Fault Lines

by Rebecca Shea

  Frankie finally wrestles herself out of my arms, and I gently guide her down to the couch. She eases herself onto one end and looks up at me. "Why, Cole? Why couldn't you talk to me?" Her voice trembles and I shake my head .

  Because you deserved better than what I could give .

  I swallow against the growing lump in my throat and sit down next to her. Her hands sit on her lap, and I want so badly to lace my fingers through hers, but I won’t try to touch her like that .

  I simply answer her honestly. "Because I loved you too much to let you sacrifice your dreams for me." I choke back the tears I feel forming in my eyes. It's the most honest I've been with Frankie, and also myself .

  She nods her head slowly and sniffles. "And I loved you so much that I would have sacrificed everything—for you." She turns her head and looks at me. "You were the only thing I ever wanted, Cole. I fell in love with you the first day I met you. I was eleven years old—" Her voice shakes with emotion, and I remember that day like it was yesterday, because that was the day I fell in love with her, too. "What's that saying? The truth shall set you free?" She takes a sharp breath. "Bullshit, sometimes the truth hurts worse than the fucking lie ."

  She pushes herself up from the couch and turns toward me. "So fuck you and fuck your truth, Cole." Her eyes hold the pain of the world and I hate myself for that. Tears pool in her pain filled eyes when she turns on her heel and walks away, grabbing her purse that's been sitting on top of my desk on her way out. As her footsteps lead her away from me, I hear the faint sound of her sobs begin again as she disappears down the hallway, the front door slamming behind her as she leaves .

  * * *

  "S o, you told her everything?" Carter asks me again while pouring himself a cup of coffee. I don't have it in me to retell the entire conversation, or discuss the pain in her eyes or the disgusted look on her face…or the one that displayed pure hatred toward me .

  I nod my head as it's about all I can muster up the strength to do right now .

  "And from the looks of you, I assume it didn't go well?" He stands, his hip leaning against my kitchen counter .

  I rake my hands up my face and through my hair, stopping to rub my eyes that burn from lack of sleep and frustration. "What the hell kind of question is that, Carter?" I bark at him as I push myself up from the kitchen table, the legs of my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Of course it didn’t fucking go well.” How the hell did he think that conversation would go? That I’d tell her the truth and she’d fall in my arms and forgive me ?

  "So what now?" he asks .

  I sigh in frustration. "What the fuck do you think? We move on. She knows the truth now. It didn't change anything. She still hates me. End of story ."

  Carter furrows his brows at me and slams his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter. "So you're just gonna let her walk away again? Because, if you do, you're a bigger fucking idiot than I already thought you were ."

  My anger intensifies and I clench my fists. "What choice do I fucking have, Carter? I told her the truth. I cleared my conscience. She slapped me. I apologized. She left. Seems pretty fucking clear to me — "

  I'm cut off by the loud bang of his empty ceramic mug being tossed into the stainless steel sink. "You're a bigger pussy now than you were ten years ago, you know that?" He moves across the kitchen and positions himself right in my face. He may be shorter and smaller, but Carter is the only person who's ever had the balls to stand up to me. Disappointment crawls across his face. "I watched you self-destruct for ten fucking years because of a lie you told Frankie. I watched what it did to both of my friends and the pain it caused. Now that you've confessed to Frankie, you're just going to let her go — "

  I cut him off. "How many times are you going to have this conversation with me? She's engaged, Carter." I pound my pointer finger into his chest, causing him to take a step backward. "She's marrying another man. She told me she was happy." I feel my anger turn to sadness, and I pause, trying to swallow back my emotions .

  My heart races and my stomach flips as I think about that diamond ring on her finger, and her saying the words 'I do' to someone else. It should be me she's saying those words to. It should be my ring on her finger. But I have to come to terms with the fact that I pushed her away and she's moved on. Rightfully so .

  My voice lowers to just above a whisper. "She's happy," I repeat .

  Carter stands there watching me with cautious eyes, allowing the words I can't say to speak for themselves. She's happy, and I'm not going to ruin that again. I need to let her go. Those words sting, which is why I can't say them—or maybe because I don't want to believe them .

  Carter takes a deep breath and swallows hard, his cautious eyes turning dark. "She's as big a fucking liar as you are," he hisses at me, bumping his shoulder into mine as he passes me, nearly knocking me over on his way out .

  * * *

  "H ello?" I answer my cell phone from a number I don't recognize with a Los Angeles area code. A familiar sounding voice fills the line, but I'm having a hard time placing who it is .

  "Is this Cole Ryan ?"

  "Speaking."

  "This is Jack Vanderbilt. A good friend gave me your information, said you're the best of the best when it comes to auto restoration ."

  I'm momentarily taken aback by the fact that Jack fucking Vanderbilt is calling me. He's a television morning show co-host, he has his own production company, and he’s also a radio host. He's one of America's most popular celebrities and has his hand in every aspect of the entertainment industry .

  "I appreciate the referral," I respond, grabbing a notebook from my desk .

