by Kay Lyons
Grayson knew he would've fallen in love with her in that moment… if he wasn't already.
Chapter 12
Grayson rolled over in bed and glared at the alarm. Three fifty-eight. It was Thanksgiving Day and they were due at his aunt and uncle's house at noon. Frankie had agreed to join his family for their meal, but Grayson refused to overthink the fact that it was the colonel who had invited Grayson and Christopher to join the Cohens for dinner at six and not his stubbornly silent girlfriend.
Frankie was obviously holding back and he understood her reservations, but his goal of wearing down her defenses meant discovering unusual ways of going about it. She wasn't a normal woman and he loved that about her. But it also made breaking through more difficult.
The buzzer blared and he groaned. Sleeping in seemed like a really good thing. He was getting too old for this, but there was something to be said for leading by example, and like the colonel had said, it was a great way of spending quality time with Christopher.
Grayson smashed the button to silence it and rolled upright, sliding his feet into shoes he'd left out the night before while grabbing the shirt and shorts from the end of the bed. Seconds later he opened the door to find Christopher standing outside, mid-stretch.
"About time. I thought I was going to have to find the pots."
Grayson smirked and did a few stretches of his own. "You're getting into this."
Christopher shrugged but the move wasn't as casual as his son tried to make it seem.
"I'm doing better in gym class. The coach has said a few things."
"The girls at school are probably noticing, too," Grayson added, trying to boost the kid's ego.
"Yeah. Kinda makes up for Cat dumping me."
They headed downstairs and Grayson locked up behind them. "You ever going to tell me what happened?" Frankie wasn't there in the driveway and Grayson frowned. Should he text her? Sleep was a rare commodity for her, and he didn’t want to wake her by texting if her phone wasn’t on Do Not Disturb.
"She's one of those girls."
"What do you mean?"
Christopher shrugged and broke into a slow jog and Grayson fell into step beside him.
"She's… I don't know. It was stupid. Me bashing the machine at the pier house because of her. She'd gotten all of those presents at her party, but when she saw the prize in the machine, she had to have it, too, and said she'd… do stuff with whoever got it for her."
"Do stuff? She was your girlfriend."
"Supposed to be, but then the other guys there started trying to get it and… It was stupid."
Grayson whistled. How old was that girl to be behaving like that? "That's a tough lesson to learn, bub. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Me, too. But I don't want to be with someone like that."
“Good. You deserve to be with someone who respects and honors what’s between you. And you have plenty of time to meet a girl who will.”
They jogged for a ways in silence.
"I know who they were now. Mom's… friends."
Grayson felt like someone had sucker-punched him. He struggled to breathe and keep pace at the announcement, but given the long-overdue talk, he found himself thankful Frankie wasn't there.
"I didn't at first. They'd play ball with me sometimes and she said… they came to look out for us because you were gone. That's why they were always around."
Grayson felt Christopher's embarrassment in talking about his mother's behavior. He kept his head straight, eyes on the road in front of them. One step in front of the other.
"I hated you when I realized she was… I thought you made her do that. I mean, if you'd have come home…"
"Chris—"
"But I get it now. Guess I can thank Cat for that. Mom…" Christopher's voice broke and thickened. "You took care of us even though you weren’t around. She didn't have to do what she did with all those men."
All those men? Just how many were there?
Don’t go there.
"All that matters now is that you know your mother loved you. What she did is in the past." It took a lot to say the words without the bitterness he'd felt creeping in, but now that he and Frankie were building a relationship, it was easier than it had been before.
"Frankie said I should ask you about the bike. Why you love it so much."
Silence followed the words, and it took Grayson six strides to get himself together enough to speak. Frankie… The woman had an insight he only dreamed of. If there was ever an appropriate time for Christopher to hear that story, it was now. "I got the bike from my dad. He died of cancer when you were just a baby."
"I don't remember him much."
"I know. It was a long time ago."
"So that's it? It was your dad's?"
"No. That's not it. I met the man I called my dad when I was eight years old."
Chris stopped running and Grayson slowed, turning to face his son on the road.
"You mean Grandpa wasn't—"
Grayson shook his head. "My biological father ran out on my mom and me. Up until then I'd spent my life watching him hit and abuse her. Grandpa was one of the cops who'd come to the house that last time. He'd check up on us every now and again, see how we were doing, and about a year or so later, they got married. He raised me, taught me integrity, honor, respect. Everything."
"Did you always know I wasn't yours?"
Grayson nodded. "Your mother was pretty far along before we got together. I was overseas when she conceived, but I'm on your birth certificate. We agreed that we'd tell you one day, but we thought it might be best to wait until you were older."
"I heard people talking at the funeral. I felt stupid."
He could only imagine how that had made Christopher feel, and Grayson kicked himself for not realizing the source sooner. "I'm sorry. The choice wasn’t made to hurt you, Chris, but for us to be father and son."
Christopher inhaled and started walking away, then jogging. Grayson moved to catch up.
"I'm sorry I took the part. I shouldn't have stolen it."
"You're not the same person now you were then. You've changed a lot since that happened. I see that. I hope you see that, too."
