by Bellus, HJ
Dalton saddles up on Pokey when dusk settles in. Instantly, I mourn the loss of our connection.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I plant my hands on my hips and tilt my head.
“My horse is tired.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Oh, really?” I shake my head.
“Yeah, he told me so.” Cray pats his lap. “Get on up here. I want to hold you on the way back.”
I don’t argue one bit or continue the banter. I get one foot in the stirrup and do no more as Cray grabs my hips and settles me in front of him. Best idea ever. I relax back against his chest as he nudges Pokey into a walk. He hands me the long reins to his horse who follows us back. Neither of us says a word, enjoying the connection and perfect nature all around us.
Uncle Preach’s back porch light is on, guiding us easily back to the barn. Cray gives me space to take care of Pokey, only pointing out what stall to bed him in. We walk up to the house hand in hand, not hiding a thing. I follow him right up through the broken railing. I’m not as graceful or have legs as long as Cray. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and pull me up by the hips and sneak in a quick kiss.
Light hollow snoring streams from Truckee who has his legs kicked up on a table with his cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. I don’t miss the disapproving look Opal sends our way and Preach gently rocking with a big ol’ smile on his face.
“Planned on staying here tonight, Preach.” Cray tugs me over to a double rocker. “That good with you?”
“You know the answer, son.” He nods his head.
Opal gets up from her chair and storms into the house. I try to stand to see what’s up, but Cray keeps me seated next to him.
“She’s pissed at me. Warned me away from you.” He glances back at the front door. “And she’s probably right, but I couldn’t do it.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Probably right?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “She’s coming from a therapeutic stance and I get that. I tried to control myself.”
I nod right back at him. I know deep down Opal is right. I have so much healing to do, searching for who I am, and life to live before drowning in Dalton Cray. It would be so easy to ignore all the help I need and fall into the guy.
My ringtone blares in the night air on the porch, where it sits next to Truckee’s boot.
“That thing has been going off non-stop.” Preach points at it as he leans forward, lighting up a thick cigar.
I stand up and snag it.
June: I have no idea what she’s doing (eye roll emoji) Like I said I’m tired of babying her. This is getting just ridiculous. I think she’s just become an attention whore.
Like last time, I crane my head from side to side, trying to piece together June’s weird text. I don’t have long because the phone begins ringing in my hand.
“Hello.” I walk down the steps of the porch this time, wandering around in the front yard.
“Jesus, you are alive!” June screams into the phone. “What in the hell is going on?”
There’s a weird tone in her voice. She’s nervous and unsure. I think about the text. No, she couldn’t have been talking about me.
“What are you talking about?” I’m sure the rumors have spread rapidly around town, but seriously, I’m not sure what exactly she’s zeroing in on.
“We came home today. I went to your house and you weren’t there.”
“You’re home?”
“Yeah, I’ve told you when I was coming home.”
“Okaaayyy.” I stretch out the word.
“You have a guardian now? The sheriff has been staying at your place? He beat the shit out of Les Monroe in the grocery store for looking at you? He’s threatened Veronica and her friends with their lives? Like I said, what in the hell is going on, Frankie?”
I pinch my forehead, pacing back and forth, willing the fire on my tongue to not spew out. Rumors, rumors, rumors have all been planted and well-fed it seems. Of course, there’s always a pinch of truth in every single one, but June is supposed to be my best friend and I can’t help but feel attacked right now.
“Are you there, Frankie?” her voice demands.
It’s not an attack, I remind myself. She’s worried and has every right to be. I swallow down the anger that fucking small town can so easily create in me. I hate that place. I hate it so damn dearly.
“I did have a guardian,” I reply, gripping the phone.
I don’t have time to go on because I’m interrupted.
“And she’s related to you? Bullshit, Frankie! And what about the house fire and the pastor who’s up and vanished? What in the hell is going on?”
I snap. The final thread of my patience snaps as bright as a bolt of lightning. I’m done appeasing everyone and completely over-explaining myself when everyone in my previous life never wanted to hear the truth and more than likely would call me a liar. I buried a shadow that haunted me for years. That’s my secret. I busted away from the chains that kept me prisoner in my own fucking life. I’m over all of it and this just cemented that fact.
“If you’d let me fucking talk, June, I’d tell you,” I burst into the phone, done pacing.
Silence shreds through the phone line. Ahhh, I finally have her attention and I don’t feel bad for the way I had to get it. Hands settle on my hips. I don’t flinch, jump, or even think twice. I know it’s him. His woodsy scent wraps me up in a hug. Cray pulls my back to his chest then runs his nose up and down the length of my neck.
“Are you okay?” he whispers into my ear.
I nod and clutch one of his hands with my free one, letting him know I want him here. I hold my chin high and carry on with no apologies for the first time in my life.
“I had a guardian, yes, but only for the couple of weeks or so between when my grandmother died and I turned eighteen. The sheriff has been at my house helping with everything that has gone down in the last few weeks. I needed support. Les wasn’t friendly in the store to me.” I blow out a long breath. “But none of my side of the story matters does it, June? You’ve done made up your mind and that’s fine. Want to know why?”
