“You okay?” I asked, glancing down at her, watching for her response.
“More than okay. I just can’t believe we finally are.”
I shifted so I could take her by both sides of the face. “We’ve always been. Now it’s time for the world to know it.”
Her smile was tender, this girl touching me deep, and God, I was having a hard time believing that this had become our reality, too. “Come on, let’s go show them exactly what that is.”
Taking her hand, I pushed open the door and led Frankie out behind me.
Was funny how you could tell when every single pair of eyes landed on you. Like it was catching. A domino effect.
Every single one of them felt the shift in the air.
A statement being written in the sky.
Everyone was there. Frankie’s family. All of mine. Aunt Nikki and Uncle Ollie. Their kids, too.
Not like we hadn’t been seen holding hands before. But I think they all knew this was different.
Think they heard the proclamation.
The declaration.
Could feel the force of my parents’ gazes, Frankie’s parents coming to stark attention.
I squeezed her hand a little tighter, and Frankie waved her free hand. “Hey, guys.”
Mom popped up, holding Everett, and she came our way. “Oh good, Frankie is here.”
She gave us a soft smile as she approached, and Everett was going crazy, babbling away as he reached his arms for Frankie.
Frankie immediately took him, held him to her chest, kissed his cheek as she started whispering words that I knew were nothing but adoration. Pure devotion.
Mom gave me a look that promised she’d known it all along.
That she was happy for us.
Frankie glanced back at me as she headed for her parents and Aunt Nikki and Uncle Ollie where they sat at a table under an umbrella, this look on her face that blew me away.
You wouldn’t think one look could say it all.
Love. Love. Love.
Infinite. Definite.
My broken heart expanded, making space that I didn’t think was possible.
And I knew . . . I knew.
I’d finally found what I’d been meant for all along.
* * *
“Your dad hates me.” I licked the vanilla cone as I smiled at Frankie where she sat across from me at the ice cream parlor. We’d left the barbecue forty minutes before, wanting a little time to ourselves.
She held out her cone for Everett, kid’s face completely smeared with the pink concoction, adorable as all hell.
Frankie giggled a little as he tried to bury his entire face in it and she tried to keep the situation under control.
Thought if Everett was given the chance, he would swallow it whole.
“My daddy does not hate you,” she said.
“Uh, I beg to differ. He shot daggers at me the entire afternoon. Was waiting around for him to push me up against a wall and tell me to stay away from his baby girl.”
Truth? He’d done it when I was seventeen.
Couldn’t say I blamed him.
Of course, when he’d done it then, he’d patted me on the cheek and told me I was a good kid and to watch myself because he wouldn’t want to have to hurt me.
Frankie tsked. “I’ve long since stopped being his baby girl. He was just . . . speculatin’.” With a shrug, she took a lick of the same cone she was sharing with Everett. That was cute, too.
“Speculating?” I asked, amusement filling the question.
“You know, to engage in a course of reason based on inconclusive evidence. To conjecture or theorize. Speculatin’.”
It was all a casual ramble.
So, it was hell having to watch her lips so closely when we were in a public place. I had this crazy urge to lean over the table and just kiss her.
Or maybe it was that we had Everett right there in a high chair.
No doubt, the poor kid was going to grow up subjected to constant PDA because I couldn’t help myself. Leaning up and over the entire table, I kissed her soft and slow, just little plucks of her lips, the tiniest fleck of my tongue. “Mmmm . . . cotton candy.”
She giggled against my mouth. “You like?”
Felt the words vibrating my skin.
“Very much. And did you just quote the definition of speculating to me?”
She giggled some more, this sexy tremor that rolled down my throat. I angled back so I could take in her eyes and her face and that mouth. “I might have. Seemed you were having trouble figuring out its meanin’.”
“No trouble. I was just disagreeing.”
“Okay, so my daddy used to be a tad bit overprotective. He’s over that now.”
“He glared at me over his beer the entire barbecue and didn’t say one word to me.”
Frankie turned serious, her hand brushing through Everett’s hair, her gaze on him so soft before she was turning it on me. “Honestly? He is protective, Evan. And you know what, that’s a good thing. I’d much rather have parents who care than ones who don’t give it a second thought. And after Jack . . .”
Anger flared at his name.
“I think he’s worried about what I’m getting myself in the middle of,” she admitted. I could tell her voice dropped with the admission.
I got that. Respected it. Hell, I was still worried that I was getting her in the middle of something that she shouldn’t be in myself. But like I’d promised her—I was over making that decision for her.
AND EVERETT? I asked, feeling my teeth clench at the thought of someone rejecting him.
Confusion knitted her brow. “How could anyone not love him, Evan? Stop worrying.”
I blew out a reluctant sigh and then I let a grin tug at one corner of my mouth. “Maybe I could buy your dad off?”
