Hated (Hearts of Stone #3)

by Christine Manzari

  I shook my head like I was trying to knock away all the nonsense. “You talk in so many riddles you’d give the fucking Sphynx a run for her money,” I accused him, forcing a grin.

  He laughed almost in relief at my joke. “Come on, let’s get that drink before I head home. Beth likes to watch her DVR’d episodes of The Bachelor on Sunday nights, and I have to be almost piss drunk to make it through an entire show.” Slinging his arm over my shoulder, he steered me toward the doors, and I cast a glance back at the poster of Frankie.

  Allie George.

  Is that what I needed to see? That Frankie had made a whole new life for herself? One that didn’t include me?

  — FRANKIE —

  15. REGRET IS FOREVER

  FIVE YEARS AGO — AUGUST 2012

  I snuggled into the curve of Austin’s arm, pressing my body against his, trying to steal every second possible to be close, wishing I could stop time.

  He was leaving for Vegas in the morning, and I wasn’t ready.

  Austin’s hand moved lazily back and forth as his fingertips grazed the bare skin of my arm in a light caress that made me shiver. It always started like this…his reverent touch and infinite patience making our clothes disappear between soft kisses and tentative fingers. Some people had sex—a flash and a blaze that was quick to light and even faster to cool. Others made love—a sweet smoldering adoration that burned, but never quite took flame.

  But Austin and me? We were the best of both worlds. Friends and lovers. Passionate and tender. A flame in the dark and an inferno that consumed everything.

  I knew that I would burn for Austin Stone until the day I died. And I’d be happy to do it.

  His hand moved down my arm and slid to my waist, his head turning so that his lips captured mine in a lazy kiss. He pulled me on top of him and those talented fingers—the ones that could lure my soul out of my body and thread it across the strings of his cello in beautiful music—they worshiped me, touching and squeezing as he groaned in appreciation. His hands took a leisurely path along my ribs and waist, flaring out over my hips and pulling my panties down halfway as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband.

  Austin paused, the fabric pulled taut across the middle of my ass, tempting both of us with what was to come. He ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, delighting in the exposed skin before he took his time pulling them the rest of the way down.

  My heart was pounding like it always did when I rose up on my knees to take my panties the rest of the way off. Then I reached down to remove Austin’s boxers, feeling powerful with the way his abs flinched and tightened when I grazed them. Grabbing a condom, I straddled his thighs, and as I ripped open the package, his hands slid up the front of my body to cup my breasts, pushing the fabric of my bra up until it was out of the way.

  Austin inhaled sharply as I rolled the condom on. I met his gaze, knowing what I would see in his eyes—trust, devotion, lust. I leaned forward so that my breasts fell into his palms, and I lifted up onto my knees again, this time sliding the head of him along the slick warmth between my legs.

  His eyes fell shut and then he pushed his hips up, just enough to slip into me and make us both moan with need. I circled my hips and took him in a bit further, my hands moving to his shoulders so I could have control. Our bodies, so in tune with one another, fell into a slow torturous rhythm as he continued to just barely enter me, a teasing stroke that had us both panting.

  When I couldn’t take his unhurried teasing anymore, I pushed down hard until he was so deep inside me that we both stopped breathing for a moment. And then his hands were on my waist and my fingers were digging into his shoulders and there was nothing slow or gentle between us anymore. We pressed together over and over again with slick skin and deep thrusts, a feeling of desperation clinging to us, both of us holding on to one another so hard it was as if we thought we could keep real life from ever separating us.

  Austin suddenly gripped my hips and flipped me over onto my back. My hands fell from his shoulders in surprise, and he twisted his fingers between mine, pressing them against the mattress. Thrusting his hips slower, the frantic desperation of a few minutes ago gave way to a slow burn as he slid in and out of me, rubbing against me when he was buried inside.

  He kissed me fiercely, robbing me of my breath, plunging inside me, grinding and stroking and claiming me. I felt the heat of that wild fire between us building deep inside and then it was racing through my body and all I could do was call Austin’s name and wrap my legs around his hips to keep him close.

  When his own wild fire ignited, he squeezed my hands hard and pushed once more inside me, pulsing and jerking. His voice was low and gravelly as he groaned.

  He dropped his cheek to mine, and after a few moments he said, “Will it always be like this?”

  I pressed my hand to the back of his head, my fingers twisting into his hair. “Like what?”

  He rubbed the side of his jaw against mine, his rough stubble scraping deliciously across my flushed cheek. “Like it’s the first time and the last time all at once? Will it always feel like I need you more than I did before?” His lips touched the edge of my ear, leaving tiny echoes of kisses there that had me turning my head and offering up my neck instead. He obliged.

  “I hope so,” I told him as he traced the line of my neck with his lips.

  Finally, he rolled over and tucked me close against him. He’d have to climb out of my window soon, and neither of us wanted that to happen. We stared at the ceiling, our fingers and hands taking one last stroll across one another’s bodies.

  When I felt him start to fall asleep, I reached over to my nightstand, and the motion jostled him awake. I grabbed the tiny box I’d left there earlier and dropped it onto his chest.

