by Heather Long
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said as evenly as I could manage. Even when we’d talked to the cops and that advocate at the hospital, that fact had been stressed. Frankie hadn’t done anything wrong. She went to the fucking bathroom.
The fault?
That was Mitch’s.
And a little bit Cheryl’s. Though I’d been stewing on that one on my own. Cheryl gave her the water. Even if Mitch gave it to her, why the fuck would he need to roofie his own girlfriend? There was just something off about that. She’d been a complete wreck the one time I saw her at the hospital and we kicked all of them out. Frankie didn’t need to be the one to look after her or make it better for her. Rachel had been with her.
I didn’t like Rachel, but I trusted her a little.
Cheryl?
Not so much.
“Jake?”
Fuck, I’d gone quiet. “Sorry, Baby Girl, I was just thinking about that night.” I blew a breath out between my teeth.
“You don’t want to talk about it.” It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Okay, one.” I managed to push that word out without gritting my teeth. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Two, I don’t want you to have to talk about it. There’s a difference. It pisses me off, Baby Girl. It pisses me off every time I think about it, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to me. It just means I have to resist the urge to punch holes in the wall or go find that lousy fucking asshole and beating him bloody.”
“Oh.”
Just that. Oh.
Then. “I almost don’t have a problem with that last part.”
A laugh worked up through me, and I nearly lost the thread of the braid I was weaving into her hair. “Almost?”
“Almost,” she said. “I am confused about what I should feel. I’m upset. That’s a given. I hurt—my wrist really aches right now, and so does my cheek.”
“How’s your back?”
“Sore, but it’s not as bad.”
“You want one of your pain pills?”
“I hate taking them.”
“I know, but I hate you being in pain.”
“If I take them, then all I’m going to do is be a little sleepy and silly all day.”
“Then you can snooze on me,” I said. “You’re recovering. You’re allowed to rest.”
She was quiet for a long time, and I let her work it out while I finished the braid. When I was done, she tilted her head back to look up at me. “You’re really good at that.”
“Shh, I’m a big bad ass football player with anger management issues, don’t let anyone know I can do hair.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I know it is.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Take your pain meds? For me?” There was no mistaking the wince around her eyes or the fact that she’d gotten pale beneath her tan. The bad dreams didn’t help her rest either.
“You really think I did nothing wrong?” Those deep green eyes held all of my attention.
“I know you didn’t do anything wrong, Baby Girl. You scratched the shit out of his face for one.” Then I reached down to touch her splinted arm gently and lifted it. “And under these bandages, I know for a fact your knuckles are bruised, which tells me you pegged him with your right. You did everything right, Frankie. That fucker is the one who screwed up. He’s the asshole. He made mistakes. Not you.”
She blew out a breath. “And if you guys…”
“No,” I said firmly. “We’re not playing the what if game.” We couldn’t. We really couldn’t. I already wanted to kill the guy. Straight up. When I’d said as much to one of the cops, he’d been really clear with me. I couldn’t make threats like that. So fine, I’d keep them to myself. I still wanted to kill him. “He fucked up. He’s the bad guy. You didn’t do anything wrong. Clear?”
I hadn’t meant to growl those last words, because dammit, I was supposed to be keeping things easier for her, but they came out that way regardless.
She let out this little relieved breath and then nodded. “Clear.”
Frowning, I traced a finger over her forehead. “Have you really been worried you did something wrong?”
“A little.”
Fuck.
“I just don’t remember so much of it, and Denitra said that was normal. That it had to do with the drug in my system. But there’s this blank wall. I remember dancing. I remember having fun and laughing. Then I kind of remember needing to pee. But I was still…happy.” Her eyes took on this lost look, and I didn’t think I could hate that asshole more than I did at the moment. “Then nothing. So I don’t know what I did. I don’t know if I went with him or if I lead him on or…I don’t know.”
Okay.
“C’mere,” I said, helping her up and then tugging her into my lap. When she melted right into me and wrapped her arms around my neck, I balanced her and then touched her chin so I could look her right in her eyes. “You fought him. No matter what he did or said, or what you worry you did or said, you fought him. You scratched his face. You punched him. You were so out of it when we got there, but you fought him before. That tells me in bright, bold, neon fucking letters that you did not want to be there and you did not want anything to do with him.”
She studied me, and I knew she searched for something in my eyes. Maybe she wanted to know if I really believed it—I did. Maybe she wanted to know if she could believe it—she should, but I couldn’t force her to. I just needed her to hear me.
I could go on, but I bit my tongue. I just needed her to focus on that one point right now.
“Okay,” she said after a long moment, and I let out a breath. “I believe you.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I believe you believe that. And I really do have a mean right hook.” Then she glanced down at her wrist almost mournfully.
“Yeah you do, but how about you let me punch people for you for a while, at least until that’s healed.” And like forever. I had no problems knocking people’s teeth in.
“You’re not supposed to fight. I don’t want you getting kicked out of school.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, playing it up a little. “I’ll teach Archie and Coop how to throw a hit. They can take some heat.” Bubba damn well knew how, much to my delight.