She rolled her eyes. “If you really want him to hate you, then go for it. Believe me, he cares about your money about as much as I do.”
I laughed. SO MONEY WON’T WIN ME ANY POINTS. WHAT WILL?
Everett had his hand wrapped around her finger, and she was swinging it around, making him laugh.
But she was looking at me. “I think the only thing you have to do is love me. The rest is goin’ to fall in line.”
Ten minutes later, we’d cleaned our table and gathered our things. Everett was getting sleepy, the evening coming on fast, and he pretty much slumped down on my shoulder when I pulled him out of his high chair.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Frankie must have heard it because she reached for Everett. “Here, let me take him.”
He cuddled onto her shoulder, taking a big handful of her hair and rubbing it on his face. Apparently, he liked Frankie about as much as I did.
I touched his cheek, sent her a smile as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and thumbed into it so I could check the text.
Seth: Hey, man, wanted to touch base about the situation. I’m 99.9% sure Jack is not the one responsible for the letters or any of the paintings.
Dread curled in the pit of my stomach.
I think I’d been just as sure. This sense that something was off. Still, I’d been hoping.
Praying it was something as simple as that.
Jealousy.
A man scorned.
That I could handle.
Could feel Frankie’s unease from the side, the way she was trying to make sense of what was going on.
Another text buzzed through.
Seth: I’ve dealt with bad guys my whole life, and I’d bet the deed on my house that he didn’t do it. He seemed completely oblivious to any messages being left, and he was all too keen to admit to being responsible for the fight. Said he was pissed and lost his temper.
Seth: There’s no evidence to think otherwise and my gut says he’s telling the truth.
My nod was slow, like he could see my response.
Seth: Sorry I don’t have better news. I’m changing the focus of the investigation to his mother. Now that you have proven
paternity, I can get in front of a judge and get an order to dig into her records. Hang tight, man. Let me know if you see ANYTHING that doesn’t sit right.
I looked up at Frankie who was watching me close. “What is it?”
“It wasn’t Jack.”
Fear streaked through her features. “Are you . . . sure? I . . . I mean, I knew he was released the next mornin’ and all, but I heard he’s been staying with his brother, hidin’ out. If that isn’t an admission of guilt then I don’t know what is.”
She hugged Everett tighter, like she recognized it, too. We’d both wanted it to be. An easy answer. A quick fix.
But pinning this on Jack didn’t fit.
“I think he didn’t want to be around you, Frankie.”
Wise choice.
A shiver of that fury slid beneath the surface of my skin.
I sucked it down.
We had bigger problems than that.
Apprehension moved through her body, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to process. “I’m scared, Evan.” Could tell she was whispering the words. Offering them to me with the trust she’d given me. “Scared for him.”
She nuzzled the side of Everett’s face, breathed him in, loved him in a way that I knew only an amazing girl like Frankie Leigh could.
I reached out and cupped her face. “We’re going to figure this out, Frankie. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to him.”
Her throat wobbled as she swallowed, but she was nodding her head against my hand. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
I led them out of the parlor, eyes darting everywhere like I actually thought I was going to see something. Like the truth was all of a sudden going to jump out at me.
Nothing but a fool’s game.
Except I did.
In my periphery.
At the very fringes of consciousness where the deepest sort of recognition lived. Where the base instinct to protect the ones I loved was bred.
That was the thing about being me.
The heightened senses were sometimes a blessing. Sometimes a curse.
Vibes that tingled and itched and pricked at my skin.
Barbs and hooks and knifes.
Because I felt her staring from where she was hiding in a doorway that was tucked back in a cove up the sidewalk in the distance. Head barely peeking out.
Like she’d been tailing us. Following us.
Watching us.
My heart skidded then jumped into a sprint, a thunder of desperation and anger filling me to the brim.
Her eyes went wide the second she saw that I’d noticed her. Fear taking her hostage.
Wasn’t even close to being as severe as mine.
Could feel Frankie getting confused from my side, protectiveness instantly lining her bones as she hugged Everett to her so fiercely while I started in the direction of Ashley.
Ashley whose head was shaking like she was begging me not to approach her.
Ashley who I could tell was starting to panic as I slowly started to weave through the people on the sidewalk like I was approaching a wild animal.
I was getting frantic myself when I saw that she was preparing to bolt.
She wavered, attention darting around, like she was searching for the best escape route.
Twilight had settled, blues and silvers strewn across the road as lamps blinked to life, a dusky haze pushing down from the heavens and gathering on the street.
She started to duck into it.
To get lost.
To disappear.
Vapor and mist.
“Ashley!” I shouted, shoving out from around a man who was taking a picture with his girl. I didn’t even take the time to give an apology.
She looked back at me.
Terror froze her expression.
My spirit clutched.
My senses coiled.
This awareness that everything was bad.
