by Casey, L. A.
My face was on fire, it hurt so badly.
I kept touching my cheek and eye to make sure there was no blood to indicate that Owen had cut me. I found nothing, which was a relief, but only just. I could see perfectly okay out of my right eye, but my cheek bone under it felt massively swollen. The throbbing hurt so much worse than I ever thought being punched would. I found myself thinking of Risk, about how he had experienced this pain at Owen’s hand when he was only a kid, and it made me cry harder. I made it home and into my cottage, where I grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapped it in a tea-towel and placed it against my face.
I was too scared to even look in the mirror.
I looked down at my feet when a small body brushed against my shin, I reached down and picked up Oath, my eight-year-old ginger British Shorthair. I cuddled him then put him on the counter-top. I rubbed his head then put down my frozen peas so I could top up his food and water and clean out his litter tray. When I bagged up his dirt, I went outside and put it into the rubbish bin before returning inside and locking my front door. I went back into my kitchen and took two painkillers with some water before I filled my kettle up, put it on its stand and plugged it in.
I looked over my shoulder when a knock sounded at the door. I glanced at the clock and frowned, it was quarter to ten. I rarely had visitors, but none this late. I approached the front door cautiously and I said, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Frankie.” I stared at my door in silence. “Risk.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Then I huffed with annoyance because Risk Keller was standing on the other side of my door after everything he had said to me the night before. I couldn’t believe his nerve.
“Get lost, Keller.”
“Please, Frankie. I’ve come to apologise.” Risk pleaded his case. “How I treated you last night was horrible. I was wrong and I’m so sorry. I’d take it back in a second if I could, Cherry.”
The second he called me Cherry, my blood boiled as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Don’t call me Cherry.” I snapped, brushing my hair out of my face. “You don’t get to call me that when you hurt me like you did last night. What you did was horrible! Sorry isn’t good enough, Risk!” I glared. “You hurt me and you did it on purpose so don’t you dare act like—”
“Frankie, what the fuck happened to your face?”
I felt my lips part and my eyes widen when I remembered how I must have looked. Wordlessly, I tried to close the door in Risk’s face, but the stubborn idiot threw his body forward.
“Don’t you dare,” he warned, forcing the door open. “What happened to you?”
I stumbled back a few steps, staring up at Risk. I was gobsmacked. He was the last person I expected to be coming knocking on my door. My shock quickly melted away to anger when I remembered how he treated me the night before.
“None of your business, Keller.” I stated as I pointed past him. “Get out of my house. Now.”
“Fuck no,” he closed the door firmly behind him with his foot. “Your eye is bruised and so is your cheek, it’s red too and swollen as hell.”
I scowled at him before I turned and went back into my kitchen to grab my frozen peas. I removed them from the tea-towel, wiped away the water droplets and placed the bag against my face. It was freezing and brought much relief to my burning, throbbing cheek.
“I’m not dropping this.”
I grunted. “I walked into a door.”
“The fuck you did,” Risk stated. “Remember who you’re talking to, Frankie. You don’t get that big of a shiner from walking into a door.”
I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t an excuse that I could use that Risk wouldn’t see through. He had used every one in the book to hide his abuse at the hands of Owen and Freda over the years.
“Look at me, Frankie.”
“Risk,” I exhaled. “Just leave. I am none of your business so please, just go away.”
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked, ignoring what I said. “A boyfriend? Tell me. I’ll kill him.”
I looked at him and found him staring at me from the kitchen doorway, his hands were fisted and he looked as if any second steam would pour from his arms. I had no doubt that if I told him what happened then he would kill someone. Especially Owen. I couldn’t let that happen.
“The only person who hurt me” – I looked him up and down – “is you.”
He flinched.
“You’re right,” he swallowed. “I’m so sorry about the way I treated you, Frankie. I said horrible things to hurt you to get you back for hurting me.”
My jaw dropped. “What did I do?”
“You treated me like a stranger, Frankie. At the school, you looked right at me then just walked away . . . or ran.” He didn’t look away from me. “That shit hurt me coming from you.”
I dropped my gaze to my feet and stared at my tiled floor.
“I didn’t mean to,” I admitted. “I just . . . I just can’t believe you’re here, it’s really surprised me. I would never purposely set out to hurt you, Risk. You know I wouldn’t. I was just so shocked to see you.”
He sighed, long and deep.
“I was an arsehole.” I looked up as he lifted a hand to his head and ran it through his white-blond hair. “I was in my feelings about how you treated me at the school. I went to the diner and I treated you horribly to make myself feel better, but it didn’t work. I only felt worse. I’m so fucking sorry about how I treated you, Frankie. I swear I am. That wasn’t me . . . you know that wasn’t me.”
He was telling the truth.
That was one of the things I had always loved about Risk: when he told the truth, he didn’t just tell it with his words, his eyes told the truth too. He was looking so intently at me that it made my heart skip a beat. I quickly realised then that Risk Keller was standing in the entryway of my kitchen . . . a kitchen that used to be his too.