Silence again. I wait for a few beats to give her a chance to reply and when she doesn’t I go on.
“It’s fine because I’m good and I’ll be okay.”
“I was worried,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Assuming everything you heard filtered from your father was true? Believing I dropped out of school because of anxiety? Or what else, June?”
“That’s not fair,” she retorts.
“I’m not stupid, June. Right now I can’t even begin to comprehend your texts. You were talking about me and accidentally sent it to me. Don’t worry anymore. Your freak friend doesn’t need you anymore.”
“I-uh…I-uh,” she stutters out.
“Don’t even try to make up an excuse.”
“I was stressed and you never tell me shit, Frankie.”
“You’re not a friend, June. It's the truth, and you know it. My world has been flipped upside down and I’m taking it back. It’s been off-kilter for years now and I’m tired of it.”
“Frankie,” she pleads.
“Goodbye, June.” I end the call and then power off my phone. The truth is I don’t even need this damn thing. Some stupid iPhone isn’t going to ease away or fix any of my problems. My battles run much deeper. Soul deep.
“You okay?” Cray runs his lips up to my neck.
I nod. It’s the only commitment I can give, not wanting to put too much thought into it. The truth is I won’t be okay for a very long time.
“Do you think you were a little too hard on her?”
I turn in Cray’s arms, resting my hands on the tops of his shoulders and shake my head. “No.”
“Okay.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.
“She called in attack mode and I know some of that is just her personality, but still it’s not okay. She heard things and assumed the worst. That’s not what best f
riends do, and if I’m being honest—best friends also don’t turn a blind eye to cutting.” I don’t have the energy to tell him about the texts. It’s a fresh wound that will take years to heal from, if I ever do. June was the last person I thought would do that to me.
“She saw?”
“I know she did. We never talked about it.” I fight the tears back because I am not going to cry. “I told myself she didn’t and started to believe my own lie. It’s on me, too. I’m not innocent.”
“Yes, you…”
I press a finger to his lips. “I could’ve and should’ve asked for help and I didn’t. The thing is there’s nothing left for me in that town. I hate it. I’ll never heal there.”
I don’t miss the wince and his own pain on his face from my truth.
“I agree, Frankie.” He cups my cheek. “This is your time and you need to do what you need to. Not going to lie here, baby, I want nothing more than to put you in my pickup and drive away, finding a place to keep you safe the rest of your life where no one can hurt you. I want that bad, but it’s not my choice. It’s yours. End of.”
* * *
I creep out into Preach’s living room before going to bed only to find Opal curled up on the couch with her nose plastered to her Kindle.
“Hey.” I sit opposite of her on the couch.
“Hey.” She sets down the reader and clutches a coffee mug.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, nibbling on my bottom lip.
She shakes her head and takes a sip. “I’m not mad at anyone. It’s just that I’ve seen this go down so many times. Well, to be honest, I’m a bit pissed at Dalton, but I understand.”
“Because of us? Him and me?”
“Yeah, I told him to back off and not come in to rescue the day, to keep his distance from you. I know how these Cray men are. They’re savers, fixers, and protectors. And when they love, they love big.”
“It feels good,” I whisper, staring down at my nails.
“Damn, girl, do I know that better than anyone. Truckee is my own kryptonite. He has been for a few years now. I wouldn’t own my business without him. He sees me in need and fixes it without asking. It’s the main thing we fight about daily and it’s also the reason I love him.”
“But you weren’t or aren’t broken,” I whisper.
“Hey.” Opal scoots down the length of the couch and clutches my hands in hers. “Look at me.”
She waits until I do.
“We are all broken, some more than others. I had my own demons, just like you do. I was saved by a therapy program. It opened my eyes and I want to give back so that’s what I do.”
“I don’t want to go back home,” I admit.
Opal relaxes back into me and I do the same. “My momma was a crack whore. Overdosed when I was twelve. I bounced around in foster homes until I was eighteen. Yeah, I know, so typical, right? Found myself in a bad way on the streets mixed up with the wrong people. It wasn’t until I moved to Draxton Falls and robbed the wrong person.”
“Truckee,” I answer.
“Yep, Truckee. I was afraid of nothing back then, because I had nothing to lose. Instead of throwing my ass in jail or hell, taking care of it himself, he dropped me off at a rehab center. I didn’t do drugs.” She chuckles. “But in that moment, my life was changed because the people there cared and got me in the right program. I went back to Draxton Falls to thank Truckee and never left.”
“You guys fell in love.”
“Oh, no, Frankie, it hasn’t been an easy road and to be honest Truckee is different here than he is back home. It’s complicated, but the point is I was healthy when I went back. I was strong. I had a mission and goals. That’s the important part.”
“I want that so bad.” I lay my head on her shoulder.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dalton Cray
“Hey, you okay?” I lift my head from the pillow and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
Frankie crawls under the covers and curls up next to me. “Yes, I’m perfect.”
I roll over so I’m holding her. She presses her cheek to my chest and places her hand over my heart.