"I do. I feel… different."
"Good. And apology accepted." Grayson saw the impact of his words on Chris, how his son lifted his chin a little higher, his expression a little more confident.
"Frankie's nice."
"I agree."
"She's a pain when she's in boot-camp mode though."
Grayson laughed and nodded. "She's one of a kind, that's for sure."
"What happened to her?"
Grayson turned his head toward his son. "What do you mean?"
"The scars on her belly?"
"I… didn't know she had scars."
"Oh.” Christopher looked uncomfortable. “Um… we were doing stretches and her shirt pulled up. I looked… but I didn't mean to,” he added quickly. “But that's when I saw them."
Grayson kept running, back to forcibly putting one foot in front of the other even though he wanted to get to Frankie's as fast as possible to find out what had happened. He'd seen her in a bathing suit once in California when a group of them had gone to the beach for the day. She'd had no scars then. "You didn't mention them? She didn't?"
"No. I pretended I didn't see them. I hate that she got hurt, though. They looked painful. You, um, want to sprint?"
That was all the warning Grayson got before Christopher took off and shot ahead of him. He had speed, and his endurance had really grown. Frankie was right, track or cross country would be a good fit for the kid.
Grayson picked up speed but his heart, his mind weren't on running.
Where had she gotten the scars?
One thing he knew for certain—he would find out. But how was he going to bring it up without her PTSD surfacing as well?
Chapter 13
Thanksgiving Day flew by with too much food and a strange tension in Grayson that Frankie couldn'
t place. She was late getting to his aunt and uncle's house for lunch because the first time she'd tried browning the marshmallows atop her sweet potato casserole, she'd burnt them instead. The second time was the charm—after doing a lot of repair work and a secret taste test to make sure nothing tasted charred. Cooking? Not her forte. But give her something mechanical and she could kick serious butt.
Grayson had tried to get her alone a few times, but something about his expression left her retreating and making excuses. Today wasn't the day to fight, and she had a feeling whatever it was on his mind would end up with them there.
Dinner at her parents' house had been even more tense because of London. Her sister had glared at her from across the table, even though Frankie had told London their father was the one responsible for him being there.
Not that she minded Grayson being there. It was actually nice sitting beside him and sharing a meal with her family. Nice to see him and Christopher joking and laughing with her father. It was only when he glanced at her with that look she couldn't decipher that she got nervous.
She'd made an excuse and driven herself to both meals because she wasn't prepared to go public with their couple status, especially when there was still an important conversation she needed to have with Grayson. Things were getting more and more serious by the day, the kissing hotter and hotter, and she knew they'd far surpassed the point where full disclosure should've occurred.
This time, however, she was the one keeping secrets. But to what end? If she told him and it changed things, well…
Grayson had asked to talk to her when he'd walked her to her Jeep, but she'd put him off with yet another excuse. She was exhausted, truth be told, and to have the conversation she needed to have meant doing so after a decent night's sleep. Maybe she should take the meds the doctor had prescribed, just once, to see if they helped her sleep an entire night? She’d stressed the Thanksgiving festivities to the point of not sleeping and then finally slept so deeply she’d slept through her alarm and boot camp.
Tank sank down on his haunches with a grumble, earning her attention. "Seriously? No, no, no. I'm not doing it tonight. I refuse to spoon-feed my war-hero dog. You need to get over yourself."
Tank lowered himself to the floor in front of his bowl but didn't take a bite. He looked at her with his big brown eyes and gave such a pitiful whine she felt herself wavering. "Eat. Now. Or I'll put you in boot camp and give those bolts and pins of yours a workout."
A knock sounded at her door, and she hesitated a long moment before shoving herself off the couch. She'd told Grayson she was tired and turning in early. Surely he wouldn't show up and—
"Frankie, open up."
Frankie swung the door wide to see London—and the rest of her sisters standing shoulder to shoulder. Oh, so not good. "Uh, hello?"
London was the first to break ranks and, after a quick glance toward Frankie's flip-flopped feet, grabbed her apartment keys from the bowl where they were kept before taking Frankie's hand.
"Let's go."
"Go? Where?"
"We know you got the text to meet us but you didn't show."
"My DND is on." She might have turned on Do Not Disturb after seeing the text, but they didn’t need to know that.
"You're not getting out of this," London said. "We're doing an intervention."
"An inter— Excuse me?"
"You've avoided us for weeks," Ireland stated, giving Frankie a baleful stare.
Tank pressed against her leg and she automatically reached down to stroke his head. "I'm busy. I do have a life and a business to run, you know."
"And a love life apparently. One involving a liar and a cheater," London said softly.
Frankie gasped. "You promised you wouldn't—"
"You need a sounding board and we're it," London said. "Or have you forgotten?"
She glared at London and wished they were kids again when she could sit on Londy and pull her hair. "You said I needed to know the whole story."
"For closure, yes. I didn't tell you to start things up again with someone known for lying to you and cheating on his wife."
"We didn't cheat. We didn't even kiss! I can't believe you told them."
