by Casey, L. A.
“Why are you doing this to me? You’re my girl, why’re you pushing me away?”
My chin quivered. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t have to. You’re the first person I have ever loved, you’re the first person I have said those words to in my entire life. You reached me before May and Hayes could, before music could. I thought you loved me, Cherry.”
“I do love you! I’ll love you my whole life,” I whispered. “I promise.”
“You couldn’t keep your first promise . . . what makes this one so special?”
The tone in Risk’s voice changed, it suddenly turned emotionless and when I looked up into his eyes, it was like I could see him building up a wall protect himself from further hurt . . . to protect him from me.
“I wish things were different.”
He licked his lips. “So that’s it?”
I couldn’t move.
“I . . . I guess it is. You have to go.”
“Everyone in my life has sent me away. My mum sent me away when she picked drugs over me, all those families I went on visits to sent me away when they didn’t want to adopt me, Owen and Freda drove me away when I was no longer in the system and couldn’t earn them money . . . I never ever thought you would send me away, too.”
My heart shattered as Risk took one step back from me and then another, I sobbed a little more with each one.
“Risk, please.”
His jaw clenched. “What?”
“Please,” I whimpered. “Just . . . just . . . kiss me before you go.”
I thought I would have to beg him, but I didn’t.
The words were barely out of my mouth when he surged forward and wrapped me in his embrace. We were soaked to the bone, but it didn’t seem to matter when he lowered his head and his lips met mine in a furious passion. I lifted my hands to his soaking hoodie and pulled him as hard against me as I could. Our kiss was filled with broken promises, unimaginable hurt, heartfelt love and the brutal reality that this was likely the last one we would ever share.
I didn’t want the kiss to end, but, like all good things, it did.
“I’ll keep your mum in my prayers,” Risk said against my lips before he took a step back and lifted his hand to wipe away the rainwater on his face. “I’ll come by tomorrow when you’re at work and I’ll get all of my stuff. The rent money for this month is in an envelope under the mattress on my side of the bed. Make sure you always have your inhaler . . . your prescription needs to be refilled next week. Don’t forget.”
I choked out the word, “Okay.”
Risk bowed his head. “Take care of yourself, Cherry.”
“Keep chasin’, rock star.”
I had always told him that. No matter what life threw at him, I always told him to keep chasing his dreams.
Without a word, Risk turned and walked away from me, I had to force my legs not to run after him. I lifted my hand that still clenched my inhaler and inhaled a couple of puffs of my medicine. I wasn’t sure if I was about to have an attack or not. I felt horrendous pain in my chest, but I didn’t know if it was because I was struggling to breathe or because I had just forced the love of my life to walk away from me. All I knew was I was hurting, and watching Risk disappear from view was like someone stabbed a blade into my chest and twisted it.
Somehow, I turned around and began walking. I was replaying my conversation with Risk over and over in my mind and I couldn’t see a way that it could end where he didn’t have to give up everything he had ever dreamed of to stay with me in Southwold. I knew in my heart that that was the direction things would have headed for us. Risk loved me most in the entire world and there was nothing on God’s green earth that he wouldn’t give up to be with me. That included his dream of being a successful musician. I wasn’t going to be the person who killed his dream.
I refused.
I ended up at my front door without realising I had been walking home. When I got inside and closed the door behind me, the silence in my home was deafening. I began to strip out of my clothes where I stood. The sound of the sopping wet fabric smacking against the floor was barely audible because a new sound filled the silence. My crying. I couldn’t believe what had just taken place. I had broken up with Risk . . . with my Risk. Nothing in my life was the same as it had been a week ago.
Everything was different now.
My home, my town, my mum, my life, me.
All of it had been flipped on its head. I had to actively live without the relationship that my new adult life had been built around. It hurt. God, it hurt. I felt like I couldn’t breathe past the pain, yet I continued to breathe. I was somehow surviving even though on the inside I crumbled to nothingness. When I woke up that morning, I had no idea that my world could be turned inside out again. Just like the snap of my fingers, the life I planned to have was snatched away from me and the worse thing about it all . . . everything that led to right now was my decision.
Naked and shivering, I turned on the lights inside my home then I walked into my bedroom. I sat at my vanity table and stared into the mirror, wondering how I could look exactly the same, but feel so changed inside. The life I had planned with Risk was nothing more than a pipe dream now. The path we had walked together for so long had now become divided and I was quickly finding out that the road I was on was a one-way street. I couldn’t make a U-turn and go back to the start because that time had come and gone.
Risk was following his journey to stardom and it was a path I knew in my heart that he would succeed in reaching the end of. Risk, and his talent, were too big for our small town and much too big for me. Letting him go was my gift to him and though he didn’t understand that now I knew someday that he would. I was freeing him from a life that bound and constricted someone like him, someone who was born to take the world by storm. Someone who gave so much to people with his voice that his very presence would bring them happiness. I knew that because he and his voice brought me happiness for a very long time.
He would be okay, I knew he would be . . . me on the other hand, I would have to remember to put one foot in front of the other and tell myself to breathe. I would go to my quiet place where nothing was wrong. Mum wouldn’t be sick, Risk wouldn’t be leaving and I would be calm, collected and happy. All I had to do was remember to breathe.
