by Kay Lyons
"I'm sorry," he said to London.
"Really, kid? That's the best you can do?"
The teen fisted his hands and inhaled.
"I'm sorry I tried to steal your stuff. It was wrong. I should've paid for it and… I won't do it again."
"Now that's an apology," Frankie told him, nodding in approval.
"Apology accepted," London said. "What's your name?"
Another long pause. Frankie could practically see the kid trying to quickly think up a fake one.
"Joey."
Frankie narrowed her gaze on him and really hoped the kid surprised her by showing up.
"Well, Joey, make sure it's okay with your parents first, but be here immediately after school tomorrow. Don't be late."
"It's just me and my dad. He won't care. He'll be happy to be rid of me."
Frankie wasn't sure what to make of that comment, but if true, it could explain some things. "Make sure it's okay, anyway," she ordered. The last thing London needed was an irate helicopter parent breathing down her neck when they'd tried to help the kid by not calling the police.
"Can I go now?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
Frankie and London watched as Joey ducked out the door as fast as he was able to get by her.
"Should I follow him?" Frankie asked, though the question was more rhetorical.
"No. Let him be. You brought him down a notch or two. Maybe the experience of getting caught will sway any future plans to do it again."
Frankie traced London's steps back to the counter. Her sister placed Joey's selection in a bag for safekeeping and hung the bag on the door leading to London's apartment upstairs. No doubt so she could wrap and make it pretty like she'd promised. London was such a softie.
"Do you think he'll show up tomorrow?"
Frankie shrugged. "Maybe. It's a toss-up. But if you run out of things for him to do, I'm sure I can come up with a few odd jobs. I can’t have him actually working in the garage due to labor laws, but between taking out the trash and cleaning the floors and bathrooms, he'd be busy."
"Well, Sammy'll certainly be happy he won't have to pitch in here tomorrow. Ireland mentioned Dominic spent the week in Atlanta, so they'll want to spend as much time as they can with him this weekend."
Sammy was kept very busy working little odd jobs between the entirety of family-owned businesses, and as such it kept him—mostly—out of trouble. Summer months were always harder, but with an entire family full of people willing to watch Sammy, however, the kid couldn't get away with too awfully much. Unlike Joey, from the sounds of it.
"Just keep him away from the goods," Frankie said with a tilt of her head toward that side of the room. "And the cash register." She settled in on a stool at the bar. Now that the excitement of the petty thief was gone, London talked about her plans for Ireland's upcoming engagement party. While her sister went on and on about food options and decorations, Frankie's mind drifted.
"Helllllo?"
Frankie blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Uh-huh. By the way, don't think I didn't catch you acting weird when you first got here. You looked like you'd seen a ghost when you came in. I was too busy with orders to corner you then, but now? Spill."
Shoved back to the event leading up to her making an impromptu coffee run and twin shrink session in the first place, Frankie shuddered at her now cold coffee and silently begged for a fresh cup.
"Fine. Hand it over. And talk. What happened?"
"It's nothing." It had to be nothing. Because it couldn't happen again.
Right?
"That may work with the other sisters but they don't have my twinsie-senses. You might as well tell me what's going on because you're not leaving until you do."
Frankie tapped her fingers against the countertop, wondering how—where—to even begin when the telling spanned… continents.
"It's that big of a thing? Frankie, don't keep me in suspense."
"It's not… It's just… It's weird."
"Go on."
Frankie inhaled and met her twin's gaze. "Okay, fine. But if you laugh at me or make some kind of snarky comment, remember I've been trained to kill."
London cocked an eyebrow high. "Tell me before I kill you."
"Fine. But first answer something."
"Anything."
"Do you believe in fate?"
Chapter 2
London stared at Frankie like she had two heads.
"Fate? Seriously?"
Frankie sat back in the barstool and glared at her sister. "Do you want me to tell you or not?"
"I do! I totally do. I'm sorry," she said, waving a hand in front of her face like she waved away an irritating fly. "It's just a surprise to hear that question coming from you."
"Forget it."
"No, don't you dare. You know what I mean. Of all of us, you're the last one to ever be girly-romantic about such things."
"Fine. Don't call it fate. What about coincidence? Like, hard-core coincidence. Do you believe in that?"
London took hold of her long braid and whipped it over her shoulder like she tossed back a cape.
"I believe there is a plan for each of us and things have a way of happening when they're supposed to, so, yeah, I do. Why are you asking? Where is this coming from?"
"It's… Something weird happened today.
"And…?"
London gave Frankie a fresh cup of brew and then placed her elbows on the counter, leaning forward toward Frankie and giving her all of her attention.
"I thought… I thought I saw someone I know—knew."
"How does that equate to… fate? Come on, either fill me in or I'll call the sisterhood, because I have to know where this is going."
Calling the remaining three sisters meant heading down to the beach to their special place by the dream catcher mailbox and explaining this to all of them. Not something she wanted to do. It was hard enough explaining this to her twin. "No meeting. And this stays between us."
