So here I am the next morning, after hanging up on my mother-in-law before she could argue with me over my seemingly fatal decision to race against time to save my son.
I throw on my jeans and a sweatshirt, followed by boots, and snatch my jacket and a couple blankets as I rush downstairs to let Tom know what's happened.
Coming to a stop at the kitchen, I take a deep breath and rush to his side. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips, I rush over and old each of my sons tight for a moment. Gabe, who is 9, and Ridley, who is 13, stop eating at one look on my face knowing something is wrong.
"What's happened?" Tom asked, as he hurries around the island to look me in the eyes.
"It's Dean, he refuses to leave. I have to go get him."
"I'll call mom, that will take too long.", he says.
Shaking my head, I preceded to tell him the conversation we just had.
"I will NOT lose him. Get the boys to the bunker and I'll meet you there. I promise. We will all come out the other side of this together."
With a look of defeat, he relents, but holds me in his arms a little longer. Finally, with a few tears shed from both my family and myself, I gather my purse and a few snacks for the road and head out to bring my son home.
As I settled into my SUV, I hang up the picture I snatched on my out of our family. It was taken last Christmas. Tom, Gabe, Ridley, myself, and our oldest Peter. Peter moved up North a few years back at the age of 21 to pursue his dream in game technology. I knew he was safe. He had called me last night to let me know he was ok and they had a bunker directly down from his apartment he would go to. This morning he messaged me letting me know he was already settle in at the bunker and to let him know when we all got there ourselves.
Peter was handsome, as were all my boys, with his shaggy brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. He stood 5'9 and was my head strong child. Gabe was tiny for his age, reaching just under 50 lbs, with light brown hair shorn down around the sides but long on top. He was my momma's boy. Ridley, well he was my active, not scared of anything, son. He was already 5'5 at his age and had neck length deep brown hair. He didn't take no for an answer and let nothing get in his way. Already being scouted by colleges for his amazing soccer skills, he was also a current bull riding champ in his league. Then, then there was Dean. Topping out at 6'2 with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, he was a modern day prince charming. If prince charming was a stubborn young man who didn't listen to his mother, that is.
With a great sigh, I started up my SUV and pulled out of my drive to bring him home where he belonged. If only I knew then the trip I was taking would go anything but smooth.