Hold on to Hope

by Jackson, A. L.

  Same place they would probably still be coming long after he was gone.

  The moon was high, and he was still itching from what Frankie had said up at the falls earlier this afternoon, still itching from his checkup with his doctor.

  Unable to handle it for a second longer, he stood and slipped away into the darkness. His mom cast him one worried glance as he headed for the woods.

  He smiled a big smile for her, wishing it felt as real as it used to. Last thing he wanted was to hurt her. To cause her more worry than she’d already had.

  Evan started to climb the narrow trail, the one that weaved up the back way to the cliffs, though it sat farther back where the smoothed rocks met the trees in a tapestry of landscapes.

  Nothing but peace and serenity.

  Where he could sense the sounds and the rustles and the vibrations rushing over his skin. He sank down on a patch of leaves and turned his face to the night.

  Stared up at the stars written in the sky.

  A history that went on for eternity.

  He felt the shiver of energy break through the perimeter of the trees.

  He didn’t even have to look that way to know it was her.

  She was always like a burst of light.

  He released a heavy sigh. Wasn’t sure if he could handle her right then.

  Evan glanced her way, signed with his elbows still rested on his knees. YOU NEED TO GO BACK TO CAMP.

  She rolled her eyes like his request was ridiculous and kept coming closer. He tried to hold his breath when he felt her aura swirl around him like a cotton candy breeze.

  DON’T WANT TO. She plopped down at his side. WHY ARE YOU BEIN’ SUCH A BUTTHOLE TODAY, ANYWAY? DID YOU EAT A WHOLE BAG OF SOUR CANDY? YOU’RE MAKING THAT FACE.

  She puckered up her entire face like she was sucking on something bitter.

  Almost laughing, Evan hugged his knees closer to his chest.

  “You shouldn’t do that. Not a great look for you, Frankie Leigh. Your face might get stuck like that.”

  She smiled wide then looked at him in worry, like she could read his mood the same way as he could read hers.

  “Sorry.” He knew it had to be a mumble. He wasn’t even sure she could understand it.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” She grinned at him. I JUST LIKE YOUR FROGGY FACE BETTER.

  His head shook in playful disbelief and a little bit of truth. “So I’m nothin’ but a toad, huh?”

  “I’ll have to kiss you to find out.”

  “Frankie,” he warned, sighing again, roughing his hands through his hair before he forced himself to look back at her, letting himself get washed in the heaviness that had been following him all day.

  He decided just to lay it out.

  No more tiptoeing.

  No more pretending.

  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WHEN I DIE, FRANKIE LEIGH?

  He saw it.

  Felt it. Grief pierced through her being.

  Arrows of sorrow that impaled her spirit.

  Gutting.

  Crushing.

  No thirteen-year-old should ever have to look like that.

  But Evan wondered if either of them had ever truly gotten to be kids with the things they’d gone through.

  “Don’t say that, Evan. Don’t ever say that.”

  Evan’s brow pinched as he looked at her. YOU NEED TO FACE IT, FRANKIE. ACCEPT IT. IT’S TIME YOU STOPPED FOLLOWING ME AROUND LIKE I’M THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD AND LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE.

  He knew her well enough to know it was anger that blazed through her tiny body, and she was scrambling around to get on her knees in front of him, the movements of her hands chaotic. JUST SHUT UP, EVAN. SHUT UP! YOU CAN’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT. YOU HAVE TO KEEP BELIEVING THAT YOU’LL BE OKAY AND YOU WILL.

  “Life and death don’t work that way.”

  She pressed her lips together like she was trying to keep them from trembling. “Fine. Maybe you won’t be here forever. Maybe I won’t, either. Maybe I’ll trip right off this cliff and hit my head and die right now. Or maybe I’ll get run over tomorrow. Or maybe when I’m thirty. None of us know. The only thing I know is while we’re here, you’re supposed to be with me. Together.”

  She gestured wildly between them, her fingers reaching out to trace over his heart.

  Heat streaked across his skin.

  Their connection fierce.

  He had the flash of the thought that maybe she was right because something that powerful shouldn’t be possible.

  “You’re my best friend. My everything. Remember what we promised?” she begged. “That when we’re grown, we’re gonna get married for real? We belong together.”

  Her lips moved and Evan watched and his heart hurt more than it ever had. He knew her words shook with a sob, that they were all messed up with her worry and her hope that she continually tried to get him to hold on to.

  Emotion crashed, and his stomach fisted, and crap . . . he needed to get her out of there because she made him feel too many things all at once.

  That belief that was threatening to go missing tried to climb back to the surface. The girl shining all her light on his dark.

  “I can’t ever have kids, you know that right? Even if I live until I’m a hundred, I can’t have kids or have a normal life and that is not something you want. If I do, they’re going to end up like me, and I can’t do that. And believe me, you’re going to want the things I can’t give you.”

  I’M BROKEN, FRANKIE.