“If I forgive you,” I eyed him. “Will you promise to never treat me, or anyone, like that again? Acting all high and mighty doesn’t suit you, rock star.”
The second I called him his old nickname, his whole body practically deflated.
“I promise.”
“Then I forgive you.”
His shoulders sagged. “If I ever act like that again, I’ll bend over to make it easier for you to shove your foot up my arse.”
Surprise laughter left me, startling Oath, who was behind the kitchen door likely eating from his food dish. He darted around the door then out of the room between Risk’s legs. Risk jumped with fright at the sight of him and banged the crown of his head on the top of the door-frame. He cursed, placed both hands on the top of his head and hopped from side to side in pain. I hurriedly grabbed my foot stool from its hook on the wall, opened it up then placed it next to Risk on the floor. I stood on the top step of the stool and ended up being the same height as Risk.
“Let me see,” I said, trying to push his hands away. “Risk, drop your hands.”
“It hurts!”
“I know, you big baby.” I pushed his hands away. “Let me see.”
He dropped his hands and once I saw he wasn’t bleeding, I placed my bag of peas on his head. He hissed as he reached up and rotated the bag around, trying to kill the pain he felt. I hopped down from my stool, folded it back up and put it back on its hook on the wall.
“Just so you’re aware,” Risk grumbled. “That was possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of cute shit.”
My lips twitched.
“I’m five foot,” I shrugged. “I can’t reach the top cupboards so I need the foot stool.”
“Like I said,” Risk said. “Cutest shit ever.”
I shook my head. “D’you want a cuppa tea?”
“Yes, please,” Risk nodded. “Then we can sit down and you can tell me who hit you.”
Tell him that Owen Day hit me? Absolutely not. I could foresee what would ha
ppen if I did that. Risk would take it personally because of his history with Owen, he’d probably show up at his house and beat him unconscious, getting his revenge for all the pain he put him through, and there was only one place that would land Risk. Jail. No, I wasn’t telling him what happened to me. Not a chance.
“No one hit me,” I stressed. “I literally walked into a door leaving the hospice by not watching where I was going. I’m so tired I can barely stand upright, Risk. I do clumsy shit like this all of the time, only I’ve never gone and actually hurt myself to this extent before.”
“D’you promise?”
I felt a little sick when I said, “I promise.”
Risk nodded once. “Okay then, I believe you.”
It left a foul taste in my mouth lying to him, but it was for his own good.
“Thank you.” I busied myself with getting two cups of tea ready. “Oath. Come to Mummy, baby boy.”
Oath remained in my bedroom.
“Oath,” Risk repeated. “You called your cat Oath?”
“He has red hair,” I shrugged. “It seemed fitting to name him after Blood Oath.”
Risk snorted as he sat down at the kitchen table. “When did you get him?”
“Eight years ago,” I answered. “A neighbour couldn’t find a home for him. He was the runt of the litter, I fell in love with him when I saw his big electric blue eyes so I took him home with me. He’s been here ever since.”
“You always were a sucker for blue eyes.”
His more than anyone’s.
“Yup,” I played it cool. “He’s my ginger pal. He’s a scaredy cat though . . . kind of like you.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Risk protested mildly. “He just caught me off guard is all.”
I grinned, keeping my back to him.
“Okay, tough guy.”
I made our tea, turned and carried the cups over to the table, placing one on a coaster in front of me then the other in front of Risk. When I sat down and looked at Risk, I couldn’t pretend this was normal.
“This is so bloody weird.” I fidgeted with my hands. “I can’t believe you’re in my kitchen, drinking tea.”
Risk leaned back in the chair, letting his long legs stretch out. He glanced around with fondness, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“It feels smaller.”
“You probably just got taller.”
“Smart arse.” Risk grinned. “I haven’t grown an inch. I’m still six four.”
“I haven’t grown an inch either, I’m still five nothing.”
“I’ve gathered that, Frodo.”
“Don’t start with me, Gandalf!”
Risk’s amused smile made me laugh. The familiar teasing of one another’s height helped break the ice that we walked on. While it eased the tension, it couldn’t take away how bizarre it was to sit across from Risk while drinking a cup of tea. It was almost like not seeing each other for years wasn’t a big deal, but it was.
“I thought you had changed,” I said to him. “After last night, I thought you weren’t the person I knew.”
“I have changed. I’m just not cruel, you were right about that.” He nodded. “I’m still the same person in a lot of ways, I’ve just grown up.”
I guess I was in the same boat as him.
“Is it weird being back here?” I sipped my tea. “I bet it is, nothing has changed.”
“It’s so weird,” Risk shook his head. “It’s kind of scary how similar everything is, but it’s also really nice.”
“I bet.” I nodded. “I always loved that the only thing to change about Southwold were the faces.”
Risk glanced at my necklace then moved his eyes to the air box that was still on the wall. “Has your asthma improved any?”
I shook my head when he looked back at me.
He frowned. “I was hoping that was one thing that would change.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, touched he was somewhat concerned for my health. “My asthma is part of me, I honestly don’t know what life would be like without it.”
