Echoes of the Heart

by Casey, L. A.

  “I’ve never believed in fate so I’m not gonna start now.”

  My eyes found his. “A few hours ago you told me we were done forever.”

  “That was before you told me . . . told me why you don’t know your songs.” He licked his lips. “I jumped the gun, Frankie. I didn’t stop to think about why you didn’t know them, I just reacted to the fact that you didn’t know them. The pain I felt consumed me. I thought . . . I really thought you blocked them out . . . blocked me out because . . . because . . .”

  “Because you thought I was trying to erase you?” I finished. “Trying to forget you?”

  At his nod, my heart clenched.

  “Risk, I meant what I said. Erasing you would mean erasing myself. I could never do it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, looking simply defeated. “On Saturday I told you that you’re my muse, I asked if you heard my songs and you said you downloaded every album.”

  “The instrumentals,” I explained. “I was too scared to buy the studio albums.”

  “Cherry . . . we really need to talk about everything.”

  “Right now?” I asked. “Because I really just want to go home and go to sleep.”

  “I can’t wait—”

  “You broke ma nose, ye fuckin’ bastard!”

  I grabbed hold of Risk’s arms when his entire body tensed the second Owen spoke.

  “Don’t! All he has is his strength, hitting us is his only weapon. Hitting you, hitting me . . . it’s all he has.”

  Risk didn’t move, he just kept his eyes on my face. On the fresh cut above my eyebrow to the fading bruise on my cheek.

  “You didn’t hurt your face accidentally last week, did you?”

  I wasn’t keeping any more secrets from him.

  “No,” I sniffled. “Owen hit me because I refused to tell you that he wanted to see you.”

  Risk’s eyes closed and he was so tense that when he clamped his teeth together, his jaw popped. I felt him tremble with rage.

  “I couldn’t tell you,” I whimpered. “I couldn’t because I knew you’d do this and you’re better than this, better than him.”

  “Maybe I’m not!” Risk shouted, reaching out and taking hold of my arms. “Maybe I’m not, Frankie. Did it ever occur to you that I’m nothing? That you put me on a pedestal? That maybe I’m just a fucking junkie who can sing?”

  Each word he spat felt like a slap in the face.

  “No, none of that has ever occurred to me because it’s not fucking true!”

  Risk looked weak, like life was suddenly too much for him.

  “Believe me,” I pleaded. “You are a million times the man he is. You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for. So much more.”

  I leaned in and rested my head against his.

  “You need to let him go, all he and Freda did to you . . . it all needs to be let go. He should suffer with the weight of what he did, not you. Never you.”

  Risk got to his feet and helped me to mine, I held tightly on to his arm and both Jacob and Tobias stepped forward, just in case Risk attacked Owen, but he didn’t. He simply stood and stared his abuser down. Owen had managed to get himself to his feet and was using the rail to support his weight.

  “You hit her because you wanted to see me . . . why?”

  “I . . . I raised ya,” he sputtered. “Ye have yer life because of me and my Freda!”

  “I had a roof over my head because of you two, but I never had a life. You controlled me, beat me and tried to break me from the time I was five years old.”

  Owen tried to string a sentence together but couldn’t; he likely didn’t know what to say to the truth when he couldn’t physically beat the person down like he had done to me, like he had once done to Risk.

  “You’re nothing!” Risk bellowed at him. “Nothing. I used to cower at your feet like a scared dog. I begged my girl to keep your twisted secret. Your secret, not mine. What you did to me was your shame but I’ve been carrying it as my own all these years but I’m fucking done. You no-good waste of flesh. I’m done with anything to do with you. You’ll have no part of me, my mind and soul are free of you, you pathetic bastard.”

  Owen lifted a shaking hand to his severely broken, gushing-with-blood nose.

  “Turn around and leave.” Risk stepped forward. “Leave this town. Get the fuck out of Southwold. If you don’t, I’ll go public and tell everyone what an abusive, fat pussy you are. I’ll wreck Freda’s memory and expose her as a cruel, heartless cunt to those who hold her dear . . . I swear, Owen. I’ll ruin you way worse than you thought you ever ruined me.”