  He knew it was all kinds of wrong that he was having this discussion with a thirteen-year-old. That he was even giving a thought to these things.

  Like they were adults and having to make important decisions about their lives.

  But Evan didn’t have the luxury of waiting.

  Not when he didn’t know if he’d even have tomorrow.

  “I don’t care, Evan. I don’t care about any of that. The only thing I’ll ever want is you.” Frankie promised it like she actually knew it as the truth, and he knew in that moment, she meant it, but she didn’t have the first clue what that meant she would be giving up.

  NO, FRANKIE.

  She completely ignored him and crawled forward and signed against his chest, the energy flashing with each stroke of her hand. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.

  Evan wanted to weep.

  He wanted to hold her.

  Keep her.

  Fuck, he’d do anything to be different. To be normal and right. To be free of the affliction.

  She leaned forward, her dark eyes watching him, flecks of cinnamon that danced in the night.

  Her sweet intensity crashed over him, filling him up and draining him dry.

  She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

  Pressing firm and lingering.

  They’d kissed before. Little pecks. But never had it been like this.

  The two of them breathed each other’s breaths, their eyes locked and staring the whole time. And Evan knew he knew her better than anyone else, but that was the moment he thought he saw into her soul.

  The true kindness that was there.

  Belief without barriers.

  Faith without doubt.

  This girl the brightest gift.

  Wiser than a woman and more innocent than a child.

  He wanted to cling to it.

  Believe in it.

  Be thankful for it because he doubted there were many people who got to experience a connection like this even if they were given old age.

  Still, he pushed her away by the shoulders. “Frankie,” he rasped, fighting to gather his feelings. To get himself back in check. “You can’t go kissing me.”

  “Why not?” She was back to pouting.

  “Because you’re thirteen.”

  “Doesn’t change the way I feel.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m almost sixteen, and if your dad found out I was even thinking about it, he’d chop off my dick.”

  Okay.

  So maybe that might be a
solid plan.

  Just get rid of the problem.

  Frankie giggled, her face half embarrassed and half interested, a reminder that she was way too young to be having this conversation, anyway.

  But then she was getting serious again.

  Perceptive and discerning.

  “Do you remember what your mama always told us, Evan? When we were little? All those suckers we made to try to help out other kids? That all you needed was a lick of hope. Do you remember what that felt like? When we knew we could do anything? Have anything we wanted in this life?”

  She touched his cheek.

  “Do you know what I want?”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Someday, I want you to kiss me again. Without this fear I see in your eyes right now. That’s what I want.”

  There was no chance he could let that happen. She deserved so much more than his wounds that would only in the end make her bleed.

  Still, he was following her line of sight toward the skies. In sync, the two of them laid back on the ground to stare upon the stars.

  WHICH ONE IS ME? she signed, though he’d shown her a thousand times.

  He didn’t mind.

  He’d sit there forever and whisper their mysteries.

  He threaded his fingers through hers, their arms not quite touching, the way they’d always done.

  And for the first time that day, he didn’t feel like he was going to drown.

  Twenty-One

  Frankie Leigh

  Evan: You left.

  So probably grinnin’ like a loon at the text message that came in was the exact opposite of what my response should be, but the fact that Evan was back and communicating and that my body was still hummin’ from last night was making me feel like I was flyin’.

  Teetering right on the edge of something magnificent.

  I just couldn’t help it.

  Couldn’t help the butterflies that went scattering and lifting and fluttering wild, wings tickling my belly and fluttering higher to quiver my heart.

  From where I stood at the counter at A Drop of Hope, I peeked around, making sure the coast was clear.

  Jenna was helping a customer, Aunt Hope was wiping down the tables in the dining area, and Carly was in the back putting the finishing touches on something delicious.

  No one was paying any mind to me or my scandalous activities.

  There we were—sneaking around again. Thing was, I was more unclear now about who and what we were than I’d ever been.

  I was scared to trust him, and I wasn’t scared to admit it. It was just a bitter, ugly consequence of what he had done.

  Still, my fingers were flying across the screen.

  Me: I did. I’m sorry. I guess I just needed to clear my head.

  I stood there staring at the phone, anxious as I waited for a response. Seemed to take forever before one buzzed through.

  Evan: Are you already regretting me?

  Got the feeling it was somewhere between a tease and a serious question. That was the problem when things went amiss. When connections got broken. You were suddenly walking on thin, cracked ice, tryin’ to be careful not to make a wrong move that would send you tumbling through.

  I worried at my bottom lip. I almost laughed, thinking about my gramma on my daddy’s side who’d passed a couple years back. She was the one who’d taught me that phrase, said it was my tell when I was upset, the worrying that I did.

  God, I missed her.

  She would have had a whole ton to say about this.

  Probably like jump in and get wet and see how good it felt to get drenched.

  I just wished I could grab back on to that philosophy.

  Me: I don’t think I could ever regret you, Evan Bryant.

