by Casey, L. A.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Stupid Risk, you are, because I’d have told you why I don’t know Blood Oath’s songs if you had asked me. I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose, I just didn’t know how to tell you!”
“Then t-tell me.” He stared me down. “Tell. Me. Frankie.”
“I don’t know any of your band’s songs, because I’ve never listened to them out of choice.” I trembled. “I don’t listen to your songs because your voice breaks me. D’you understand that? It breaks me!”
Risk struggled to remain upright, but his eyes never left mine. Not once.
“What?”
“You heard me,” I shouted. “I couldn’t hear you sing because I couldn’t cope with how much I missed and hurt for you. Not because I hated you. I never hated you. I’ve loved you since I was fifteen, you callous bastard! You’re my night and day!”
Tears poured from my eyes and I tried my best to quickly wipe them away. I hated that I was crying in front of May, Hayes, Summer and Angel. Mine and Risk’s drama shouldn’t have to be put on their shoulders but everywhere he was, they weren’t far away from him.
“I wear my earphones everywhere I go because, like a fool, I’m weak for you.” I hiccupped. “It’s pointless to try and block you because I hear you every night in my dreams. You’re haunting me and you have the nerve to tell me I don’t know your songs because I’ve erased you? Risk, erasing you would mean erasing myself.”
He looked like he was struggling to breathe and I knew all too well how that felt.
“I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have left my mum. I shouldn’t have agreed to being friends with you. I shouldn’t have had sex with you. I shouldn’t have let you walk back into my life.” I exhaled a painful breath. “Nothing has changed, we’re still worlds apart from each other and I think we always will be. You’re not good for me and I’m definitely not good for you. We can’t do this. We were stupid to think that we could try to be something. We can’t be anything.”
“Frankie, just . . . just wait. I can’t think.”
“Goodbye, Risk.” I backed towards the door of the dressing room. “Keep chasin’, rock star.”
When I turned and fled the room, Risk screamed my name and the raw pain I heard in his voice hit me like a tonne of bricks but I didn’t stop running. I needed to get away, I needed space, I needed to think . . . I needed to go home to Southwold and put Risk and this too-big-for-me world out of my mind. It was time I closed Risk’s chapter in my life.
The problem was . . . I didn’t know how to do that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRANKIE
Nine years ago . . .
My entire life had changed in seven days.
My every waking hour was consumed by my mum. A week after her accident I had maybe seen Risk for a total of ten hours because whenever I got home, I usually went straight to bed. Most nights Risk would be in the studio until late so when he came home, I was already asleep. When I woke up for my morning shift at Mary Well’s diner, he would already be gone to work.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever, just until my mum was in a routine and could move around easier, but I missed my boyfriend and I knew he missed me too. I wanted to spend some time with him so I left Mum and Dr O’Rourke’s home – she had just moved in with him so he could keep a constant eye on her – just after six in the evening, exactly one week after her illness was revealed to me, and I walked the twenty minutes to Cumberland Road, where May lived. It was pitch black outside, lightly raining and freezing.
I didn’t tell Risk I was stopping by, I wanted to surprise him.
When I reached May’s home, it suddenly began to pour from the sky. I hurried into the garden and up to the studio next to the house and silently let myself in since I knew the door’s key code. The studio wasn’t huge, but the lads made the space work by only using whatever instruments they needed at the current moment.
They hung nearly everything else on the walls to keep them out of the way. It would have been easy for them to find a studio in a big town not far away and rent some hours of studio time, but that was money the band didn’t have. All of their money went on upgrading their third-hand instruments to decent second-hand ones. It was a struggle, but a band was only as good as their instruments and because Blood Oath were virtually unknown, they needed to work hard to get better equipment to improve their sound.
I heard Risk’s voice as I closed the door behind me and, from the tone, he didn’t sound too pleased.
“You’re not listening to us,” Hayes sighed. “We have to leave in two days and you still haven’t told her. Telling her is the right thing to do.”
“He’s right, Risk,” May grumbled. “Look, I know you think you’re doing the right thing but the last thing Frankie needs right now is another massive surprise.”
I remained behind the stack of amplifiers that were piled up near the door. I had no idea what conversation I had walked in on, but it had something to do with me. The familiar sensation of dread that settled in the pit of my stomach when Dr O’Rourke told me my mum was injured and sick reared its ugly head and smirked at me.
“Both of you have no clue what you’re talking about,” Risk snapped at his friends. “Her mum almost died in a car accident and she found out in the same hour that she has Alzheimer’s too. Telling her that the band got offered a record deal now is not the right time.”
“But she’ll be happier than anyone on this planet for us,” May argued. “Frankie is our number one fan. She is the first Sinner, she loves us.”
“Being signed isn’t what my issue is, mate,” Risk grunted. “That isn’t the hard part.”
“Then what is?”
“Moving country,” Hayes answered May. “He doesn’t know how to tell her that.”
I tried to understand what I was hearing, but I couldn’t. Blood Oath had been offered a record deal? When had this happened? And they had to move to another country? Which country? Why was I finding out about it by accident?