So goddamn bad, and if I was going to fix it, I had to get to her. She was the only one who held the answer.
The fate of my son.
“Ashley,” I yelled again as I got closer.
She started to push through the crowd.
Distraught.
Frenzied.
Deranged.
Panic gripped me, and I started to run, started to plea. “Ashely, stop! Wait!”
People were looking at me like I was the deranged one as I pushed through them. I shouted her name over and over.
While I felt like I was a second from everything coming apart.
Everything dependent on this moment.
On me getting through to her.
Ashley’s straight-brown ponytail bobbed furiously as she fled. I followed it like it was a flare streaking into the sky.
A shout for help.
Because my chest was tight. This feeling that she was not alright sliding into my bloodstream, knowledge pounding and beating and screaming.
“Ashley!”
She suddenly ducked across the street. A car skidded and swerved to miss her. She stumbled a bit, shocked, so terrified that she kept running to the other side.
I chased her down, dodging one car, then another, sure they were probably blaring their horns at me but not giving a shit about anything but getting to her.
I hit the sidewalk, finally catching up. The sheer fear radiating from her slipped across my sweaty flesh like a bad omen.
I grabbed her by the arm, and she whipped around, her eyes so big I was wondering if her brother was right.
If this girl was manic.
Maybe even crazy.
“Ashley,” I pled, knowing it was probably too loud and hard, but not knowing how to stop the outright desperation from flooding out. I gripped her by the outside of both shoulders to keep her from running. “Stop. Need to talk to you.”
Frantically, her head shook. “Let me go.”
“No . . . not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
Knots of dread curled her brow, and I could feel the agony radiating from her pores. “I . . . I just wanted to check on him. To make sure he is fine. That’s all.”
“Bullshit,” I gritted, probably holding her too tight. I had to beat down the urge to shake the truth out of her. I dragged her over to the building, into another doorway that was tucked back from the wall, the shop closed up for the night. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“I just need to be sure that you’ll take care of him. Protect him, no matter what.”
“Of course, I will, but you’ve got to tell me what the hell is going on here. I don’t know how to help him if I don’t know anything about his past.”
Harshly, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love him, Evan. I do. I’m sorry.”
I blinked, trying to make sense of the ramble of words she was releasing, faster than I could process them all. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. So I can help take care of him. So I can help take care of you.”
Her brow pinched, dread and confusion. “Sick? I’m not sick, Evan. You just . . . you need to protect him.”
She kept looking over her shoulder. Terror ridging her spine. Making her tremble and quake.
“But your brother—”
She yelped when I said that, and she jerked back, holding her arms over her chest as she backed away. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll try to stop it. I will. I promise. Just . . . take care of him. Please.”
“Ashley.” I started for her, and I saw her mouth form a screech when I grabbed her again, like she was getting burned from my touch.
Misery.
She yanked her arm to try to break from my hold. “You have to let me go.”
A man who was walking the street shouldered between us.
“Hey, asshole. You bothering her? She said to let her go.”
My surprise at him cutting between us gave her enough time to dart across the street, the guy blocking my way as she jumped into a car
waiting at the curb. Then she was gone.
Dread curled and shivered and rushed.
Fear a whirlwind that gusted and blew.
I looked back up at the street where Frankie was holding Everett, bouncing him, a protective hand on the back of his head.
There was a moment in my life when I’d thought I had no purpose.
When I’d believed I was more of a hindrance than a remedy.
No more.
Because standing there, I saw my life staring back at me.
And I was going to do whatever it took to protect it.
Twenty-Five
Evan
I followed Frankie up the steps to my parents’ porch. She still was refusing to let Everett go, cradling him as he slept against her chest, his thumb in his mouth.
We’d been down at the station telling Seth everything we knew, which was a whole lot of nothing except for the fact that I believed Ashley was in some kind of danger.
And she was here.
In Gingham Lakes.
Fact she would follow us here was pretty huge.
Seth had taken a description of both her and her brother. They were searching for them both.
While I watched.
Vigilant.
Distrustful.
Unable to shake this feeling that things were way worse than I’d wanted to admit.
I moved around them and opened the door to the lapping darkness that flooded out.
Silence palpable in the oppressive air.
We stepped through the door, and my attention moved to the end of the stairs where my dad was waiting.
WHAT HAPPENED?
Could feel his anxiety.
The angst riding through the atmosphere.
My head shook. WE DON’T KNOW MUCH ELSE EXCEPT HIS MOTHER IS HERE.
He nodded. He’d already known that minor detail since I’d filled him in as best as I could via text. His attention slanted to Frankie who cuddled my son, slowly swaying him in the comfort of her arms.
Something passed through Dad’s eyes, something that looked too close to grief, and I was wondering if he was more terrified over the idea that Ashley might take Everett away from us or if he might be a carrier of this sickness.
Hold on to Hope Page 25
