Before I Die

“Oh my God!” Kelsi shrieks.

“Let’s go.” I swing the door open and rush her into the car—my only goal to get her to safety.

On the way home, I call my dad and tell him what’s happened, and he says he’ll send someone to clean up the mess. Only when his guy gets there, Frank is no longer there.

“I knew this shit would happen!” my mom yells. “You’re in over your head, and Ethan is expecting a baby. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

“I’m handling it,” Dad says calmly.

“How?” Mom shrieks. “He’s going to end up in jail! His daughter will be fatherless!” Mom paces across the room, while Kelsi stays glued to my side. She’s shaking, probably in shock from watching me shoot the guy.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen,” Dad says, stepping toward her.

Mom takes a step back and Dad flinches.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says, her voice cracking. “Something has to give. This isn’t the life I want for us, for our son and his future wife, and especially not for our grandchild.”

A harsh, humorless laugh leaves Dad. “You wanted this life when I bought you this house.” His arms spread open. “When you bought those shoes, those clothes.” He points to Mom. “When you’re getting your hair done every other damn week.”

“I don’t want it at the expense of our family,” she argues.

“You knew what you were getting when you spread your legs for me,” Dad says. “When you begged me to knock you up so we could start a family. When you picked out your fucking wedding ring.”

“I was young!” Mom cries, tears flying down her cheeks. “Please, Drew. Your son and his fiancée were almost killed tonight. If he didn’t shoot the guy first, they would be dead.”

“You’re just on edge,” Dad says. “Let’s go to bed and talk about this in the morning.”

I expect Mom to argue some more, but instead she simply nods and goes upstairs quietly.

“Ethan,” Kelsi says once we’re alone. “Maybe your mom is right. You could quit working for your dad and get a normal job. And after the baby is born, I could get one too.”

“This job pays more than anything you or I could find,” I tell her. “I’m an eighteen-year-old with no job experience, and you can’t get a job, Kels. You said you want to be home with our little girl.”

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“You have nothing to be scared of,” I tell her, pulling her into my side and kissing her temple. “I will always protect you and our baby.”

“Ethan,” Dad says, bringing me back to the present. “We’ll figure this out.” He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Let me ask around and see what I can find out. For now, Nevaeh will stay here, and we’ll add some additional security. Your mom will be here with her as well, so when we’re at work she won’t be alone.”

I’ve never known my dad to take the ‘safe’ route. If this had happened a couple months ago, he would’ve put the hit on Logan and Felix himself. We don’t take chances. Not since…

Unsure what to make of this “new” man, I simply nod and walk past him toward the house. If he wants to play it safe because my mom is back, that’s on him, but I’m not taking a chance with Nevaeh. I’ll just have to handle it myself.

When I get upstairs, I find Nevaeh lying in her bed, cuddled up with her blankets. When she hears the door squeak open, she looks up, her eyes filled with fat tears.

“My mom called and left a voicemail. Stephen’s apartment caught on fire. They’re saying he was in it and must’ve been sleeping. He died in the fire. She said the police called and notified her.”

I nod once, waiting to see how she’s going to react. When she told me she and her parents would need closure, my initial thought was that’s not my fucking problem. But then I looked into her sad eyes and it was as if a switch in me clicked on. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason she’s sad. It might not have been me who pulled the trigger, but Logan worked for me, and somewhere along the way I lost control of him. I stopped paying attention, got too comfortable. So, her brother getting that far in over his head, the situation escalating the way it did, Logan doing shady shit behind my back, is all on me. And because of that, I made a call, and it was handled.

“My heart hurts all over again,” Nevaeh says, clutching her hand to her chest. “I already knew he was dead, but it still hurts like the wound is fresh.”

When she rubs her chest with her palm, I cut across the room and get into her bed with her. She scoots several inches forward to give me room, and I slip in behind her, kicking my loafers off and onto the floor. One arm snakes around her waist and the other slides under her head. As her head lifts slightly to lie on my arm and she leans back into my chest, I ignore the foreign feeling panging in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything, and I refuse to acknowledge what’s happening between Nevaeh and me.