  For the next several minutes, he rattles off the details of the car he has and would like me to refurbish from bumper to bumper. He doesn't blink an eye when I tell him it'll cost upward of two hundred thousand dollars, and that's a blind estimate. It could go higher once I get my eyes on the car and see its condition and what I'm going to be working with .

  As I do with all my clients before I accept a vehicle, I do a thorough inspection. But Mr. Vanderbilt also doesn't blink an eye about flying me to Los Angeles to do the inspection, or the cost I've asked to do it. He takes my information and tells me his assistant will be in contact within the hour to schedule travel arrangements. Hell, I'm surprised his assistant wasn't the one who called me. He wants this done as soon as possible and is willing to pay a premium to get it done .

  For the last eight years, I've had non-stop restoration business and it's helped me invest back into Crescent Ridge. I'm not only thankful for the income it has brought in but for the distraction that I know I'm going to need now more than ever .

  I prop my feet up on the corner of my desk and lean back in my desk chair. My head drops back as I rub my temples where they've been pounding since Frankie left. Last night’s beerfest, the lack of sleep, and all my emotions simmering at the surface are all taking its toll on me. Maybe a short getaway will do me some good and allow me to clear my head .

  * * *

  I push myself upright, glancing out the window and across the street. I must’ve sat in this chair for nine thousand nights looking out this window, waiting to see if Frankie would come home, and here she is fifty yards away, only it still feels like seven hundred miles. Headlights catch my attention and I recognize Faith's car rolling to a stop outside just as Frankie bounds down the front porch, dragging a suitcase behind her. Faith meets her in the driveway where they both embrace .

  Faith holds Frankie's head and kisses her forehead before they both wipe tears from their cheeks. My heart sinks when I realize she's leaving me—again .

  Faith helps Frankie load her suitcase into the trunk of the Mercedes and my heart beats wildly, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I push myself
up from the desk and hurry to the front door. My gut says to let her go, but my heart won't let me .

  It takes me less than five seconds to cross my front lawn where I pause at the edge of the street. The pain on Frankie's face takes my breath away as she cries into Faith's shoulder. Faith rubs circles on Frankie's back, comforting her as she looks over Frankie's shoulder and sees me approach. A quick shake of her head warns me to stay where I'm at, but everything inside me is calling me across that street .

  "Frankie," I call to her, her head snapping up .

  "Don't," Faith warns me as my feet carry me across the broken asphalt. I ignore her warning but proceed cautiously .

  "Frankie, please — "

  "Please what, Cole?" she barks, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Her pale face is splotchy and red from crying .

  "Please, don't go ."

  She lets out a low guttural laugh and slowly puts one foot in front of the other, descending down her driveway toward me, stopping just out of my reach .

  "What right do you think you have asking me to stay?" she asks, her chest heaving as if she's just run a marathon. Her wavy hair is piled on top of her head and her lips are pursed. Her bloodshot eyes highlight just how beautiful the blue irises are, and her dark lashes are coated in tears as she licks her lips and waits for me to answer .

  "I don't want you to go," I tell her, reaching out my hand as if she'll reach out in return and take it. Instead she takes a step backward as if I’m dangerous. My heart plummets as she retreats .

  "You ruined everything!" she screams at me, stumbling backward. Faith jogs down and wraps her arm around Frankie's shoulder and guides her back up the driveway. "You ruined my life," she cries and buries her face into her hands .

  "Stop it," Faith says, hushing her and whispering into her ear before turning back to me, disappointment in her eyes. "Leave, Cole ."

  I ignore Faith's request. "I didn't ruin your life, Frankie — "

  "Stop!" Faith yells over her shoulder at me and if looks could kill I'd be a dead man. "Leave ."

  I raise my hands in surrender and walk backward across the street, my eyes never leaving Frankie .

  Only my gut tells me this is it. This is the last time I'm going to see her. "I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm so goddamn sorry. Please listen to me." My voice breaks and I let it. She's hurting and it's literally eating me alive .

  The taillights on her Mercedes blink as the driver's door opens and she slides into the front seat. Déjà vu hits me as the car roars to life and she puts the car in reverse, backing out of her driveway. There's something more real about her leaving this time, something so final. Just like before, she drives away leaving me here in Crescent Ridge, and there's not a damn thing I can do but let her go .

  Twelve

  I don't even know how I manage to focus on the road in front of me. Between bouts of crying and internal rationalization, I know leaving Crescent Ridge, again, is for the best. Mom is doing better than I anticipated, and now that Faith is home, and with the help of the nurses, I know Mom is in good hands. There’s no need for me in Crescent Ridge .

  The further I get away from that little town and my past, the more I realize how I never really got over Cole. I buried us, but never dealt with us. Cole is a scab covering my broken heart that never fully healed. The kind that pulls up at the edges when bumped slightly and begins to bleed all over again. Seeing him again, listening to his apology ripped that scab off and reopened that gaping wound .

  All of the pain we endure over the course of our lives leaves us full of battle scars. In time, the pain eventually heals, but the scars always remain, reminding us of where we've been, and the battles we've endured. Except Cole will never be a scar—he'll always be a gaping wound on my heart that never heals .

