”
He ripped himself out of my grasp. “I’m sorry, but I’m not taking advice from the family screw-up.”
My eyes widened incredulously.
The family screw-up? Is that what I am now?