Page 9 of Fight Or Flight

Brooklyn

When my mom first mentioned coming to New York to seek out my biological father, I tried to prepare myself for all the potential outcomes. I imagined him slamming the door in our faces and of course; he was married with two kids and a golden retriever. In my head, the man who made it possible for me to be born lived a good life—one that didn’t have room for an illegitimate child. Especially one he didn’t want. But I never factored coming here only to find out he was murdered seventeen years ago.

Eric Nicholson, or more commonly known around here as Bones, is dead.

Morte.

I suppose I should feel some kind of way—some sort of emotion, but maybe I’m too shocked. Too bitter. He was a shot in the dark, this I knew, but he was our only shot and instead of worrying over what happens now, I just want to go back home. I want to spend the little time I have left with my mom memorizing everything about her. I want to commit her smile and the sweet sound of her laughter to my memory. I don’t want to be here, sitting in front of some stranger who insists we call him Riggs or Tiger and his perfect little family, as my mom cry buckets of tears.

“Joss,” Riggs calls softly to my mom and I lift my head to study him, taking in the way he leans across the table to take her hand. I wish he would just shut up and while we’re at it, I wish his wife would keep her mouth closed too. As nice as my mom’s long-lost friend and his precious Kitten are, they break her heart a little more every time they open their mouths. At least their son, Eric, knows how to remain silent.

“If he would’ve gotten that letter…” Riggs continues, stopping to shake his head. His voice hoarse when he finishes the sentence. “…I would’ve known. He would’ve told me and he…well, he wouldn’t have—”

“If he knew he was a dad, he would still be here today,” Lauren, his wife and apparently his kitten too, finishes for him.

They exchange a solemn look and I glance at their son, Eric. The poor guy hasn’t moved an inch since his mom dropped his hand to take a seat next to mine and when his parents explained how Bones jumped in front of a bullet meant for Lauren, ultimately saving both their lives, he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. I don’t blame him, I kind of feel the same way.

“You don’t know that for sure,” my mom whispers. “When it’s our time, it’s our time.”

Her words pack a punch, one I feel deep in the pit of my belly, and I quickly tear my eyes away from Eric to stare at her. How could she be so careless with her words? Doesn’t she realize her time is almost up? That she is sitting here mourning a man who died seventeen years ago while I’m mourning her.

My mom.

The only person I love in this world.

The only person who loves me back.

When it’s our time, it’s our time.

“It doesn’t matter if he got the letter or not,” I blurt, pushing back my chair. I turn to her, taking in her wide eyes. “He’s dead. Game over.”

“Brooklyn,” she admonishes, clearly embarrassed by my outburst, but I don’t care. Let them think I’m a self-centered brat. I can’t do this anymore, not when we’re running out of time.

I shake my head and stand.

“No, he’s dead, mom.”

“Sweetheart,” she whispers, rising to her feet.

Full of unshed tears, my eyes plead with hers.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper hoarsely.

Where it’s us against the world.

“Please,” I beg.

Her sad eyes bore into mine as she reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face. Seeming to sense the desperation clawing at my entire body, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

I instantly breathe a sigh of relief. Her hand falls from my face and she turns back to Lauren and Riggs. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, she loses her balance. My heart stops as she falls to the floor and for a split second, I’m paralyzed with fear. Lauren is quick to react and drops to her knees, rolling my mom over so her head lies on her lap. Riggs hurries around the table too—even Eric rushes to her aide. It’s me who can’t seem to move.

Me, who silently prays this isn’t it.

Me, who hears her voice echo loudly inside my head.

When it’s our time, it’s our time.

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