In and out and in and out.
Just keep breathing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FRANKIE
Present day . . .
Three in the morning.
I found myself walking along Southwold pier after just arriving from London. When I fled the dressing room, Tobias followed me. He took a taxi with me back to Risk’s townhouse and saw me safely to my car, which was parked in Risk’s driveway. Tobias tried to convince me to sleep on my decision to walk away from Risk, but he and I both knew the only thing that would help Risk was me being far away from him. What happened a few hours ago could have been avoided if only we both were completely honest with each other.
Risk . . . he wouldn’t have relapsed and I wouldn’t be so broken.
It was nearing midnight when I left London, and I reached Southwold just as it turned 3 a.m.. I couldn’t go home, not yet. I needed to be out in the open so I could breathe. I was having trouble processing what had happened. I didn’t understand how a wonderful night had turned into such a pitiful nightmare. I kept replaying the look on Risk’s face when he realised I didn’t know his songs . . . or my songs. He wrote songs for me . . . and I didn’t know them.
That knowledge hurt me so I knew it killed him.
“He looked devastated,” I murmured as I walked along the wooden boards of the pier. “I made him feel that way.”
I believed what I had said right before I fled Wembley . . . I wasn’t right for him.
We weren’t good together. I really didn’t know if we were meant to be because we had only been back in one another’s lives for a week and the level of shit that had kicked off was unbelievable. It was a ba
d omen if I had ever seen one. I sniffled, used the sleeve of my coat to wipe my nose. The top of it was sore from blowing and rubbing it so much with tissue on the drive from London. I knew it was likely scorched red.
I wrapped my arms around my middle and walked. I could hear the crashing sound of the waves under the pier and I could hear laughter and singing from somewhere up the beach. The pubs would have recently closed for the night so people tended to wander around town a little before they headed home. I paid them no mind. I walked all the way to the end of the pier like I usually did and my heart jumped when I saw a large man leaning against the rail at its end.
He heard me approach and when he turned my gut twisted.
“Owen.”
“Frankie,” he said, sounding surprised to see me. “Bit late for ye to be wanderin’ along the pier, isn’t it? All alone too.”
I looked around the empty pier and the space where I normally found solace suddenly felt like it was a bottomless pit. The small buildings along it were closed and, apart from myself and Owen, the place was devoid of people.
“I didn’t think anyone would be down here.” I shifted. “Like you said, it’s late.”
“And yet here ya are.”
I exhaled a breath. “It’s funny, because I was just about to leave.”
“Hold your horses.” He rolled his eyes. “No need to run off.”
I had every need to run off. I knew better than to be left alone with such a cruel, weak man who solved his problems with his fists when it came to women and children.
“How’s your mum?”
I didn’t move a muscle.
“If you say a word against her, Owen . . .”
He looked out at the ocean as my threat hung in the air.
“I’m not that heartless,” he said. “I know how it feels to watch someone you love die day by day until they’re gone.”
My throat nearly closed up.
“I have enough on my mind right now,” I rasped. “I don’t need you reminding me that my mum is dying.”
I didn’t need anyone reminding me of something that was always at the back of my mind.
Owen shrugged. “I heard somethin’ happened with yerself and the boy tonight . . . some just barely legal kids were in the pub yappin’ on about it. Some rubbish about a concert.”
I tensed. I shouldn’t have been surprised that what happened was public knowledge but I was. “What happened is no one’s business.” I glared at him. “Especially not yours.”
Owen pushed away from the rail.
“You and the boy have had some huge fallin’ out and ya still jump t’his defence?”
“Always.” I straightened. “He could hang me out to dry, Owen, and I would always defend him from you. I didn’t do it when I was child, I should have, but I didn’t. I swear to God that I’ll do it from now until the day I die. You’ll never get to say so much as ‘boo’ to him if I have any say about it.”
Owen tilted his head.
“Ye didn’t tell him I wanted to see him, did ya?”
The gall of this man truly astounded me.
“I told you I wouldn’t!” I snapped. “I told you.”
“And I fuckin’ told you t’give ’im that message.”
“Well, I didn’t give it and I won’t.” I lifted my chin. “I don’t care that you hit me or if you do it again. He doesn’t owe you a fucking thing, Owen. You owe him!”
The lighting on the pier wasn’t brilliant, but it was enough for me to see Owen’s meaty face turn a repulsive, angry purple. He took a step towards me but stumbled slightly. I frowned.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Yeah,” Owen shrugged. “I just came from a lock-in at the pub, so what?”
He didn’t sound drunk, he didn’t slur his words but I saw in his eyes when he moved closer that he was intoxicated, the evidence was in his steps too.
“You could tip yourself over that rail right there and drown,” I shook my head. “Go on home, Owen.”
“Why?” he asked. “No one’s waitin’ for me there.”
I stood aghast. Was this no-good, child-abusing utter waste of flesh feeling sorry for himself? After all of the hurt he had put Risk through during his life? Was he actually serious?
