Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I wasn’t here for my dad. I wasn’t here for his new family and my half-siblings. I was here for those two.
I had a smile on my face as I walked back up to the school’s front door. “Just come on in. There are so many parents today that we’re not requiring IDs. You remember where Jett’s class is?”
I nodded.
I had a steel trap for a memory. I could remember every goddamn thing I ever did. Which was also my curse.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
She winked and waved me away.
The teacher that had let Jett out of my truck this morning was in front of me, and she slowed to come to a walk at my side.
“I just love Jett,” she gushed. “I was teaching a lesson the other day. I was asking the class to show me on their fingers how many five was. Well, all of the kids held up one hand, with all five fingers up. But Jett,” she grinned. “Jett held up three fingers on one hand, and two on the other. I then got to teach a lesson to the class that I wasn’t intending to teach this early. That there are sometimes multiple right answers.”
I found myself grinning.
That was Emmie coming out in him. She was always that kind of person, thinking outside the box. I’d say we should do something one way, and she’d suggest another. And most of the time her way was better.
“That’s the kind of…”
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The fruit from my hand dropped, and automatically I was running, reaching for my sidearm as I rushed in the direction of the gunfire.
Only, my gun wasn’t there because I’d taken it off to come inside the school.
Like any sane human being should’ve done.
The gunfire continued, and as I ran, my gorge rose.
Because I was rushing in the direction of Jett’s classroom.
***
Hours later, I knew that I looked as haunted as I felt.
My eyes were dead as I looked at the FBI agent in charge of the shooting.
“Can you tell me where he went?” he asked.
I pointed to the door that I’d seen the shooter flee through.
Never in my life would I have thought that I’d have to choose something so horrible.
Stay and help a classroom of pre-kindergarten children, multiple four-year-olds, who’d been gunned down in their little chairs made just for them, or chase after the man who had gunned them down.
That wasn’t even including the ones that’d been hurt in the class next door.
I’d made the decision to stay once I’d seen him exit the building. Then I’d held Jett as he looked at me with pain-filled eyes and took his last breath.
After his heart that was so full of life just hours before stopped beating and his tiny body went limp, I’d wept big, racking sobs that tore out of my throat with the anguish that was quaking my core.
I could still feel his cooling hands in my own.
Could see the blank, thousand-yard stare in his dead eyes that I’d never, not ever, wanted to see on someone I loved again.
Putting his little body down had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.
I hadn’t wanted to go with the police outside to talk. I hadn’t wanted to explain what had just happened. Yet, here I was, giving the FBI agent everything that I could possibly give him.
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
I explained, in detail, the man I’d seen. A kid really. One about Gunner’s age.
“Uncle Parker!”
I moaned low in my throat, then turned to find Gunner standing at the police barricade, his eyes panicked.
“I need a minute,” I said to the agent.
The agent took one look at the kid, my nephew, and nodded once. “I’m done. If I have any further questions, I’ll find you.”
I didn’t say another word to him as he walked away.
Instead, I steeled my spine and walked to where Gunner was standing.
He was dressed in baseball pants, a black t-shirt, and cleats.
He must’ve come straight from practice the moment he’d heard.
His shirt was still stained with sweat, and he had caked dirt on both knees.
“Uncle Parker…” Gunner’s voice broke. “Is it…”
I nodded.
It was true.
Oh, God, was it true.
It fucking hurt to nod my head. It hurt so goddamn bad that I could barely find it in me to breathe.
“No,” he croaked. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”
Instead of giving him what he so desperately wanted to hear, that this all was just a sick fucking joke, I walked to Gunner and drew him into my arms.
“Gunner…” my voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”
And that was the moment that I watched my sister’s son—all I had left of her—break apart in my arms.
Never to be put back together again.
We’d literally lost everything.
His mother. My sister. His grandmother. My mother. His son. My nephew.
Goddamn, but there was nothing else to lose but each other.