I felt trapped in the small space so I turned and opened the door to the studio to get fresh air. I heard a noise behind me and when I looked over my shoulder, I locked eyes with May and his face dropped. I turned and hurried outside into the rain and cold of the January evening.
“Frankie!” I heard May shout. “Fuck! Risk, Frankie heard us! She knows!”
I broke out into a jog as I rushed away from the studio, my mind running wild. I gasped when I heard footsteps behind me and then felt arms come around him, bringing me to an abrupt stop. I struggled until lips pressed against my ear and his voice said, “Please, let me explain. Please.”
“You want to explain now?” I repeated. “You were bloody adamant in there that I wasn’t supposed to know anything of what you said.”
“Cherry, please,” Risk pleaded, using the name only he called me. “Just listen to me.”
He turned me to face him and brushed my wet hair back out of my face. I looked up at him, blinking as the rain fell heavier from the night sky. We were standing under a broken streetlight that flickered every few seconds. The wind howled around us and the cold air of the night burned my lungs as I inhaled.
“What’s goin’ on?” I demanded. “I don’t understand any of what I heard.”
“Come inside out of the rain—”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is goin’ on!”
Risk leaned his head back and exhaled, his hot breath fogging the air around him. When he looked back down at me, water ran from his matted, sopping wet hair down his sculpted face.
“The day your mum had her accident, Hayes got a phone call from a representative from New Chord Records. It’s a small American record label. They saw videos of us online and they listened to our EP. They love our sound, our lyrics and our look. They’re flying us out to Los Angeles on Wednesday so we can meet the executives of the company. They’re offerin’ us a record deal and if we like what they have to say, we’ll be signed to their
label.”
I stared up at Risk, my heart hammering inside my chest.
“What’s the catch?” I asked. “I know there is one, you wouldn’t have kept this from me otherwise.”
“They let us know that if we sign with them, we have . . . we have to move to Los Angeles for a couple of years to work with them on improving our sound and searching for a fourth member. They know we’ve been looking for a drummer and they’re giving us time to find someone who fits in with the band. They mentioned putting us up in an small apartment while we write and record an album. They’re a small company so they need us to be committed to them as they haven’t got extra money to waste. We need to be in the same city to cancel out travel expenses. It’ll be hardcore work for us until we release the album we’ve been writing—”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I interrupted. “Why? This is huge.”
I felt sick. Processing his words was incredibly difficult.
“Because of your mum,” he stated. “How could I just spring the best news of my life onto you when your world was crashin’ down around you?”
“Because this is somethin’ I need to know, Risk. That’s why!”
He reached for me and for the first time in our relationship, I recoiled from his touch. Hurt filled his blue eyes and his arm dropped limply to his side. He didn’t take his eyes off me once as I reached into my bag and grabbed my inhaler the second I heard the wheeze in my throat. I closed my eyes and focused on taking my medicine.
“Slow breaths,” Risk urged. “That’s it, baby. Slow.”
The attack never had a leg to stand on, so when I felt the threat of it pass by, I relaxed. I held my inhaler in my hand, opened my eyes and looked back up at my boyfriend.
“I can’t go to America.”
“Not on this trip,” he said. “I know that. This is just a three-day thing to see if what they’re offerin’ is the real deal. We’ll have to have a solicitor look over whatever contract they give us before we sign anythin’, but—”
“Risk, no.” I shook my head. “I can’t go to America. Not now, not ever.”
Risk’s whole body seemed to tense.
“What?”
“My mum’s disease is only startin’ and it is progressive. That means she’s goin’ to get really sick over time and she’ll need me. I can’t go to America while that is happening.”
Risk blinked repeatedly. “But . . . But she lives with Michael now and he’s a doctor.”
“So?” I said. “Just because she lives with her boyfriend doesn’t mean she won’t need me. D’you understand how seriously ill she is? People think this disease is just someone forgetting things here and there, but it’s not. It’s cruel and it’s horrible and it’s going to erase her, Risk. It robs someone of themselves piece by piece over time until basic functions are a challenge. I can’t leave her when she needs me the most, Risk. I won’t. She’s my mum.”
Over the past week I had educated myself in my mother’s disease and the things I learned utterly devastated me. When I thought of the times my mum would misplace something, I would tease her over it. I would constantly joke and tell her that she would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her shoulders. All those jokes and the harmless teasing about how forgetful she was were no longer funny in any way, shape or form. Forgetfulness was one tiny part of something much bigger that my sweet mother was now dealing with. This illness would rob me of her over time and I would be able to do nothing but stand by and watch as it happened.
It had taken me just a couple days to accept it, and the only reason I did was because I knew time wasn’t a luxury I had. If I denied my mum’s sickness, I would only be hurting us both. I accepted her disease, but I was still struggling with knowing that slowly but surely, I was going to lose the woman I knew and loved right before my very eyes. She was going to change so drastically and I couldn’t stop it from happening. All I could do was be there for her and make sure she was loved and cared for so that in her darkest hours she had someone there to keep the light on.