“And whose fault is that?” I tilted my head, fury shooting up and down my veins. “Whose fault is it that no one in your life wants to be close to you? It’s your fault and you bloody well know it! You could have had a son in Risk, he would have come home to see you, to take care of you and Freda but you used and abused him because you’re a waste of space who—”
I screamed when Owen lurched forward quicker than I ever thought was possible. He reached out and used his large hand to grab a handful of my hair as he yanked my body towards his. The force of my body banging against his bloated belly knocked the breath out of me. My bag went skidding to the edge of the pier. Instinctively, I reached up with both of my hands and tried to pry my hair from Owen’s grip, but he was too strong so I switched tactics.
“No!” I banged my fists on his chest. “Let go! Get away from me!”
“Yer a smart-mouthed wee tramp.” He twisted his hand. “Thinkin’ ye can talk t’me whatever way ya like!”
He was roaring every word as if I was miles away instead of right in front of him.
“This is why I had those kids taken from you!” I screeched. “This is why! You cruel son of a bitch!”
The sound of his hand clattering against my face seemed to echo in the still of the night. I hit the decking of the pier floor with a sickening thud. I thought I heard shouting from up the pier, but I couldn’t turn to see what was going on because Owen yanked me back to my feet by my hair, pulling another scream from my throat. I could have sworn I heard my name being shouted, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain that swam around my head and throbbing face.
“I knew it was you!” he slobbered. “I fuckin’ knew it.”
“You’re fucking right it was me!” I reached up and dug my nails into his face. “I’d do it again and again and again!”
I yanked my hands down, my nails scratching crevices along Owen’s sweating, flushed skin. He released his hold on my hair as he shouted and raised both of his hands to his bloodied face. My scalp was burning but I didn’t dare lift my hand to inspect any possible damage, I kept my eyes trained on Owen as I pushed myself onto my knees.
“Frankie!”
I jerked my head to my left. I couldn’t see anyone because the pier’s small restaurant was in the way, but I’d know his voice from a million miles away. I had heard it in my dreams enough to recognise it at a whisper.
“Risk!”
I was in the middle of getting to my feet when Owen stepped forward and kicked me so hard in the stomach, I partially vomited. His hands were tangled in my hair again within seconds. He was speaking so fast that I couldn’t understand him but I got the gist of what he was implying. He wanted to hurt me or worse. I sucked in a breath when Owen’s body was speared from the side. He smacked into the railing of the pier and a creaking sound echoed. It took me a few seconds to realise what was happening, but when I did, I was beside myself. Risk was bent over Owen and he was beating him violently.
My screams could have been heard out on the ocean.
“Risk, please!” I pleaded. “He’s not worth it, he’s nothing. Risk, stop!”
He didn’t listen, the only reason he stopped was because Tobias and Jacob suddenly ran onto the pier’s end and both of them physically dragged Risk off a sobbing, and badly beaten, Owen Day. His face was covered in blood. It was a horrifying sight. Hayes, May and Angel rounded the corner of the restaurant; the three of them were breathing heavily.
“Frankie!”
May was in my space with his hands on my face in seconds.
“Your head.”
My head?
I lifted my hand to my forehead, just above my eyebrow, and hissed when stinging, throbbing pain registered. The slickness of
warm, wet liquid coated my fingers. I pulled my hand down and stared at the blood on it. Owen had cut me, but I had no idea when it occurred. The pain in my head was nothing compared to the hurt I felt in my stomach that had suddenly spread upwards to my chest. Owen’s kick was crippling and I knew I was in the grasp of an asthma attack before I realised it. I wheezed and looked around for my bag, panicking when I couldn’t find it.
I fell to my knees within seconds. My ears were ringing, my vision distorted and my feet were tingling. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, preventing me from taking in a deep breath.
“’haler,” I wheezed. “My . . . inhaler. Bag.”
“Fuck!’ May shouted. “She needs her inhaler, where’s her bag?”
“There!” Angel answered.
Before Angel could even finish speaking the head of an inhaler was pushed into my mouth. Instinctively, I inhaled the medicine, feeling more panicked, more unable to breathe than ever before. I heard Risk’s voice, but it was lost on me what he was saying as I closed my eyes and inhaled my medicine. The familiar taste of albuterol coated my tongue as I sucked it down my windpipe and held it for a few seconds within my expanded lungs. Four or five more puffs were delivered from my inhaler before the world around me slowly began to come back into focus.
I didn’t know how much time had passed.
“Frankie, look at me. Baby, eyes on me,” Risk’s voice prompted. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answered, still breathing heavily. “I can breathe now.”
“Thank Christ.”
His arms came around me and I felt him kiss the side of my face. I didn’t have the energy to hug him back, only to breathe. I was exhausted. I have never had an attack that scared me so deeply before, nor one that left me feeling so utterly drained.
“What are you doing out here, Frank?”
“I . . . I needed to think.” I looked at Risk. “Why are you here?”
“For you,” he answered. “You left London before I could blink.”
I looked down. “Risk . . . what happened tonight . . . it’s a sign that we’re not meant to be together.”