Risk ran his finger over the handle of his cup.
“How is your mum doing?”
“She’s in St Elizabeth Hospice right now,” I shifted. “She transferred from the hospital recently. She has pneumonia that is getting worse and worse. Her doctor said we’re in the end stages now.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Thank you,” I smiled politely. “I always knew this time would come, but now that it’s here, it feels like its crept up on me out of nowhere. Time really is no man’s friend.”
“Would be it okay for me to visit her?” Risk asked tentatively. “Your mum was always so great to me.”
“Um, sure.” I played with my fingers. “She won’t remember you, though. She doesn’t know who I am most days, Michael either.”
“Fuck, Frankie. I’m so sorry.”
He’d said that twice now.
“It is what is it.” I scratched my neck. “I’ve known for a long time that this was going to happen.”
We fell into a silence until Risk asked a question that seemed to bother him.
“Do you see them often?”
“Who?”
“Them.” Risk cracked his neck. “The people I lived with.”
I noted that he couldn’t even say Owen and Freda’s names and I didn’t blame him one bit. It probably left a foul taste in his mouth.
I cleared my throat. “I see Owen every now and then.”
“And her?”
“She died two years ago,” I replied, looking up. “Lung cancer.”
Risk looked shocked for a moment before he nodded once.
“Good.” He clenched his teeth. “I’m glad she’s dead.”
I frowned at him. “You shouldn’t be.”
“I shouldn’t be?” Risk repeated, gobsmacked. “Have you forgotten what happened to me in that house? By their hands?”
“No,” I answered calmly. “I haven’t, but I do know that you’re better than them. You always have been and living your life to the fullest is how to get your revenge on them. I wouldn’t be glad of anything for either of them, not the good or the bad. I wouldn’t give them a second of my time if I was you.”
Risk said nothing as he digested my words.
“They got three new kids not long after you left, but I made sure it didn’t last long.” I drank my tea. “I tipped off the police and the kids’ primary school, a dozen times. The kids were removed from the Days’ care a week after they arrived. An investigation was done soon after and, while neither of them went to prison, they did lose their license. They’ve never had another child to take care of since then.”
Risk’s jaw dropped and his eyes, there was a mixture of sadness and relief in his blue orbs.
“You wouldn’t let me do it for you,” I said, not waiting for him to ask why I did what I did. “I hated how you continued to live with them, I hated them both for the pain they put you through so when you left and they got new kids, there was no way I was sitting by anymore.”
“I didn’t think of them getting any more kids. Freda always said I’d be the last one.”
“They must have needed the money,” I guessed with a shrug. “We both know it’s the only reason they fostered in the first place.”
“What happened?” Risk asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the tabletop. “After the kids were removed from their care?”
“Nothing . . . well, except for Owen being furious with me.”
“You told him what you did?”
Risk’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“No, but he knows it was me,” I mused. “He asked enough times who gave filed complaints against him. I think he expected it to be you. But someone let it slip that a woman gave the information and he just guessed it was me. He can’t prove it though.”
Risk said nothing, he drank his tea in gulps and allowed my words to marinate.
“That man hates you because you’re successful,
rich and famous. He can’t stand that you have the life you do while he is still here in Southwold with nothing to show for his life. I’d live an even better life if I was you; just knowing your happiness kills him slowly is all the revenge in the world that you’d ever need.”
Risk swallowed and, suddenly, he didn’t look like the big tough, rock star that he was. He looked exactly like he did the day after his thirteenth birthday when I told him I knew what he was going through. Without a thought, I leaned across the table and took his hand in mine.
“He’s never going to hurt you again, you know?” I strummed my thumb over his skin. “He is a pathetic waste of space, and you . . . you’re a superstar who chased his dreams when the odds were stacked against him, just like I knew you would.”
Risk threaded his fingers through mine and held my hand.
“I’ve missed you, Frankie.” He looked at me. “I’ve thought about you throughout the years. I should have reached out to contact you to see how you were doing, to see how your mum was doing but, after I left, looking back just wasn’t an option. Not until now, at least.”
I understood exactly what he meant. I couldn’t think of our times together, I couldn’t even hear him sing, or see his face, if I could help it. Doing those things were the only way I could function so I got it.
“I get it,” I said. “Sometimes looking forward is the only way we can keep going.”
“D’you think we can be friends?” Risk suddenly asked. “I know after I eventually leave here I probably won’t be back for a while, but I’d like to be able to call you now and then to see how you are, you know? I miss talking to you.”
Tell him no, Frankie.
I wanted to tell him that we belonged in each other’s pasts. I wanted to tell him to leave and never come back . . . but I wanted to tell him to stay with me too. It terrified me just how happy sitting, drinking tea and talking to him made me feel. It gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a very long time and I didn’t want that feeling to go away. I didn’t want Risk to go away. The very thought of going back to how I lived before he came home scared me, hiding behind my earphones and following the same schedule day after day made me feel trapped.