She grinned a little, but then winced again.
“Please take a pain med? Then we can watch whatever you want. I’ll even watch one of those romantic comedies you like.”
“You like them too, Jake Benton, don’t play that game with me.”
I pressed a finger to her lips. “That’s a secret. Remember?”
Dammit, why was I mentioning memory? What the fuck was wrong with me?
“We’re alone, remember?” She countered, then nipped my finger, and my heart did a little squeeze.
“True. Fine, tease away—but take your pain med first.”
“Ugh, you’re going to be such a pain in the ass until I do it, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
And I would take great pride in it. I wanted to take care of her, and sometimes that meant being a pain in the ass.
“Fine, I’ll take it. Find me a movie, very sappy and maybe something that will make me cry.”
I made a face. “Does it have to be that bad?”
“Yes,” she insisted, then kissed my cheek. “And thank you for my hair and for listening.”
“Anytime,” I promised. I helped her balance as she stood and then watched as she headed into the kitchen to get her meds. My phone buzzed, and I checked it while she filled a glass with water. We’d learned not to rush in to do everything for her, even if we wanted to.
Mom: I hate to ask, but Louisa has tutoring until six. Blake and Becca have dance until seven. Can you pick up Louisa for me and feed her? I’ll get the girls and then meet you all at home?
Me: No problem. Need anything from the store while I’m out? I planned to work tonight and then back to F
rankie’s, but I can grab stuff if you need it.
Mom: Bread, milk, cereal, and Pop-Tarts. Strawberry and Chocolate.
Yeah, I had to get both or the girls would fight.
Me: Will do. I’m not at school today. Just a reminder in case they call.
Mom: I remembered, but thanks for the reminder. How is she?
I glanced in the kitchen where she stared in the pantry. Someone was hungry.
“Want me to make some popcorn?”
“It’s eight-fifty in the morning!”
“That’s not a no,” I said.
“Hmm… I could go for cheesecake.”
“It’s eight-fifty in the morning!” I mimicked her tone, and she stuck her tongue at me.
“Cheesecake is at least dairy, so it’s breakfast adjacent.”
I snorted. “I’ll come get it. Let me just text Mom back.”
“Tell her I said ‘hi.’”
“Will do.”
Me: She’s doing better. She says hi. Gonna eat something, then watch a movie. Hopefully she can nap.
Mom: Good. Love you.
Me: Love you 2.
Clicking the phone off, I stood. “Why are you still in the kitchen… Frankie, I said I’d get it.” She had the cheesecake balanced as she tugged it out of the fridge.
“I’m good,” she said. “Pain meds need time to kick in. So not loopy yet.”
Shaking my head, I went to help. “You are so impatient sometimes.”
“It’s cheesecake, and there’s actual leftovers.”
Like all of two pieces. We both stared at what was on the platter, then at each other. “Split them?”
“Deal.”
Not even an hour later, I sprawled with Frankie tucked into my side on the sofa, her cheek against my chest as she released the most adorable little snore. I was also stuck watching Ghost, which wasn’t a terrible movie. But I couldn’t reach the remote without moving her, so I’d watch it while she slept.
Though the idea that your best friend was the reason you got killed sucked.
Chapter Four
I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning
Coop
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked for like the third time, and the sour look she shot me said the question irked her to hear as much as it irked me to ask.
“You guys have both been working on and off all week. Yes, I want to do this. I need to get out of the apartment, but I don’t want to go in places while my face looks like this.” The bruise on her face was definitely better, though it remained angry. “And I have an appointment with the doctor this afternoon, so why not let you work and I can ride around in the car with you?”
I sighed. As plans went, it wasn’t a bad one. “If you’re sure,” I hedged, then studied her for a moment. I had the keys in the ignition, but I hadn’t turned the car on. “Frankie, you want me to go work for a couple of hours and let you have the apartment to yourself?”
Everything in me loathed the idea. I didn’t have those kind of reactions often, but just the thought of leaving her by herself made my skin crawl.
Fifteen minutes.
She had been out of our sight for fifteen minutes, and it cost her. The thought of another fifteen minutes, much less a couple of hours, made me sick. At the same time, we couldn’t smother her. It wasn’t healthy for her or us. Not that the guys wanted to hear that. The only one listening on that particular front had been Bubba, and even he’d been reticent to entertain it this soon.
“No,” she said, and the relief swamping me was pathetic. “I like hanging out with you guys, I just want to get out of the house. Archie took me for a drive on Wednesday, and it was nice. But I was a little out of it yesterday, so I didn’t bug Jake to go out.”
“Bug him next time,” I advised. He’d kick himself if he figured out she hadn’t wanted to ask him for any reason. “Trust me. And I don’t mind going to do some work, or we could, you know, just go for a drive.” The freedom of having a car was still new for me. I loved being able to take her wherever, whenever, or just getting in the car and going.
