Chapter 15 - GETTING BACK UP
Marco was awake when I entered his hospital room.
He saw the photograph in my hand.
Then closed his eyes.
“So they found it.”
I stood near the bed.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Was my father alive after the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
My hands began to shake.
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
I wanted to hit him.
The strange thing was, he knew.
He didn’t call security.
Didn’t defend himself.
He simply waited.
“Why?”
“Because your father escaped.”
“What?”
Marco looked toward the window.
“Salvatore interrogated him. Daniel escaped during a transfer.”
Hope rose inside me even though I knew how the story ended.
“He came to me.”
“Why you?”
“Because he still believed I might be innocent.”
“Were you?”
Marco swallowed.
“Not completely.”
There it was.
The last secret.
“I didn’t tell Salvatore about the meeting.”
“But?”
“I told Richard Whitmore.”
I felt cold.
“I thought Richard was helping Dominic.”
“And Richard told Salvatore.”
“Yes.”
“So Dad was right to suspect you.”
“Yes.”
Marco’s eyes filled.
“I made one phone call. One stupid phone call.”
He looked at me.
“And your father died because of it.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Daniel came to me after escaping. He was hurt. He wanted to get Linda and you out of Illinois.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Because Salvatore already had men watching your apartment.”
Marco’s voice cracked.
“Daniel knew if he went home, he would lead them to you.”
I thought of Mom waiting.
Dad never coming.
Eight years believing he abandoned us to death.
“He stayed away to protect us.”
“Yes.”
“What happened three days later?”
Marco looked at his hands.
“He asked me to take him to a federal contact.”
“Elena?”
“No. Someone before her.”
“And?”
“Richard found us.”
I stopped breathing.
“There was a fight.”
Marco touched an old scar along his neck.
“I was shot. Daniel could have escaped.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No.”
Of course he didn’t.
“He came back for me.”
Dad.
Always coming back for people.
“What happened?”
“Richard shot him.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he suffer?”
“No.”
I looked at Marco sharply.
“Don’t lie to make me feel better.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“He looked at me and said, ‘Tell Avery I got back up.’”
My face collapsed.
I sat down.
All those years.
All those fights.
Dad used to say it every time I lost.
Winning didn’t matter.
Getting hit didn’t matter.
Being afraid didn’t matter.
Get back up.
That was his last message to me.
Not goodbye.
Get back up.
I cried until I had nothing left.
Then I stood.
Marco looked surprised.
“Where are you going?”
“To class.”
He almost laughed.
“Daniel would like that.”
I paused at the door.
“I don’t forgive you.”
“I know.”
“Maybe I never will.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“But you told me the truth.”
He nodded.
“That’s all I’ve got left.”
I left him there.
Dominic pleaded guilty to multiple federal charges that afternoon.
His cooperation dismantled what remained of Salvatore’s network.
Salvatore received a sentence that guaranteed he would die in prison.
Elena Ruiz lost her badge and eventually took a plea deal.
Vanessa fought every charge.
Blamed Dominic.
Blamed Salvatore.
Blamed her father.
Blamed me.
The jury didn’t care.
She received twelve years.
I never visited her.
I never wanted revenge badly enough to keep her in my life.
Mom’s health stabilized.
Not magically.
Real life rarely gives you miracles that clean.
There were still dialysis mornings.
Still bad days.
Still bills.
Still fear.
But there were good days too.
She came to my first college exam with a homemade sign that said:
MY DAUGHTER IS SMARTER THAN YOUR DAUGHTER.
I made her put it in the car.
She waved it through the windshield instead.
Dad’s truck became my weekend project.
It barely started.
It smelled like old leather and gasoline.
I loved it.
Six months after the night in Lake Forest, I walked into a martial arts gym for the first time in eight years.
The smell hit me immediately.
Rubber mats.
Sweat.
Disinfectant.
Home.
A teenage girl was sparring near the mirrors.
She got swept.
Hit the mat.
Stayed there.
Her coach called out, “Come on, Mia. Up.”
The girl shook her head.
“I can’t.”
Without thinking, I said, “Yes, you can.”
Everyone looked at me.
I almost apologized.
Old habit.
Then I didn’t.
The girl looked over.
I smiled.
“Getting knocked down is the easy part.”
She slowly stood.
I felt Dad beside me.
Not as a ghost.
Not as a tragedy.
As a voice I had carried all along.
Hands up, Avery.
I signed up for a class.
My first round lasted ninety seconds before I was completely exhausted.
A woman half my size kicked me in the ribs.
I fell.
The room spun.
For half a second, I saw Vanessa standing over me in that mansion.
Cake on the floor.
My cheek burning.
Sixty strangers watching.
I remembered the woman I was that night.
Broke.
Tired.
Angry.
Terrified.
But not weak.
Never weak.
I pushed one hand against the mat.
Then the other.
And I stood.
Because my father had been right.
Strength was never about putting somebody else on the floor.
It was about deciding that no matter who tried to keep you there—
you would get back up.
Every.
May you like
Single.
Time.