  Owen was bobbing his head up and down, then just like that he turned and hurried away from Risk, from me, from Southwold, as fast as his legs could carry him down the pier. This was going to be the last time I ever saw Owen Day. The second I saw Risk put the fear of God into his eyes with his threat of exposing him to the residents of Southwold, I knew it was enough to send him running. Owen was a pathetic man who valued others’ opinions of him, that’s why Risk’s threat hit home. He didn’t care that he could be arrested for child abuse, neglect and other things . . . he was scared that his friends and neighbours would know that he wasn’t a poor, sweet widower who once fostered children out of the goodness of his heart.

  No, they would learn the truth and that terrified Owen Day more than a prison cell ever would.

  “Risk.” I stepped forward. “You did it . . . you beat him.”

  Risk whirled to face me and with a choked sob, he enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug that, after years of pain, held nothing but relief and justice in its embrace. He held me for a long time but when we separated and I took a step back so I could stare up at him, my heart ached painfully. I looked into the eyes I loved . . . and I didn’t recognise them.

  “You’ve taken more, haven’t you?” I asked. “More drugs?”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t lie to me.” I warned. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  His jaw jumped around and his eyes were wild.

  “I had a couple more lines of coke . . . that’s it.”

  Half a line of that poison was more than enough.

  “Where is Chris?” I asked. “He is your manager! He should stop you from doing this.”

  “That arsehole is sacked, Frankie.”

  I turned and looked at May with wide eyes. “What?”

  “Tob told us that he grabbed you and shoved you into a fucking wall, and about the things he said to you,” Hayes said, his body rigid. “He’s done.”

  I looked back at Risk. “You guys fired him?”

  “He spoke down to you and put his hands on you,” Risk practically growled. “Of course we sacked him, he’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  I couldn’t say I felt any love lost for the man, something about him rubbed me the wrong way from the second I clapped eyes on him.

  “You guys need a manager. You have to go back to rehab, Risk. Someone has to deal with all of that,” I told him. “Your body isn’t used to taking that stuff anymore, you’ll kill yourself. You have to go back.”

  “Please. I’m fine.” He pressed his body to mine. “Don’t send me away again. We can fix what happened tonight at the gig. Okay? We can fix it, Frankie. We’ll get a new manager and me and you will be okay again.”

  Denial. He was in denial.

  “Risk, you need to go back to rehab.” I lifted my hands to his face. “You need to get clean again.”

  “I can handle this,” he swore. “It’s only a couple of lines.”

  I couldn’t believe he was trying to talk me round to being okay with him using.

  “D’you want me in your life?”

  “You are my life.”

  I lifted my chin. “Then go back to rehab and get clean.”

  Risk’s eyes darkened. “Or what?”

  “Or tonight will be the last time we ever see one another.”

  Risk’s lips parted, he looked like I just told
him the world was ending.

  “Why d’you keep doing this to me?” he asked, the hurt in his tone weighed heavily on my shoulders. “Why do you keep doing what I never thought you would?”

  “What am I doing? What have I done?”

  “You’re sending me away.”

  I froze.

  “You weren’t supposed to send me away!” He shook. “Never you!”

  I couldn’t speak. His arms dropped limp to his sides. Tobias, Jacob, May, Hayes and Angel were standing a few metres away watching us, listening to every word we spoke.

  “May and Hayes became my friends because their mums told them to play with me when we were in reception. I know they love me, but I wasn’t their choice for a friend. I wasn’t Owen and Freda’s choice for a foster kid, I wasn’t a choice for any family who met with me to adopt me. I wasn’t wanted, I was no one’s choice . . . until you.”

  A sob left my mouth.

  “You wanted me just for me.” His eyes were glazed over with tears. “Before I was Risk Keller, I was your rock star. You showed me what it feels like to be loved so completely, you showed me what it’s like to be in a family. You were everything to me, Frankie . . . and you sent me away. Just like everyone else. You sent me away.”