  The clock on my car display tells me it's just past nine-thirty in the evening. I still have three hours ahead of me until I make it back to Los Angeles. I've tried calling Ted numerous times, only his phone goes straight to voice mail, so I call the only other person who knows about my history with Cole—Ashley, my college roommate and best friend .

  As the phone rings and rings, it's hard not to remember all that Ashley and I have been through, and memories of freshman year come racing back .

  A light sweat sprinkles my forehead as I jog across campus to get back to my dorm room as quickly as possible. I finished my last final of my freshman year and my mind is on one thing—getting home to Cole .

  “Ash,” I holler as I push open our dorm room door, pulling the key from the lock .

  “In here,” she answers me with her soft voice. I find Ashley, my roommate, with her head stuck in the built-in wardrobe, pulling shirts off of hangers and folding them neatly before placing them in moving boxes .

  “I’m done. I’m headed out,” I muster as I try to catch my breath .

  She lifts her head and twists her lips into a pout. “You said you weren’t leaving until tomorrow .”

  “I know, but I just want to get home. There's no sense in delaying — ”

  She interrupts me. "So you're going to tell him ?"

  "I can't not tell him, Ash." I take a deep breath and wipe the small beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand .

  She cocks an eyebrow and glances at me out of the side of her eye. “You sure you don’t want to spend the summer with me in Malibu? Take the summer off to decide what you're going to do? Relax with me at my parents' country club?” She grins at me and bites her lip .

  I release a loud sigh. “Ash, you know I can’t afford to spend one night in Malibu, let alone the summer. And I know what I'm going to do.” I pull my last duffle bag off the twin-size bed that was mine for the last nine months and steady the strap over my shoulder .

  Ashley steps over the box of clothes she was just packing and places both of her hands on my shoulders. “It’s my parents’ house, silly. You wouldn’t have to pay a thing, you know that. And I’m going to be home alone most of the summer while my parents are in Europe. I need someone to keep me company. My parents would consider that payment enough,” she pouts .

  I offer her a tight smile. “I can’t. I need to get back to Crescent Ridge — ”

  “No,” she interrupts me. “You need to get back to Cole Ryan.” Her eyes lift knowingly .

  “Cole…” I smile. “I miss him — ”

  “I know you do, but Frances, Crescent Ridge is in the middle of the desert. Literally in the middle of nowhere. You should be where it's civilized and — ”

  “It’s not in the middle of nowhere,” I correct her .

  “Close enough. The nearest town is thirty some miles away. You don’t even have a Starbucks for Christsake .”

  I tap her nose jokingly. “We have the Ridge Diner and their coffee is better than any one of those sugary Starbucks drinks .”

  She sighs loudly and blinks her green eyes rapidly. “It’s just that I’m really going to miss you, and next year won’t be the same — ”

  “That’s your fault.” I laugh at her. “You were the one who wanted to rush a sorority and move into the house ."

  She rolls her eyes at me and tosses her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “It’s a legacy thing. My mother did it, my grandmother did it…they’d kill me if I didn’t. They almost killed me for not doing it this year.” She sighs .

  I reach out and touch her forearm. “Hey, I’m happy for you, Ash. You’re going to be living with a great group of girls. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be fine in the Ridge.” I pull the strap of the duffle bag up a little higher on my shoulder to balance the weight since it’s so heavy .

  She gives me a longing look before returning to her packing. “You tell Cole he better take care of you .”

  Ashley and I are polar opposites on pretty much everything, but we became the best of friends the day I move
d into the dorms at the University of Southern California. We’re the unlikely duo. She’s blonde, I’m brunette. She’s rich, I’m not. She’s destined to be a trophy wife and I’m studying my ass off to be a lawyer. She’s all about having fun, and I’m all about trying to graduate as soon as possible so I can start my career and life with Cole Ryan. She’s everything I’m not, and I’m everything she’s not .

  “Give me that piece of shit phone of yours,” she grumbles, swiping away a stray tear. She begins pounding on the screen before handing the phone back to me, and I notice that she’s changed her name from Ash to Best Friend .

  I smile at her warmly. “You are my best friend, Ashley .”

  She lets out a little laugh. “I’m your only friend.” Sadly, she's right .

  “You’re such a bitch.” I swat at her and begin moving toward the door .

  “You love me,” she calls after me .

  Turning around, my lips pull into a giant smile. “I do.” I'm so lucky to have Ashley for a friend. I'm not sure I would have survived my freshman year away from Cole without her. She's the kind of friend who'd help you bury a body and take that secret to the grave with her .

  “Frances? Please call me if you need anything." She raises her eyebrows and pulls her lips between her teeth. "And maybe call me, just to talk, ya know.” Her voice breaks .

  I glance over my shoulder and see her choking back her emotions. I turn around and walk over to her, pulling her into a tight hug. “You know I will .”

  “And when you come back in the fall, check your shitty attitude at the door. You’ve been a real piece of work the last few weeks.” She squeezes me back hard .

  I smile and tilt my head at her. “I’m just tired. You know I haven’t been feeling well .”

  “You’re love sick,” she sighs with a chuckle .