Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
She tilted her head but didn’t stop coming up to us.
Acting like she hadn’t heard him, she said, “I’ve been looking for you. I was going to sit with you but they said only family.”
She looked at me then accusingly.
I was family, bitch, I wanted to scream.
Instead, I tried to pull away, but Quinn wasn’t having any of it.
He held on tight, letting Elliette know without saying any words that she was interrupting.
“A minute, Elliette,” he ordered.
And, as if she finally chose to listen to him, she said, “Oh! Sure. Have the reunion with her. Would you like to meet up at the bar later for a drink? Six like usual?”
Meaning, this was something they did all the time, and I was interrupting.
“No,” he growled, sounding angry.
Still not catching a clue, Elliette continued to stand there.
But then something caught Quinn’s attention over my shoulder, and I knew based solely on how quickly Quinn let me go that it was none other than my brother.
I looked over my shoulder and sure enough, there he was.
He had his eyes on me, but his body was stiff, like he wanted to say something but wouldn’t.
Over the years, I’d made it known that my personal life wasn’t Costas’s business. And, Costas being Costas, had decided to give me that, despite his unhappiness.
He only did that when I wasn’t home, though.
He still liked to make trouble.
The moment I was gone, it was back to war.
God, I hated the gang and everything it entailed.
I wish they’d never taken hold of my brother.
I wished even more that my brother could see that his presence in that gang was slowly killing me, leeching the life right out of my body one day at a time.
Quinn pulled away even more, then said, “Elliette, want to go back inside?”
If that wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut, I didn’t know what was.
The moment she stepped toward us, I gave them my back and headed in my brother’s direction, anger written all over my face.
He waited until I was next to him before he said, “If it wasn’t necessary to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”
I crossed my arms and said, “Why’d you come?”
“To pay my respects,” he paused. “And to tell you something before you took off again.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“What?” I breathed, worried now.
“Nonna’s sick,” he blurted.
I looked over at him with surprise. “What?”
“She’s dying, honey,” he said. “Slowly. She has stomach cancer.”
I closed my eyes as the tears that’d been threatening to spill since Quinn had chosen Elliette over me finally did.
“When did you find out?” I breathed.
He clenched his hand on the steering wheel before saying, “Last week. We were working up the nerve to call you home.”
I dropped my head. “How long did they give her?”
“It’s early,” he answered. “But since she’s not willing to get treatment, it’s going to be painful for a while for her.”
I swallowed hard.
Our stubborn Nonna.
Damn her.
“Sing with me, Nonna?” I said later.
My Nonna, my best friend growing up, smiled at me.
The smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“What shall we sing, my Nipotina?” Nonna asked.
“Over the Rainbow,” I suggested.
Nonna caught my hand, and then we started singing.
We sang until Nonna got too tired.
And even then, I kept singing.
Maybe if I didn’t stop, the world wouldn’t intrude.
I like to refer to myself as a free spirit because it sounds better than ‘out of control.’
—Shayne to Ande
SHAYNE
1 year later
It took her twelve months to die.
The stubborn, beautiful, best Nonna in the world suffered greatly every day before that, too, defying all odds that had been set against her.
Each day felt like a piece of my soul had left my body.
“Sing.”
I looked down at my Nonna’s face, so pale and so utterly at peace with herself.
“What do you want me to sing?” I asked her.
This was our thing.
We sang.
From the first memory I had of the two of us, that’s what we did.
We sang her favorite songs, and as I grew up, mine.
We’d call each other, and we’d sing.
Hell, there were a few times we’d even roped in Quinn and Costas.
Quinn could actually carry a tune.
Costas was a lost cause.
“You know what.” She smiled. Or tried to.
She didn’t have the strength to do that anymore.
I sang “Hey Jude” for her, then “Sugar, Sugar.”
Somewhere in between the lyrics of “Sugar, Sugar,” her hand went limp in mine.
I watched avidly for her chest to raise, and it didn’t.
A knot formed in my throat, and I choked out my last song, meant only for her.
“You Raise Me Up.”
The moment the lyrics were finished, my brother’s voice sounded from the doorway.
“Is she…”
“She is,” I confirmed, voice hoarse.
“I’ll call the nurse.” he whispered, walking to me and pulling me in for a tight, fast hug before letting go.
I didn’t let go of her hand until the nurse arrived and asked me to give her some room.