  I knew he was going to turn and walk away from me and I knew that if I left him, there would never be a chance for us to be anything to one another, not even friends. Before he had a chance to move, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his middle. I squeezed him so tight, I heard his breath catch.

  “You would have resented me,” I said, my throat hurting from the need to cry. “You would have given everything up for me, I knew you would have. I couldn’t live with being the person who dimmed your light, Risk. I broke my own heart when I ended us.”

  I held on to him tightly when his hands touched my back and gripped tightly on to my T-shirt.

  “You didn’t believe in us, Frankie,” he said. “Not like I did.”

  I looked up at him. “I believed in us more than anything in this world, but can you look me in the eye and tell me that you would have lived the life you have knowing I was here in Southwold? Would you have settled for seeing me a few times a year or would you have given everything up just to be with me?”

  “So what if I would have given it up?” he demanded, his jaw clenched with anger. “Who fucking cares about Blood Oath?”

  “You do. I do.” I lifted my hands up to his face. “I couldn’t make you choose, honey. No matter how much I wanted to tell you to forget it all and stay with me forever.”

  He froze. “You wanted to tell me that?”

  “Risk,” I whispered, rubbing my thumbs over his cheeks. “I talked myself out of it every day for six months after you left. I wanted to get on a plane and go to you. I cried myself to sleep countless nights because I hurt for you. I loved you so much, rock star . . . I still do. I love you, Risk.”

  The tears that had gathered in his blue eyes fell.

  “I love you more than anyone has ever loved another person . . . but we don’t work, honey. We don’t. Look at you. Look at me. Look at the hurt we have put one another through.”

  Risk’s eyes were wild, he couldn’t make them focus.

  “Why can’t we work?” he rasped. “You’re the only woman I want. Only you.”

  And I only wanted him . . . but I couldn’t have him. I couldn’t.

  “Not like this.” I shook my head. “We can’t be together like this. I’m still needed here in Southwold; my mum still needs me.”

  “I need you too, Frankie.”

  “And I need you, honey . . . but not like this.”

  He said nothing.

  “Look at me.”

  His eyes found mine.

  “When you first left, it broke me. I mean that literally, I was devastated. I need you to know that . . . that I had a coping mechanism of my own to help me get through it. You had your music and I had diary entries, you could say . . . only they were text messages . . . that I sent to you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve sent messages, God, hundreds of them over the years to your old phone number. ‘Talking’ to you helped me, it was therapeutic for me. I’m going to do something I never thought I would do, I’m going to forward every single one of them to your new number just so you can see that I could never have erased you. You’ve always been with me even when you weren’t, you were always on my mind, always in my heart.”

  I turned when Angel held out my bag.

  “Thank you, sweetie.”

  I dug out my phone and with shaking hands, I went into my messages and group selected every single text then I forwarded them to Risk’s new number.

  “It might take a while for them all to come through, there are a lot of them. I want you to read through them all then sit down and think about what you want from your life.”

  Risk was stunned into silence.

  “This is your choice.” I lifted my free hand to his face. “Get clean again and we can try and figure out a way where we can be completely honest with one another so any relationship we have can stand a chance. That is the only way this will work, Risk. Get clean or this right here . . . it’s goodbye. A final goodbye. Make your decision, rock star.”

  I turned and walked away. Risk didn’t call my name or chase me. He remained at the pier’s end with my words hanging in the air, and with every single step I took, I felt Risk Keller’s eyes on me as I merged into the clouded fog that had descended upon Southwold.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  RISK

  Eight days later . . .

  “You can’t keep doing this, main man.”

  I exhaled and a white cloud of smoke filled the space between myself and May.

  “Says who?”

  “Me, dicknose. That’s who.”

  I snorted. “You gonna kick me out?”

  “I’ll kick you out and kick the shit outta you along the way.”