“Frankie,” Risk stepped forward. “What do I do then?”
“What d’you mean?”
“If this works out and we sign our deal, I have to go to America.”
“For two years,” I said, my body beginning to shake. “And that’s only to find a new member and write and record an album. What about when you actually release it and have to promote it and do a bunch of other stuff related to it? What about when you guys blow up into superstars and have to spend a lot more time in America and go on world tours for months out of the year?”
Risk blinked and shook his head, but said nothing because he and I both knew that I was right. This was Blood Oath’s big break, this is what they had been working for, this is what they deserved. It had to be full steam ahead, there could be no setbacks or distractions and I realised in that moment that that was exactly what I had become. Risk realised it too.
“This mi-might not work out though,” he stammered. “This could be a complete bust.”
Tears filled my eyes as I smiled.
“Not a chance, rock star. This is Blood Oath’s beginning. This is what you’ve been chasing . . . you’re gonna get your dream.”
He stared down at me. “But you’re not gonna come with me, are you?”
“No,” I rasped. “I can’t take the risk of leaving my mum.”
“Frankie.”
“I think . . . I think we need to step back from each other.”
Saying those words ripped a hole in my chest.
“You once told me I was the only risk you’d ever take, but you’re risking everything we have right now and for what? Because you think we can’t do long distance?”
“I love you,” I said, my body trembling. “I love you with my whole heart, but I cannot go with you. Your career just got its big break, you know where this ends if we do long distance. You know and so do I. We won’t see each other for months, video chats and calls and texts will dwindle because we’re both busy with our lives, and I don’t want us to end like that. I don’t want us to just . . . fade.”
“Who says we’ll fade?” he demanded. “You’re making excuses now, Frankie, and you know it.”
“I’m not!” I argued. “I’m thinking realistically!”
Frustrated, Risk turned and lobbed his phone at the garden wall next to us. I didn’t flinch when it cracked off the concrete and smashed onto the ground.
“Why’d you do that?” I demanded. “You need a phone now.”
“I’ll get a new one with a new number since it’s obvious you won’t be calling me anymore, right?”
He was hurting. He reacted with anger when he was hurting because it was the only defence tactic he had. Risk had been fostered for most of his life by a family who never treated him like anything other than a stranger and a punching bag. He didn’t learn to love until we got together. His biological mother died of a drug overdose when he was four and he never knew who his father was. He didn’t have a real family until me, May and Hayes formed a bond with him.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t be angry with me.”
“Don’t be angry? We’ve been dating for three years, I’ve known you almost my whole life. I thought we were stronger than this, Frankie. I thought everything in life we were going to do, we would do together. Wasn’t that what we promised?”
It was. When we started dating at fifteen we promised we’d always do everything together. That’d we never leave the other one alone.
“I’m sorry,” my voice cracked. “I wish things were different, I’d leave with you in a minute if they were but they’re not. My mum has Alzheimer’s, Risk. She’s not going to get better, only worse. I have to take care of her, I have to.”
“I can take care of you both.” He reached for me and gripped my arms. “Just come with me. When I make money, I’ll pay the best doctors to help your mum.”
“Baby, listen to yourself. My mum’s sickness is very mild right now, b
ut she’s eventually going to forget everything that’s new to her and only have old memories. How would she cope living in America where everything is strange to her?”
“I don’t fucking know!” he snapped. “I’m trying to think of something to keep this from happening.”
“This is the only way, Risk. I wish it wasn’t but it is. You’re going to live in America for the next couple of years while your band grows and finds success. I’m still going to be here in Southwold with my mum when you’re a worldwide superstar. Don’t you understand that? I’m always going to be here, Risk. My life doesn’t leave this little town . . . but yours will.”
“So what?” he snapped, his blue eyes aflame with hurt. “You’re setting me free, is that it? Am I supposed to fucking thank you for doing this to me? You think breaking up with me is what’s best for me?”
I was sobbing now.
“It is what’s best for you! How can you chase your dreams if you’re stuck in this town with me for the rest of your life?” I pushed against his chest, hating how he thought this was easy for me. Like breaking my own heart was something I wanted to do. “How can you live if you’re trapped here with me? How will you be able to breathe when I feel like I’m suffocating?”
I was screaming now, tears were flowing and my hands were beating against Risk’s chest.
He put his arms round me and held me as I sobbed. I clung on to him like my life depended on it. I pressed my face against his soaking wet chest for a moment longer, then I looked up. Risk was staring down at me, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. I had never seen him look so angry, so hurt, so helpless. I was the cause of each of those emotions and it cut me like a blade knowing that.
“We’re done, Risk,” I said, lifting my hand to his face. “I’m b-breaking up with you.”
The muscles in his sharp jaw rolled back and forth as his ice-blues stared down at me. I scanned my eyes over every inch of his face, memorising it all so on the nights I was alone and hurting for him, I would know exactly how he looked in this moment.