“Frankie?”
“I’m good.” She squeezes tighter to me. “Just let me hold you.”
I lean up and kiss the top of her head. Something has shifted. I want to ask so damn bad but don’t. I allow her this moment. Her heartbeat thudding on my rib cage lulls me right back to a dream-filled sleep of what could be.
A loud bang from outside startles me awake.
“You damn woodpecker.” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Make you think twice about nesting around here again.”
I sit up, scrubbing my face then feel the bed. Frankie’s side is cold. The sun is bright outside. Once she curled up next to me, I had the best sleep of my life.
“Shit,” I hiss. A gunshot will startle the shit out of her. Hell, the sight of Preach tromping around his front yard with a shotgun more than likely still in his boxers is enough to scare the shit out of anyone.
I use the bathroom off the guest room and pull on my jeans, forgoing zipping or buttoning them in my haste. I stride out of the bathroom and that’s when I see it. I have no clue how I missed it before.
A white envelope propped up on the lamp near the bed with my name written on it—in perfect and precise cursive. My heart sinks at the sight of it. I know what it is without having to open it. My broken bird took her first step in getting her wings back.
I sit on the edge of the bed and twirl the envelope in my hands. I knew last night was a goodbye. I just didn’t want to admit it. A ball of regret lodges in my throat when I peel back the flap.
Cray,
I never would’ve been able to leave if I had to tell you face-to-face. That makes me a coward and I’ll own it. I want nothing more than to stay with you. Runaway together and get lost in each other. The thing is I’m not a whole person.
When I’m around you, you, Cray, make me want to be whole and live life. It’s the beginning of a new me, but I know one small setback would destroy me. And possibly even us and that scares me more than anything.
I need help. I need to grieve. I need to scream and find me.
Please don’t be mad at Opal for taking me. I asked her to. I’ve asked her not to share where I am with you because you’re my crutch and I need to stand in order to ever run.
I’ll never forget you and everything you’ve done for me. Not one day will go by that I won’t remember the love and passion you tattooed on my skin.
Love,
Frankie
“Hey, Dickhead, want to go for a ride?” Truckee pops his head in the room.
I hold up the letter, speechless, knowing it was the right thing for her to do but in no way does it make it any easier to swallow.
“Shit.” Truckee steps in, tilting his hat back. “That’s where Opal is.”
“She’s gone.” I smile, happy for her, then lean forward and bury my face in my hands.
“I’ll get the whiskey,” he replies.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Frankie
Three Years Later
It’s him. I freeze in place, feeding Duke the rescue horse another flake of hay. I blink once, then twice, glancing back down to the remaining hay my knuckles are gripping. There’s no sheriff badge beaming off his chest. I glance down to the waist of his jeans and see no gun. His brother isn’t at his side. But it’s him.
My savior, the man who rescued me. I was seventeen and he was nearing his mid to late twenties. Everything was always wrong for so many days that bled into years. He forced me to see it, live it out, and endure the hell out of my pain. They were the worst days of my life.
Old habits die hard as I reach up under the long sleeves of my flannel shirt to rub the pads of my fingers over the raised and indented scars. This time, fingernails do not pierce and stab my flesh. No, I’m able to smile and embrace the memories. The memories that made me. The ones before Satan himself tore me apart.
He’s mad
e me a millionaire and doesn’t even know it. I’m not talking in terms of money. Not even close. He set my soul free from the hell it was barred in. Dalton was judge, jury, and executioner. But in the end, it was me who played the last move of the game three years ago.
I take one final chance, looking up, and that’s when we connect. I fall in love all over again with those rich, whiskey colored eyes that have always promised safety and love. Intoxication curtains my every feature as I fall drunk on this man. He’s sporting scruff, but it doesn’t conceal that strong jawline of his. He’s still perfection.
In true Dalton feature, he doesn’t flinch or blink. He gives me his all. And that’s the moment I realize love is precious and life is worth so much more than my greatest fear.
“John, what’s next?” I glance over to another person who saved me from my own personal hell. I allowed him to peel back all the layers, even the scary and uncomfortable ones, until the core of me was able to shine again.
He rambles on about some damn thing or another. There’s no way I can compute anything he’s saying with the adrenaline coursing through me right now. John was my counselor at the first therapeutic wilderness camp I attended. I’ve never lost contact with him, and now he’s retired and opening his own animal rescue haven.
I give Duke a pat on his cheek and a quick peck on the tip of his nose, then tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I square my shoulders, scanning the small crowd for Dalton. I shade my hand over my eyes and find him easily. I’m not sure if it’s my intense connection with him or dumb luck. I don’t analyze that shit anymore. I live for me and the next beat of my heart.
I’ve wanted to go back to Dalton so many times over the last three years. I can’t tell you exactly why I never did, but I guess it’s a combination of being scared, nerves, and always fearful that I’m not completely healed. I know that reality will never happen. I’m free, I’m healthy, and now it’s my time. I just hope I’m not too late to finally love Dalton Cray with everything I have.