  I took another drag of my joint then held it towards Angel who took it from me. May glared his way as he smoked.

  “You’re enabling him.”

  “I’m smoking weed with him.” Angel rolled his eyes. “I’ve smoked for years. I’d rather him smoke this than take coke or shoot up.”

  My eyes fluttered shut at the thought of heroin. I had only taken it once and it was the time when I accidentally overdosed, but I remembered how it made me feel. I wanted that sensation of bliss then numbness to take over my body and mind so I could escape the torment I felt. I wanted to feel nothing ever again. I wanted to be numb to everything in my life, the good and the bad.

  “It’s been a week since shit hit the fan in Wembley,” May said. “We got through the other two concerts, just about. Nolan and our team of publicists are still doing damage control. Everyone knows Risk has relapsed, it’s all anyone wants to fucking talk about.”

  I opened my eyes and laughed. “No one gives a fuck about me, it’s just—”

  “We give a fuck about it, puta!” Angel snapped. “I’m supposed to be back in LA right now celebrating my baby sister’s eighteenth birthday, but I’m here with your stupid ass because I know if you get past May and Hayes, you’re going straight for the hard stuff.”

  I said nothing, I stared at a spot on the wall.

  “You need to accept that you’ve relapsed,” May leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve snorted coke, drank a fuck tonne and I know you got one of the guys to get you pills to help you sleep. When I find out which one, he’s gone.”

  Again, I said nothing.

  “We’re going back to LA—”

  “I’m not going fucking anywhere.”

  Angel snapped at me in Spanish. I didn’t know what the words meant, but I assumed he was calling me an arsehole in a colourful way. I reached for the joint but he stubbed it out in an ashtray, glaring at me while he did it.

  “Risk,” May snagged my attention. “The facility in LA helped you before, it’ll help yo
u again.”

  At the mention of rehab, my fingers lifted to fiddle with my coin on my necklace, but they touched nothing but skin. I remembered I tore it off and threw it at Frankie, a wide-eyed, heartbroken, crying Frankie. The pain in my chest whenever I thought of her made me hurt enough to want to puke. I needed to block her out. I fucked up so bad that I knew I couldn’t fix it so I had to find an escape. I needed to use.

  “I can’t leave Southwold.”

  “We shouldn’t have fucking come back here,” Angel stated. “We shouldn’t have let you talk us into it. We should have stayed in London, not here. This place, that woman . . . she fucking rules you. Look at you because of her.”

  “Don’t put his actions on Frankie,” May warned Angel. “He’s hurt her just as much as she’s hurt him. The only difference,” his eyes cut to mine, “is that she never went out of her way to break his heart like he has done to her.”

  I felt an inch big as May projected an expression of disgust and disappointment my way. He has looked at me many ways before but he had never looked at me with such indifference. He was my best friend, he always had my back even when I didn’t deserve it, but it looked like he wasn’t making excuses for me anymore.

  “You guys should go back to LA,” I shifted. “I’ll sort myself out here.”

  Both men scoffed, not believing me.

  “You’re a selfish prick,” Angel sneered. “The only thing you’ll do if we leave is use. You don’t give a fuck about us and I’m sick of it. Everything is about precious baby boy Risk, isn’t it? If you suffer, we all suffer, right? It’s all about fucking you.”

  I jumped up from the bed. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Hell no, bitch,” Angel shot to his feet too. “You think you’re a tough guy, you think I won’t beat the shit out of you just because I love you?”

  My voice was tight with emotion.

  “Fuck you,” I bellowed. “Don’t love me. Just hate me, everything will be fucking easier.”

  “It’ll be easier for who?” Angel snapped. “You? If you think we hate you, it’ll be easier to use because you think we won’t hurt, is that it?”

  That was exactly it.

  “I don’t need this,” I shook my head, feeling like the room was closing in on me. “I’m not a fucking child, I won’t be beaten into what I don’t wanna do anymore. I don’t live under his thumb, you can’t break me like he did.”