Sis had gotten used to asking me for the weirdest crap just to get me to say I’d run to the store with the car and get it. Though, she’d been pretty good this week and only asked a couple of times. She wanted to come over to see Frankie, but I wanted her to stay home. I didn’t want Frankie worrying about putting on a show for Sis or for anyone. It was bad enough she’d been doing it for us. Not all the time, but enough it was noticeable.
“But you like working, and if you get some hours in today, you won’t have to work as much this weekend.”
Suspicion itched through me. “Frankie?”
She shot me a sideways glance. “Hmm?”
“Are you feeling guilty because you’re not working this week?” Marsha had been clear that she needed to take as much time as necessary. I’d gone in and spoken to her myself. I hadn’t wanted to tell her over the phone, and I didn’t want Frankie to have to deal with it. When Frankie called her on Tuesday, Marsha hadn’t told her I’d clued her in. She’d just told Frankie to take a couple of weeks and to call her when she was ready to go back to work.
“I’m feeling guilty for a lot of stuff.” She sucked at her bottom lip, then winced. The cut there was better, but it kept getting irritated because she’d gnaw at it. The stitches in her cheek were dissolvable, or so they’d said, and they seemed better, even if the bruise still managed to look bad.
“You know you don’t have anything to feel guilty for, right?” That was important.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t,” she said. “I’m pretty sure Archie paid my rent. I know he paid to have the locks changed. Jeremy is doing my laundry. You guys are taking care of the cats and the apartment. All of you have shopped, and your moms sent food.”
Okay. I got it. “You feel like you’re taking advantage?”
“I kind of am.”
“No,” I informed her, opening up the app on my phone and checking to see how busy it was. It was a little before lunchtime, which could be good. I hadn’t worked during the day during the week, so this would be different. “You’re not.”
“Coop…”
I backed the car out and shook my head. “Frankie, you can make up all the lists you want. No one feels an ounce of pressure to do what we’re doing. First, you’re the last one to demand this. You tend to try and do everything yourself. Second, we want to do this. You look after us, we look after you.” Then thinking about it, I added, “We look after each other, too.”
“Like when Archie was in the hospital.” She grimaced and the guilt thickened in her voice.
“Yeah,” I said, reaching over to cover her left hand with mine. “Like then. Like when Jake and Bubba were trying out for football. Or when we got drunk for the first time.”
That pulled a laugh out of her. “Oh my god, I don’t want to think about that.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” I admitted in a sad, sad tone
“No,” she agreed. “It was not. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much puke in my life.”
“And yet, you still kiss us.” Her groan was worth the disgusting tease. “But that’s my point, we help each other. We take care of each other. So don’t feel guilty, okay?”
She sighed, then squeezed my hand. A bell sounded on the phone, and I hit accept on whatever order I got and then the phone gave me directions to the restaurant.
“That’s it?” Curiosity filtered through the guilt and lightened her tone.
“Yep, not sexy, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I just log on and when orders are available, it offers them, I take it and then follow the directions. It’s pretty simple. Mostly driving and waiting.”
“Huh.”
“Feeling envious about my way cooler job?”
Her snort lifted my spirits. “You don’t have to wear a uniform.”
“That is definitely a plus,” I admitted.
“And you
don’t have customers running you everywhere. Well, I guess you do but…”
“But mostly one at a time.” As though to make me a liar, the app offered me a second delivery from the same place. It also gave a bonus for that, so hell yes, I clicked on it. “Except I’ll get two from this place then we deliver them both, and I’ll pick up whatever comes next.”
“Huh.”
The grunt made me curious, but she didn’t add to it. Instead, she curled her legs up to sit cross-legged in the seat. There were flipflops in the well, but she was in shorts—my old boxers, and yes, I definitely appreciated that she wore those for sleep shorts—a t-shirt and an unzipped hoodie. I cranked the A/C up in the car because the sun shining in made it hotter in there.
Her hair was still braided from the day before. The sunglasses hid her eyes though, and I kept glancing over at her.
“I’m okay, Coop,” she promised. “I’m just thinking.”
“Okay.” I let it go, since sometimes being quiet was the best we could do. “Let me know if that changes or you need anything, okay?”
“Deal.”
For the next couple of hours, we listened to music as I drove from restaurant to house or business, picking up and dropping off. Once I had the first two orders, they kept flowing in, and fortunately, it turned out to be a day that when I showed up, the food was ready rather than having to wait around.
Frankie watched with interest now and then, once she seemed like she’d gone to sleep, so I left her alone. But when one of my last stops turned out to be a barbecue place, her stomach growled so loud it echoed in the car.
“And I think on that note,” I informed her. “This will be my last delivery, and we’ll grab lunch on the way back.”
“I can go a little longer,” she insisted. But really? This was Frankie. She could redefine hangry if she went too long when she was hungry. She’d also not had any pain meds today, and the lines around her mouth was tight. “You’ve been really busy and getting good tips.”
“And I’m happy with the fifty I’ve made so far,” I told her. “I can afford to grab us some lunch.”
