Page 11 of Accidentally Mine
“Rebecca?”
I shook my head from the memories, focusing back on my aunt.She’d asked me a question.I blinked, trying to remember.Oh, yes.She’d asked if I was worried, if I thought Anthony would come back for me.
“I don’t know.He might come after me,” I answered my aunt, amending my answer because I didn’t want to worry her.But the truth was…yes, he would come after me.Probably the moment he was released.I bet he was even thinking about me right now.
Hair raised on my arms, and I crossed my arms over my chest, rubbing them away.
“I see why you might need to go, Rebecca,” Marie said, biting into her sandwich.“But I’m not leaving.I’m comfortable here, and no big-time mobster is going to tell me otherwise.”
My Aunt Marie was my second mother.After my mom died when I was seven, Marie stepped in to take care of me.It didn’t seem right to just run away without her, now that she was in poor health.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” I said with a sigh.
“Well, then.I guess that’s settled.”She leaned back in her chair, picking up the remote.“Fifty Shades Freedis on in ten minutes.Want to watch?”
I groaned inwardly, stood, and kissed the top of her head.“I still have some work to do on a story, and I’d like to get in touch with Steve to make sure everything is under control,” I told her.“Enjoy.”
I carried my laptop upstairs to my old room, then picked up my phone to call Steve, who’d sent me a few emails.Steve was my father’s unofficial business partner.Unofficial, because my father knew what the Markins could do.He never worried about himself, only about others, and so he was careful that the Markins never had a reason to come after anyone else.
It had been hard being away from my dad the past couple of years, communicating via burner phone, never able to tell him exactly where I was.I had always hoped that one day, I’d be able to come home to Boston, the city I loved, and be with my dad again.
My throat closed up.He’d worked so hard to raise me as a single dad.He’d had the help of Aunt Marie, yes, but he’d done so much for me.He ran Reece Associates, and yet still made sure he was home for dinner with me every night.When I’d gotten into Boston College, he’d been so proud of me, the first Reece to go to college, that he’d gone out and bought an entire wardrobe of BC clothes.Even BC socks.
After I left, Dad was my one lifeline to the world I knew.Living in Long Grove, I didn’t have friends or connections with anyone.And I’d had to sever ties with all my friends from Boston.He was the one who kept my spirits up as I waited for the trial.
“Don’t worry, hon,” he’d say to me.“Soon this will all be over, and you can come home.”
That never happened.When Anthony was sentenced to twenty years, I’d thought I could return.But then the elder Markin threatened my father, told him that if and when I returned to Boston, I’d be killed.
And now, this place didn’t feel like home anymore.
I put down the phone, no longer feeling like calling my father’s ex business partner.No, I didn’t have a home, and as long as the Markins existed, I never would.
3
Brent
Monday morning, I sat on a stool at the counter of the Common Café, finishing my coffee and toast while catching up on the news of the day, the business section of theBoston Globeopen in front of me.At six-thirty in the morning, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, I didn’t quite fit in with everyone else.Most of the clientele were a collection of people out for their morning exercise around the Common.The rest of the business class wouldn’t be out for another hour at least.
I’d been bred to be an early riser, just like my dad.For as long as I could remember, my father worked his ass off, rising before dawn to get to his factory job up in Woburn, where I grew up.Whenever he’d have a day off, we’d climb into his pickup at four in the morning and head north, to hunt with our bows.In the evening, we’d stand outside Fenway Park waiting to catch home run balls that flew over the Green Monster.
Whenever we came to Boston, we’d come to this café, sit at stools at the counter and “watch the world go by.”That was what he called it.He’d get me a hot cocoa and a donut, and he’d drink his coffee black as we sat there in our dirty jeans and flannel.
My way of dressing might’ve been different now, and I’d swapped out the cocoa for a strong cup of black coffee like my dad, but the scenery was still the same.Lots of harried Bostonians, running from here to there, absorbed in their everyday lives.
People didn’t often just take time to breathe.
I was reminded of that big-time after my accident.After I saw my life flash in front of my eyes.I should’ve realized it when I learned at a young age that my mother died shortly after giving birth to me because she delayed chemo for treatment of brain cancer.Or after my father passed away due to a stroke.But it took my own accident to make me realize…life wasn’t just about work.
I blinked into my coffee as I tried to remember when my father died, the memories just out of reach.It had happened…when I was a freshman.At MIT.I’d gone back to Woburn for the funeral, sold the house.Most of his valuables were in a box…somewhere.
“Would you like me to warm that up for you, sweetie?”the pert, red-haired waitress asked.I nodded, and she filled the cup.
“Thanks, Anita.”I smiled as I took a sip, thinking of how I used to pretend my hot cocoa was black coffee, just like Dad’s.That memory was hardwired, at least.“I’ll take the check, when you have a minute.”
She grinned and tapped on the counter, under my open newspaper.I looked and realized she’d already handed me the check.Remembered I’d even thanked her for it and taken out my wallet.
I looked around in a panic and found my wallet sitting on the counter.I sighed in relief.
