Chapter 2: The Boy Everyone Wanted
Twelve days earlier, Jillian Bannon believed her life was ordinary.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But ordinary.
At 6:42 on a gray Monday morning, she found Cody sitting at the kitchen island with untouched cereal and a pencil moving across a white index card.
“Cody.””
Nothing.
“Cody.””
Still nothing.
She walked closer.
“Earth to Cody.””
The sixteen-year-old finally looked up, one earbud hanging loose.
“What?””
“You have eleven minutes.””
His eyes moved toward the clock.
“Oh.””
Jillian smiled.
“You know, one day you’re going to discover mornings happen every day.””
“I know.””
“You say that every morning.””
“I know.””
She laughed.
Cody was strange in the way kind people were strange. He noticed everything.
The old man who always fed birds outside the grocery store.
The waitress who hid her tired eyes behind perfect makeup.
The little girl who cried silently because she dropped her ice cream.
Cody drew them all.
Jillian picked up the card.
An elderly man stood beneath a bus shelter, holding a grocery bag over a small dog.
“This is from yesterday?””
Cody nodded.
“The dog was scared.””
“You talked to him?””
“No.””
“Why?””
Cody shrugged.
“I don’t know what to say.””
Jillian smiled.
“That has never stopped your father.””
A small laugh escaped him.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then Patrick Bannon entered the kitchen.
“Ready, buddy?””
“Almost.””
“You said that ten minutes ago.””
Patrick grabbed toast from Jillian’s plate.
She slapped his hand.
“Make your own.””
“I married you for your cooking.””
“You married me because you burned water.””
Patrick laughed.
It was a normal family moment.
Until Jillian looked at the refrigerator.
The funeral card was still there.
Shawn Bannon.
Forty-nine years old.
Dead twelve days.
Patrick noticed her expression.
“Dinner tonight.””
Cody’s pencil stopped.
Just for a second.
“Where?”” Jillian asked.
“My father’s.””
Cody looked down.
“Do I have to go?””
Patrick frowned.
“It’s family dinner.””
“It’s always family dinner.””
The room became quiet.
Jillian noticed.
Patrick did not.
His phone rang.
He stepped away.
Cody immediately put his pencil down.
“You okay?””
“Yeah.””
“You don’t sound okay.””
“I’m fine.””
She wanted to believe him.
Then his backpack fell open.
A stack of index cards spilled onto the floor.
Jillian helped pick them up.
One card was different.
It showed a door standing alone in a field.
No house.
No road.
Nothing.
On the back, Cody had written:
18 days until portfolio deadline.
She frowned.
“Cody?””
He quickly grabbed it.
“What?””
“What portfolio?””
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“It’s nothing.””
Before she could answer, Patrick returned.
“We need to go.””
That night at the Bannon estate, Jillian learned what “family” meant to the Bannons.
It meant closed doors.
Whispers.
People deciding things without asking.
Malcolm Bannon sat at the head of the table.
Patrick’s father.
The man everyone obeyed.
“Cody,” Malcolm said, “your uncle Shawn left behind unfinished work.””
Cody looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know anything about that.””
“You will.””
Jillian felt something cold move through her.
“Malcolm,” she said carefully, “Cody is sixteen.””
Malcolm looked at her.
“You married into this family. You should understand legacy.””
“No,” Jillian replied.
“I understand children.””
The room went silent.
Patrick looked at her.
“Jillian.””
But she continued.
“He’s not Shawn.””
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
Nobody spoke after that.
Later, when they returned home, Cody stood in the hallway holding his backpack.
“Jillian?””
“Yes?””
“Why did Grandpa ask me about my drawings?””
She froze.
“Your drawings?””
“He said my father was like that too.””
Jillian stepped closer.
“What else did he say?””
Cody hesitated.
Then he whispered:
“He said some people are born to continue what their family starts.””
That night, Jillian stayed awake.
May you like
And for the first time, she wondered if Shawn Bannon’s death was not the end of something.
Maybe it was the beginning.