  Austin raised his eyebrow at me. “Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee for this?” He picked up the box and shook it experimentally.

  I curled my hand into a loose fist and then used one fingertip to trace along the curve of his chest muscle. “Trust me, if I was on my knees in front of you, it wouldn’t be to propose.”

  I dragged my finger down the middle of his chest, along the ridges of his abs, and stopped just shy of erupting another round of wild fire. I spread my hand across his lower belly.

  “Open it,” I encouraged.

  Austin did as I asked and soon he was holding the item in his palm, eyeing it with confusion. “A key chain. And a key.”

  “Not just any keychain,” I explained, picking it up and displaying it for him. “It’s the Maryland flag. So you’ll always know where home is.” I tilted the keychain back and forth. “We do have the best fucking flag. All the other states are jealous. Especially Nevada. The Nevada flag is a lame ass flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

  Austin chuckled. “Okay. A keychain so I remember to come home. And the key?” He turned to look at me.

  “That is the key to the greatest treasure known to man. Of course.”

  He plucked the key chain out of my hand and twirled it around his finger. “Really? And what is that treasure?”

  I tilted my head to press a kiss to his chest. “I guess you’ll have to come back home to find out, won’t you?”

  “I guess I will.” He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

  He stayed for another hour, kissing and touching me. When he left, he took the key chain with him.

  The next morning, Austin boarded a plane to Vegas, his key chain tucked into his luggage, never knowing that he was leaving behind more than either of us had ever expected.

  ***

  This week was going to suck dirty donkey balls. It was only day one, and I was already crawling out of my skin with boredom and anxiety, which was a nasty combination for someone like me who needed lots of physical exertion to stay sane on normal days.

  Jimmy called this morning to tell me that after visiting Nana, Austin had stopped by his house. Our house.

  I had a massive panic attack before Jimmy assured me that Austi
n hadn’t gone inside and that the only thing they’d done last night was stop by the race track where I worked before going out for beers.

  When Austin told me he wanted to visit Nana, it never occurred to me that he would stop by my home, although it should have. He knew there was something I wasn’t telling him and I’d been naive to believe he’d just let it go. But on the flip side, it wasn’t like I could have lied about where Nana was. She deserved to see Austin as much as he deserved to see her.

  And now Austin was on his way to Los Angeles to visit his parents and sister for a few days. Jimmy told me that that this morning and I’d been shocked. Austin hadn’t told me he was going to be gone all week, but then again, I hadn’t exactly earned the right to know. How could I expect him to confide in me when I was still keeping so many secrets of my own?

  The terrifying thing was that the longer I kept my secrets, the harder it would be to tell him. And I began to wonder if I would ever work up the courage to confess. As the summer wore on, it was becoming clear that I might just be coward enough to disappear again along with my unsaid confessions.

  I should have been relieved that Austin was gone so that I could clear my mind and focus on finishing the update to the house, but all I kept seeing were the now empty spots in my day that Austin had so easily filled in the last few weeks. There was no one to ride with me on the trails, and although I was used to riding by myself and had done it hundreds of times, I’d quickly gotten used to having him along the last few days. Now it felt lonely instead of just solitary.

  The nights were even worse than the days. Over the years, being separated from Austin had almost been like going to rehab. I was a recovering Austin-aholic, and now that I once again had a taste of his music, a few stolen kisses, and his quiet strength, all I could think about was the moment when I would get my next hit of any one of those things.

  I was quite aware that I was on a downward spiral of self-destruction, and I had no desire to pull the ripcord on my emotional parachute. I was going down in flames and happy to do it.

  Which was probably why I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of the Bowlen Correctional Institution. My father’s current home.

  Why was I here? I wasn’t sure if I knew the answer to that. I used to visit all the time with Nana when I was in high school, but I hadn’t been back to see my dad since I moved to Texas. My brothers refused to visit him. They all thought he was a worthless bum.

  They weren’t wrong. He was an epic failure as a father.

  But I’d made mistakes and difficult choices too, and there was a part of me that would always love my dad despite his shortcomings. There was a part of me that was hoping he could be the daddy I’d always wanted and that he’d have some way, some poignant advice to magically fix all my mistakes.

  I glanced at my watch to find that 3:30 p.m. registration for visiting hours had begun, and unless I planned to turn around and drive back home like a coward, it was time to pull up my big girl panties and go inside.

  The pavement was hot as I crossed the parking lot into the shadow of the main entrance. I went through security in a daze, the familiarity of the action making me feel like I was twelve years old again. I swallowed back the bitterness I felt. No child should ever have to go through a minefield of correctional officers or sign paperwork just to spend time with their father. Jimmy was right. Our father was a loser.

  But he was still my loser.

  As I sat at the small round table in the visiting hall and waited for Jimmy DiGorgio Sr. to be escorted to see me, I suddenly realized I didn’t know what I was going to talk to him about. There was a very good possibility that we might just spend the next hour or so staring at one another.

  That should be fun.

