Luca (Chicago Blaze 2)
I take her to the deep end of the pool on my back and watch Jack and Cora go down the slide about a hundred times. The kids never get tired of this place, and we end up staying all afternoon. Even at 5:00 p.m., I have to force them to go.
“We can just have dinner here,” Jack says. “They have hot dogs.”
“Nope. Our meal delivery box came this afternoon, so we’re cooking something at home.”
“Not that spinach stuff again, right?” Cora asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“That was disgusting.”
“Yeah, you guys mentioned that about eighty-five times the night I made it.”
We all load into my SUV and Emerson is asleep before I drive out of the parking lot. Cora and Jack are fading by the time I pull into the garage. I carry Emerson in the house and lay her on a couch in the living room, pulling a blanket over her even though she still feels warm from the day in the sun. Cora and Jack disappear to their bedrooms, probably to lie down.
I sit down on the couch across from the one Emerson’s on, checking my phone for the first time in several hours. There’s a message from Abby.
Abby: Made it to Chicago. I think it’s even hotter here than in NYC. How was the pool?
Me: It was good but we’re all beat. Okay if I call soon?
While I wait for her response, I check the voicemail my mom left me. As soon as her voice comes on the line, my stomach drops.
“Luca, it’s Mom. Your dad and I are in Venice…Venice, Italy, not Florida, and he had a heart attack. He’s in surgery now. I don’t even understand what the people here are saying and I’m so worried. I’ll call you when I know more.”
Shit. I close my eyes, reeling at the thought of my dad lying powerless in a hospital bed. He’s always been strong and steady. I’ve never seen him break down, except when Matt died. My brother’s death is still an open wound for me. I can’t lose my dad, too.
And it’s even worse that my parents are in another country right now, dealing with Dad’s health emergency. I text my mom to let her know I’m on my way. I have to get to them. If I didn’t have the kids to think of, I’d be on my way to the airport right now, and I’d have a seat on the next flight, no matter what it cost me.
I could take the kids with me; they’re on summer break. But, I don’t know what kind of shape my dad will be in when I get there, and it could be too much for the kids. He might not even make it. The thought makes me sigh heavily and bury my head in my hands.
I’m about to dial Sheila to come watch the kids when I remember she’s vacationing with her sons. My heart rate speeds up as I realize I might not have a solution.
Jonah and Lily? They’re heading out on vacation soon, if they aren’t already gone.
Anton and Mia are also traveling, which most players do during our brief off-season.
Vic? I know he’d keep the kids safe, but man, would he be in over his head. He doesn’t have the first clue about taking care of kids. They could end up watching porn and eating nothing but frozen pizza.
My phone rings and I look at the screen. Abby. I slide my finger to answer it.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she says. “I hadn’t gotten a call, so figured I’d call you. How are you?”
“Not good. My folks are on vacation in Italy and my dad had a heart attack there. He’s in surgery now.”
“Oh my God, Luca. I’m so sorry.”
“It fucking sucks; I feel so helpless.”
“What can I do?”
I exhale hard. “Nothing, but thanks for the offer. I need to find someone to take care of the kids so I can get to Venice.”
“That’s right, your babysitter is traveling, too.”
“Basically everyone I know is traveling. It’s fucking summer, so I get it.”
“There’s no one else the kids know and trust?”
I stand up, pacing to the other end of the living room. “I met a couple at Emerson’s school a few months ago, John and Henry. We’ve gotten together with them a few times. They might be willing to help me out. It’s a lot to ask, though. They both work.”
There’s a pause before Abby says, “Do you want me to come over and watch them?”
I feel a surge of gratitude for her. I know it isn’t an easy thing for her to offer.
“No, you don’t need to do that. You’re in town for work, and I…I wouldn’t do that to you, babe. But thank you for the offer.”
“I can swing it with work; it’s no problem.”
“Yeah, but…I don’t want you back in a bad place emotionally, you know? You’re just getting back on your feet. I’ll figure something else out.”