"Don't blame Londy," Ireland said. "Grayson's obviously got Daddy on his side since he invited Grayson to our family dinner, but Daddy doesn't know your history with Grayson, does he?"
"Or that Grayson's the reason you almost got yourself killed," Holland added.
"Uh, guys," Carolina said.
"You have no business intruding into—"
"Guys?"
"Something that's—"
"Of course it's our business. You're our business."
"Guys?"
Everyone was talking at once but stopped at Carolina's urgent tone. Her sisters turned to look down the hallway, and a hard knot formed in Frankie's stomach.
"Am I interrupting?" Grayson asked from the hallway.
Oh, no. This was not how she wanted things to go down.
Frankie moved toward the door the same time that Grayson stepped behind her sisters, standing head and shoulders above them. "Grayson… hi."
Grayson's gaze didn't budge from hers, pain and wariness etched on his handsome features so deeply it rolled off of him.
"What does she mean I almost got you killed?"
Frankie cringed and sucked in a sharp breath. "You didn't."
"Liar."
"Londy, so help me, I will knock you out if you don't shut your—"
"Ladies, would you excuse us? Frankie and I need to talk."
Carolina crossed her arms over her front and glared at him.
"We're not going anywhere. You've hurt her enough."
Frankie closed her eyes and fisted her hands, thinking it really wouldn't be bad to be an only child. "Caro, leave. Now. All of you need to leave," she said to her sisters.
"No. We're not going anywhere," London said. "You—"
"Fine. Then I'll leave," she said, plowing through the wall of sisters to reach Grayson.
Without a word, Grayson handed the bag of food in his hand to Holland and fell into step beside her.
Frankie didn't stop walking until she'd stalked from the complex all the way to the beach. The sand was cold on her feet but it didn't matter. None of it mattered now. She was going to spend the rest of her life in prison for murder. What was the count for killing four sisters?
"Start talking."
She fisted her hands and stopped so fast sand flew up in the air. "You didn't almost get me killed."
"Where did the scars come from?"
She swung to face him. "What do you— I-I mean, how do you know about them?" She'd been careful. In all of the kissing and hand wandering, she'd never let him touch her under her clothes in case he felt them and asked questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
"Christopher said he saw them one day. He asked me about them. What they're from. I had to admit I didn't know."
She turned away from him to face the surf, and he gently grasped her arm, tugging her around until she had no choice but to face him. "It happened in Kabul," she said simply. "After we— After I found out you were married, a buddy got sick and I volunteered to cover for him."
Grayson sucked in a breath, his eyes softening as awareness dawned. Just as quickly, a look of horror flashed.
"The bomb. Your PTSD. That's where it— Frankie."
He reached down and tugged at her sweatshirt, and she slapped his hands away. "Stop it."
"Let me see."
"It's too dark and they're not important."
"Not impor— How bad was it? Your injuries? How bad?"
She tucked her chin to her chest and was glad they'd left the bright lights of her apartment. Here in the dark, on the beach, she had some privacy. "Internal bleeding, d-damage."
"What kind of damage?"
This. This was what she needed to tell him. Didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to have to admit, even to herself. "When I woke up they said I can't… I
can't have kids now. I-I had to have a full hysterectomy."
Frankie felt his withdrawal before she experienced it. Grayson let go, took a step back. Two. He lifted his hands to his head and raked them over the top. "Grayson, it's not your fault."
"Of course it is."
"No, it's not. Muldoon was sick. Someone had to go."
"But you volunteered because of me. You almost died because of me!"
"No, I… I was a soldier. Someone had to take the duty and I—"
"I have loved and cared for two women, Frankie. Two. And I have managed to hurt both of them. How can you stand there and not want me dead after what I took from you?"
"You love me?"
A sound left him, carried away on the wind.
She stepped toward him, but at the same time, he swung away from her, giving her his back. "Grayson, it's not your fault. What will it take to convince you?"
"You can't."
"So that's it? You find me again, tell me you love me, and now you're done?"
He'd turned as though to walk back toward the complex but stopped, his head hanging low.
"I suppose I am.”
“Grayson—”
“Your sisters are right, Frankie. I've taken enough of your life from you."
Frankie stood there and watched as Grayson stalked away. When she couldn't see him anymore, she sank to the sand, unable to bear the thought of going back inside to face the sister-fest waiting for her with all of their looks and I-told-you-so's.
The scent of Holland's perfume reached Frankie before she saw or heard them. Frankie closed her eyes, feeling them surround her one by one.
"Frankie?"
London. Frankie lifted her head and glared at her twin. "Happy now? He’s gone."
"Frankie, that's not fair," Ireland said softly. "London's worried about you. We're all worried about you."
"Yeah, well, you don't need to worry anymore. Grayson blames himself. Even though," she said, glaring at London, "it wasn't his fault. Y'all always talk about divine plans and fate and all that, but apparently you don't listen to yourself."
"What do you mean?" Carolina said.
"I mean, if I'm meant to die or have kids or not have kids, it's going to happen because it's bigger than us, right? So… what about that?" A rough laugh left her. "I've forgiven Grayson. We were… It was good. He told me loved me."