  When the door on the other side of the room opened, and I saw my father enter, a sudden rush of nerves fluttered around in my stomach. He walked across the room wearing an orange jumpsuit with an officer at his side. Once he was seated with me, the officer stepped away to give us the illusion of privacy.

  There was never privacy in a room full of inmates, sad loved ones, and video cameras, but we both pretended we were alone and pulled on our familiar roles of doting father and loving daughter. We both knew it was an illusion, but I played along because it was easier to pretend than admit the truth…that he hadn’t loved us enough to be a better man.

  My father sat down in his chair, one of his charming grins modeled perfectly like he was set to do a toothpaste commercial. His hair was starting to gray at the temples, making him appear distinguished, as out of place in a prison jumpsuit as a wolf would look in a tuxedo.

  “Frankie,” he said, reaching forward to grab one of my hands between both of his. “It’s been a while, baby doll. I’ve missed you.”

  I had both the urge to fall into his arms for a hug and flinch away in disgust. It seemed my feelings for my dad were as two-sided as he was.

  “You look good, Dad,” I said. And he did. If it weren’t for the orange uniform and our surroundings, he’d look like he was ready to sit down for a meeting with co-workers in some fancy office somewhere.

  He shrugged, taking the compliment in stride. “Good genetics,” he said with a wave. “I mean, it’s certainly not as nice as Texas in here.”

  I tried to hide my surprise at his barb but failed.

  “You didn’t want me to know?” he asked smugly, releasing my hand.

  I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest like that would somehow protect me from his questions. “No, it’s not that. I just…how did you know?” I knew none of my brothers would have bothered to tell him.

  He chuckled and gave me another one of his charming smiles. “My kids might not want to visit me, but my mother did.” He quirked an eyebrow at me.

  My cheeks flushed hotly, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to silence me.

  “I’m not blaming you. I know I haven’t earned the right to know what goes on in your life, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know. Nana told me you’d moved to Texas to live with Jimmy, but she never told me why. I’d always expected you to end up wherever that next-door neighbor boy was. What was his name?” he asked, tapping his chin with his finger. “Augie? Aubrey?”

  “Austin.” My voice was curt as I corrected him and the answering grin my father gave me told me that I’d just given him more information than I’d meant to. Not the name. No, he probably already knew that. But my dad had the ability to read people and discern more information than they intended to hand over. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father had read every single one of my secrets in my expression alone.

  “Right. Austin. Nice boy. Nana always liked him. Whatever happened to him?” he pressed.

  I wasn’t here to talk about Austin. Not directly at least. And suddenly I knew what it was I did want to talk about. “Do you ever regret it?” I asked, abruptly changing the subject. My father’s eyes widened in surprise, and I continued. “Do you regret not being there for us as we grew up? Do you regret all the time you missed with Mom? She loved you, you know.”

  He nodded his head, his gaze going soft. “I know. I loved her, too.” He wasn’t angry or defensive. Just accepting. Like he knew he’d never had any right to my mother’s love, but he’d stolen it anyway, just like he’d stolen so many other things that didn’t belong to him.

  “Well…do you? Do you ever feel bad? Would you go back and do things differently if you had the chance?” This was a question I’d asked myself a million times. If given a second chance and knowing what I did now, would I still have listened to Chantel that day in the coffee shop? What would have happened if I had decided to walk into the Venetian instead of walking away from it? How would things have been different? Would I have ruined Austin’s life and Dallas’s too?

  My father pressed his lips together and leaned forward with his fingers entwined together on the table top as he considered my question. “I don’t regret falling in love with your mother. I know that I
wasn’t the father that she’d hoped I’d be, but if I hadn’t fallen in love with her, you wouldn’t exist. Neither would your brothers. And despite what you might think of me, I think the world is a better place with you in it.”

  He had a good point. Most days I thought I was pretty awesome. But that still didn’t answer my question.

  “But would you choose differently?” I asked again. “You had so many chances to make the right choice. If you could go back to any of those moments would you choose to do the right thing? Do you ever regret taking things that didn’t belong to you?” I needed to hear him say that he regretted it. Because deep down I was beginning to think that maybe we were both poison, destined to hurt the ones we loved the most. I had the sudden need to hear him say he would do the right thing now if given the chance. If there was hope for him, there was hope for me.

  He took a deep breath and gave me a sad look. “I regret not being the father you wanted or the husband your mother hoped I could be,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder. “I regret that my actions made others suffer. But truthfully? I regret getting caught.” He chuckled. “If I could change one thing, I’d change the fact that I wasn’t better at what I did. If I hadn’t been caught, both of our lives would have been different.”

  I stared at him, unblinking, as I felt my wish for the right answer crumble to dust like the last log in a bonfire.

  He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done. He felt no remorse for leaving our family broken. He only lamented the fact that he hadn’t gotten away with his crimes. And the fact that he couldn’t even lie about it was like having cold water tossed over my head.

  For the first time, I could see past all the charm and good looks and see him for what he truly was. Selfish. He might have loved my mom, and my brothers and me, but he hadn’t loved us enough to the do the right thing.