London nodded immediately but her frown revealed her concern.
"Okay. But for the love of coffee, just hurry up and tell me already."
Frankie smiled at her sister's words, but just as quickly, the smile faded and she searched for the right way to tell the story. "When I enlisted in the Marines, I met this guy. And ever since then, everywhere I go, eventually, we… wind up finding each other."
"Like he's stalking you?"
Frankie shook her head, hands gripping the warm coffee mug tight so London wouldn't realize how badly they shook. Was she about to see him again? "No. Nothing like that. It's like… life just keeps bringing us back together."
"Thus the question of fate."
Once more she nodded. "I don't even know if it was him, but given our history… It rattled me."
"Why? What happened between you? Do you want it to be him?"
"No." She shook her head to emphasize the word and hated herself for the fear surging to the surface. The anger.
The heartbreak.
"That was an awfully quick response, but it wasn't all that convincing. Are you sure?"
Frankie opened her mouth to confirm her words but nothing would form. Maybe because, if she were honest, the real reason was because she didn't know if she could stand seeing him again. There came a point in life when a person couldn't handle any more pain. "Just forget it. I have to go. I need to head to the garage."
"Frankie… stop. Talk to me."
"I don't know what to say."
"How did you meet? I know you said the Marines, but where? What happened between the two of you that's got you so… freaked out?"
Basics. Yeah, she could do basic questions. And then, maybe, more. "I met him for the first time in boot camp. He was stationed there. And since it was boot camp and I was just trying to survive, it wasn't a big deal. We said hello, ran into each other a few times around the base, and that was it. Then two years into my stint, I turned the c
orner when I was stationed in California, and there he was again."
"And?"
"And we talked. Flirted a little. Same thing happened in Germany. Then I was sent to Japan."
"I get the sense that's not the end of it. Did you email? Text?"
"No. Maybe I should've known something was up then because he didn't ask for my info."
"You weren't in Japan long."
"No. About a year. Then they sent me to Kabul. And two months later, there he was."
"Wow."
"I know. It's like there's some kind of magnet that keeps pulling us to the same places."
"And there's no way he could have manipulated the circumstances leading up to all of those meetings?"
"No. He didn't have the rank to do that. And even if he did, it wasn't… like that."
"But you think the guy you saw is him?"
Frankie shrugged. "Given the number of times it's happened in the past, maybe. Wouldn't you?"
"I suppose. Even if he couldn't have pulled strings to find you in the past, that doesn't mean he didn't search for you online and track you down."
"He hasn't sought me out, Londy."
"Then why does the possible sight of him have you shaking in your boots? Frankie, if you like this guy, barring the obvious stalker scenario, what's the problem with seeing him again? What are you not saying?"
The answers to those questions weren't basic at all. Frankie stared into her cup, unable to find the words.
"Oh, Frankie, is this about your injuries? That won't matter to him. Not if he cares for you, if he's the one for you and all of the coincidences are part of something bigger. Right?"
Heat prickled her eyes and Frankie blinked hard to relieve the pressure. "I don't think your 'something bigger' works in this scenario."
"Why do you say that?"
Frankie felt as though the duct tape holding her heart together ripped off in painful yanks. "Because… after we kept meeting up and hanging out, and after we were able to actually spend quality time together in Kabul and I fell in love with him, I… found out he was married."
London's hands surrounded Frankie's wrists, and when she was finally able to meet her twin's gaze, she saw the love she knew would be there, but also anger.
"Married men should have to have brands on their freaking foreheads or something."
"Some women wouldn't care."
"But good women do and God doesn't send any woman someone else's husband. You wouldn't have allowed yourself to get close to a married man had you known. I'm sure of that."
Frankie nodded because it was true. She'd had no idea, and the sight of a ring was an automatic hands-off to her. What had started off as simple conversations over the way they kept running into each other had turned into evenings spent playing pool or darts or just talking over a drink with friends. The first few meet-ups hadn't lasted long enough nor had she known him well enough to have been given such personal information being that they were purely random, but later… when they met up again in Kabul… In all the hours and all the talking, he'd never mentioned having a wife. "We didn't do anything. We… We almost kissed… It would've been our first kiss, but then he pulled away and said he had to tell me something. I have to give him credit for that. I'm grateful that he stopped, at least, but—"
"But it was too late because you'd already fallen for him."
Frankie nodded, hard as it was to admit.
"What happened when he told you?"
"I flipped. Like, off the rails flipped. I'm not stupid and he could've told me earlier. Like you said, I wouldn't have let myself get close to him at all had I known he was married."
"So what did he say?"
Wry laughter emerged from her chest. "He said it was 'complicated' and something about getting a divorce, but at that point I didn't care anymore. For all I knew, he was lying about that, too. I told him to get lost, which was easy since he was heading back to the States the next day anyway. That's… when I volunteered to cover Muldoon."
"You mean it's his fault you were almost killed? Oh, I hope it is him so I can—"
"Londy, I didn't want to be there when Grayson left."
"That doesn't matter."