  Evan: That’s good because I have to admit I kinda enjoyed last night. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. Only thing that could have made it better would have been waking up with you by my side.

  Redness streaked. Heat rising fast. Wondering what that might be like. To wake up in this boy’s arms each day. God, how badly had I wanted that? Dreamed of it for all my life?

  I needed to tamp that down before I got ahead of myself.

  Me: Kinda?

  All right, so I couldn’t help the tease.

  Took all of two seconds for him to respond.

  Evan: Getting to touch you is the best feeling in the world, Frankie Leigh. You touching me? That’s a fucking miracle.

  My grin was getting ridiculous as I peeked around, being sly as I tapped out a response.

  Me: I am pretty amazing, aren’t I?

  A string of texts started bleeping through.

  Evan: Spectacular. Breathtaking. Sexy as fuck.

  Evan: Glittery.

  Evan: So damn sweet.

  Oh God.

  My belly was flip-flopping with those feelings I hadn’t come close to forgettin’, but had come to the acceptance that they were just something that were going to be missing from my life.

  Another message came through.

  Evan: You need more?

  I could feel his amusement from across the space. I loved it more than I wanted to admit.

  Me: Well, it doesn’t hurt.

  Evan: Don’t ever want it to hurt.

  I sighed a little. Could it really be that easy? Could he just come back here and we could pick up right where we left off? Could I forget three years of hurt and worry and torment? Most of all, could I be certain that he wouldn’t regress into that boy who I’d hardly recognized?

  Although, if I were being honest, if I looked hard enough, the warnings were there. The way he’d go far away.

  Distressed and disturbed.

  The overwhelming weight of the burden he’d carried.

  I just wished he would have understood that I wanted to carry some of it, too. Hold it for him. Hold his hope and his faith and his fear.

  That way, both of us would know we were never alone.

  I guessed that was what made me the most hesitant.

  I glanced over at Aunt Hope who I could feel peeking at me.

  I wondered how badly she was experiencing the same fears, too.

  Though now, it was multiplied, that little boy suddenly filling up the space and the air and their lives.

  I turned away and tapped out a message.

  Me: I just don’t know where to go from here, Evan. Only thing I know for certain is I am so thankful that you’re home. So thankful that you have found a reason. You think I’m amazing? That little boy is the miracle.

  I did my best to dodge the stake of pain. An arrow impaled at my back. Whispered a thousand prayers for an actual miracle.

  That this child would be spared.

  Before I completely got lost, I tucked my phone in my back pocket, deciding I’d better get my tail back to work. I was definitely slacking.

  Call me distracted.

  I checked the displays for what needed to be restocked and pushed back into the kitchen to grab a few things while my phone continued to go off.

  Carly pointed at the back of my jeans. “Your butt’s having its own personal dance party. Why do I get the feelin’ only you’re invited? What’s he saying?”

  I rolled my eyes. “We were only saying hi. You are so damned nosy.”

  “That seems like a whole lot more than just hi. And hello . . .” She gestured at herself. “Being nosy is my job.”

  “He was just wondering why I took off this mornin’ without saying goodbye,” I grumbled a little.

  “And did you figure that out yet?” she asked as she rinsed a big silver mixing bowl and put it into the dishwasher.

  A self-deprecating huff filtered between my lips. “Uh . . . let’s see. I think it goes something like I’m scarred and a little broken and a whole lot chicken.”

  Carly scowled. “Chicken? Hardly. I mean, maybe one with its head chopped off half the time,” she razzed, “but you, girl, are no coward. If you’re guilty of anything, it’s self-preserv
ation, and you know full well that’s not even close to being the same thing.”

  I started arranging an assortment of cupcakes onto a tray. “Yeah, and what’s it called when you know you want something so bad—when you know it’s right for you—and you’re still afraid to reach out and take it?”

  “When it’s already bitten you on the hand? That’s called protectin’ yourself.”

  I sent her a scowl. “I thought you were the one who was all about us hookin’ up and putting down money on the fact it was gonna happen? Hell, I’m pretty sure you were pushing me at him the first time he walked through that door.”

  “Oh, I’m all for you two. There is no other duo like the duo of Evan and Frankie Leigh. All’s I’m saying is you don’t have to feel bad that you’re having these reservations. That it’s okay to be cautious.”

  She eyed me from across the large prep island. “What I want most is for you to demand that the two of you are up front and honest about everything. Things went south real fast when you both started making decisions about what was best for the other without asking the other for their opinion.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Her barking laugh cut me off. “You did. You thought you needed to carry more of his burden, protect him, and he did the same for you by removing himself from the picture. Look where that got both of you.”

  My pants pocket continued to go off like the Fourth of July. A new message came in every few seconds.

  She angled her head. “So, talk to him. Let him know where you stand. And I’m asking you as a friend and someone who cares about you both . . . no more secrets, Frankie Leigh.”

  She grabbed a big jug of creamer, not looking back when she left me alone in the kitchen.

  Wow.