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I held Daisy and Nori in my arms, and the remainder of the children sprawled on the sectional with their favorite blankets and snacks while we watched a movie. I didn’t know much about the film, except that it was rated G and animated.
Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. They’re not fighting, puking, or shitting. That’s a win in my book.
We jumped when someone frantically rang the doorbell.
I swear to God, this better not be Eliza….
“Someone’s at the door,” Casey announced as I slid the girls off my lap.
“Thank you, Case. I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“That’s because you’re old,” he reminded me.
“You got me there,” I sighed, trekking to the front door. I checked the monitor and was relieved that it was my father, but the relief lasted only for a second when I noticed how disheveled he was. He was typically the epitome of poised, level-headed, and in control. His hair was mused, sweat dripped from his temples, his tie was missing, and his clothing was wrinkled.
“Dad, what’s the matter?”
“Kierra was in an accident and is en route to the hospital. You need to go.”
My brows furrowed in confusion.
Kierra? Accident? Hospital?
He snapped his fingers in my face, gaining my attention.
“Jon, you have to go to the hospital.”
“Wait…wait…how—”
“We were on our way here, and an SUV hit her on the highway. We stopped to render aid and call the police. Your mother was keeping her calm and assessing her injuries. She asked who her emergency contact was when Kierra gave her your name. I called you several times.”
“My…my phone is in the kitchen. Oh, my God,” I muttered, reaching for the wall to steady myself. I swallowed down the meager breakfast I scarfed down while my father droned on in the background. “Was it Eliza?”
“Eliza? No, it looked like an SUV full of teens. Why would you expect Eliza?”
“How bad is it?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“I expect them to rush her to surgery; however, she was conscious and speaking when I left. Your mother is with her and is riding with her to the hospital.”
My thoughts immediately went to the worst possible outcome.
“I…I told her to be safe,” I whispered.
“She was, son. It wasn’t her fault that a bunch of irresponsible teens ran her over. I’ve been saying for decades that they should raise the driving age,” he complained.
“The kids…I need someone to watch the kids.”
“I’ll do it.”
“No, I need Anthony. Kiyah and Nori don’t know you.”
“Get yourself together, Jon, so that you can be there for Kierra,” he huffed in frustration. I followed him to the living room, where my kids greeted their grandfather excitedly. “Hey, my little munchkins. I heard you little terrors were sick.”
“I’m not sick anymore!” Casey professed, reaching up for a hug.
“I don’t know. You’re looking a little pale to me,” my dad replied, putting Casey on his hip.
“Your eyes are bad, Grandpa.”