"It does. I volunteered."
"And barely lived to tell the tale."
"Even if Grayson hadn't been leaving… I would've covered for Muldoon anyway. Just to get some distance. I needed the head space after coming so close to… being the other woman." There was no excuse for cheating. Ever. And any woman who actively pursued a man knowing he was married?
Not someone she'd ever allow herself to be.
"You really were in love with him, weren't you?"
Frankie looked into the coffee mug again because she couldn't hold London's gaze. Being one of five sisters wasn't easy. Being the most athletic, rough-and-tumble tomboy of the bunch also meant being considered the toughest, physically and emotionally, and made conversations like this one all the harder to have. In love with him? It was like saying there was a drop of water in the ocean. "Yeah."
Men tended to steer clear of strong women, and she was strong, no doubt about it. But when she'd finally let the barriers down and allowed herself to fall…
Grayson had shattered her with his announcement. And while she knew she wasn't the only woman to ever have her heart broken, it had certainly seemed like she was, and she felt all the more foolish because of it.
Volunteering to cover Muldoon gave her purpose and forced her to focus on something other than the heartbreak. Then again, once the IED blew, everything hurt. She'd never forget that kind of pain. Or the emotional devastation that came afterward when she was lucid enough to learn the full extent of the damage done to her by the blast.
"Frankie?"
"I can't see him again, Londy. It's impossible for fate or th-the plan you're talking about to put us together again, right? Because if that's the case, it's cruel."
London stared at her but didn't offer any encouragement to the contrary. Maybe because London knew, in the moment, the words would be useless. "I have to go. Can I get one of those to go?"
"Of course." London hurried to grab a coffeepot and fill the request. "Listen…"
"I'm okay. I just got spooked for a second because I’m so tired, that's all. What are the odds, right? No big deal."
London set the to-go cup in front of her and then grasped Frankie's hand in hers.
"Right. And if the guy you saw is him? You've got this. Girl, you survived war. You can handle a man. Especially one who has already lied to you."
Chapter 3
Grayson Carter opened the door of their house, tucked back on the southern corner of the island on a quiet street near Ft. Fisher, before his stepson's foot hit the top tread of the stairs. "Where have you been?"
"Out."
"For four hours? Out where? Doing what?"
"Geez."
Grayson followed Christopher to the kitchen and watched as the boy dumped his book bag on the floor by the island on his way to the fridge. "Chris, where did you go after school? Aunt Mary said you didn't show up like you were supposed to."
"Because I had stuff to do."
When Grayson glared at him, Christopher rolled his eyes.
"I rode my bike to some stores to look for something for Cat's birthday. It took a while."
"You didn't answer calls or texts. We've talked about this."
"My phone went dead. What's to eat? I'm hungry."
Grayson battled his temper and reminded himself to be patient. Christopher had been through a lot and it would take time to adjust. "I thought I'd order something. Did you find a present for your friend?"
Christopher still had his head buried in the fridge.
"Yeah, maybe. I don't know yet."
"I'm sure she'll like whatever you get her."
Chris released a grunt and pulled out some string cheese.
"What do you want for dinner? I held off because you weren't home and I'm really not in the mood to cook.
Pizza?"
"Yeah. Can we get pineapple, like Mom always did?"
"Sure." Pineapple could be picked off, after all, and battles had to be picked just as carefully. "Get to work on cleaning up your room and I'll place the order."
"But I just got home."
"You were supposed to do it two days ago and now you can't see the floor. Clean your room or you won't be going to your friend's birthday party this weekend."
Christopher grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and slammed the door. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and headed toward the hallway leading to the stairs.
"Wait," Gray said, "how are you paying for this present?"
"I got it covered."
"Where'd you get the money?"
"Birthdays and stuff. The usual."
"You told me you’d spent all of your cash the last time you asked me for some."
"I forgot about some I'd stashed."
Gray bit back a comment and grabbed his cell from where he'd set it earlier. Pizza. He needed to focus on pizza. Disgusting, pineapple-laden pizza. Not on Chris’s questionable behavior and memory.
Had he been as evasive at that age?
Gray finally placed the order and hoped for the best. He had the makings for a salad. Christopher would protest the need for it, but Grayson would do anything to prolong the meal and get a chance to talk. Maybe he could come up with a dessert of some kind. The kid used to love ice cream. Was that still the case? Ever since Grayson had left the military to be a full-time father, the kid had fought him at every turn. Up was down, green was blue, and nothing he ever said or did was right.
The doorbell rang and he frowned, glancing at his cell to check the time. That couldn't be the pizza, could it?
"I got it," Christopher called. The kid scrambled down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him.
Grayson got up and hurried toward the door, where Christopher stood with a young girl who looked at Gray like he had two heads. "Who's this?"
"Cat, my girlfriend. We're going to go for a walk to the pier."
"Christopher, I just ordered pizza. And you have a room to clean."
Christopher practically shoved the girl out the door, and short of grabbing the kid and forcing him back into the house, Grayson was at a loss.
