RUMORS

by Bellus, HJ

  “Then go. We got her,” the female replies.

  “Her name is Frankie,” Dalton barks. “She’s not in a good state and I don’t want her waking up to strangers in her house, plus she’s a major suicide risk. She’ll need eyes on her at all times.”

  “We were never properly introduced, Dalton, but my name is Opal and I run a program back in Draxton Falls for abused teens. I’ve got this.”

  “Yes, she does,” Truckee grunts. “Opal will protect Frankie with all she has. I have no doubt.”

  “I will,” she agrees. “Rock Bottom Ranch has given me this outlet to help protect and heal hundreds of youth. I always give it my all.”

  I rustle around the couch knowing it’s time to make my presence known. Dalton was right about one thing and that’s waking up to strangers in my house would set me right into another panic attack. As much as I hate to admit it, having these people on my side ignites a positive spark low in my gut. I haven’t felt this way for years and years. But just as fast as the spark begins to flare, my reality slaps me across the face. I have no option and just need another plan.

  “Hey, Frankie, it’s Dalton, and I have some friends here with me.” He keeps his voice low and calm, reminding me how he held me after he saved me from a fall that would have broken bones in my body.

  I sit upright, tugging the hood of my hoodie tighter around my face and sinking my arms back into my sleeves. I manage to give him a nod letting him know I heard him.

  “Opal, here, is going to be your guardian until you turn eighteen in two weeks. She and Truckee will be here with you.” He pauses, staring right at me. I can’t help but look up at him, growing enticed by his dark, honey-colored eyes. This man will be my undoing because he makes me want to believe in the good. “When you’re ready, you need to tell us everything, Frankie, and I’m just going to be honest here. I read your journal and know what that man did to you. I had to in order to protect you.”

  My stomach wretches once then twice before the stinging taste of bile rises up the back of my throat. I’m left with no other option than to race to the bathroom. I barely make it before I’m curled up against the toilet, spilling my guts. My stomach cramps over and over heaving up bile. I rip back the sleeves of my hoodie, digging at my skin.

  “No, Dalton, let me!” Opal shouts, and the next thing I know hands are placed on the top of my shoulders. “Get it out. Feel the pain. I’m not going to tell you to stop.”

  “I hate you!” I scream, feeling my throat tear and rip. It doesn’t stop as I repeat it over and over. I have no idea who I’m yelling at, and the longer I try to process the louder I scream. Bile explodes once again.

  Dry heaves wrack my body over and over until I collapse, expecting to hit the harsh tiles of the bathroom floor. But I don’t. Arms wrap around me, holding me, catching all of the turmoil spewing out of me.

  “Feel it. Let it out.” Opal brushes a hand over my hair. “I know you don’t know me, Frankie, but I do want you to know this. I’ll be by your side until you can stand. There’s no judgment. I was broken once, too. Somebody caught me falling, and that’s something I can never pay back.”

  It’s the first time my pillow hasn’t caught my tears and my skin hasn’t been punished over the pain. It’s the first human connection with arms wide open ready to help me deal. It’s the strangest feeling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dalton Cray

  “I thought you said there was a bunch of blood.” I slam the side of the shed. “This could’ve happened from a simple fucking fall and a scraped knee.”

  The deputy takes a step back. “He’s missing, the house burned down, and there’s blood.”

  “Well, then, let’s just get the fucking homicide crew in here with all your damn evidence!” I slam the door of the shed causing the old wood to rattle. “This is considered a house fire and nothing more until we find more evidence.”

  The deputy opens his mouth to speak, but decides better and snaps it shut.

  “Let the fire department do their thing. A missing alert has been issued for Ray. Until anything else presents itself, then we move forward.” I take a step closer to him. “And if you or any other county employee goes against this, then I’d suggest you all better start building your fucking resume.”

  I walk away without waiting for a reaction, meeting up with Truckee who was lingering on the other side of the shed.

  He slaps my shoulder. “Little brother, I do believe your balls have officially dropped.”

  I don’t bother to respond, since my irritation is at an all-new level.

  “You already have enough power in this shithole to fire employees?”

  “No,” I reply, taking long steps toward the white fence that borders the back of Frankie’s house. “But they don’t know that.”

  “Wrong answer.” Truckee hitches his boot up on the fence, leaning on the top with his elbows. “You do have the power. Made a few phone calls while you were dealing with Deputy Dipshit, and it seems Ray Chapman and a few of his church cronies had lots of influence around these parts. Strange little fucked up community here.”

  My back relaxes on the fence as I cross my arms, staring over at the charred remains of Ray’s house while Truckee gazes at the horse behind Frankie’s place.

  “You know, Truckee, part of me hopes someone has already killed the bastard because if I see him, I'll do it.”

  “Only if you beat me to it,” he replies.

  “The day I saw Frankie at the town celebration I just knew something was wrong. I just fucking knew. She reminded me so much of Saige. I tried to shake it off and regret doing so.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Cray. We are here now and will protect her.” He goes silent for a second. “Thanks for calling me, brother.”

  He doesn’t need to go on about how we’ve moved on to make separate lives after the shit we went through growing up. We each had our own ways of coping.

  I turn around to face the same way as Truckee, resting my arms on the sleek, vinyl fence. “Do you think she started the fire?”

  “I think she did way more than that.” He nods to the horse pawing at us a few feet away. “I’m gonna guess that’s her horse. See how fired up he is? He saw or knows something and is storming.”

  The horse takes off racing around the perimeter of the fence with his nostrils flared. Even when we walk away, he continues pawing and running around the pasture. Truckee and I walk the perimeter of the property, not seeing anything out of place before going back into the house.

  We don’t have a chance to adjust to the inside lighting before Opal is in front of both of us.

  “Truckee, store, now. There are no fresh groceries in this place.” She tosses her purse over her shoulder.

  “Only if you’re cooking me chicken pot pie tonight, woman.”

  She balls up her tiny fist punching him in the shoulder. “Come on. I told Frankie that I’d only be gone for thirty minutes.”

  “Where is she?” I ask, looking around the living room.

  Opal points into the kitchen and I see Frankie with her knees clutched to her chest and her journal open in front of her. She doesn’t look up or make eye contact. I nod, wanting to ask so many questions, but don’t want to treat Frankie as if she’s a caged animal with people talking about and staring at her as if she wasn’t there.

  “Frankie,” Opal calls out. She doesn’t look up. “Truckee is going to run me to the store and do one other errand and I’ll be back.”

  Again, no response from Frankie. I scrub my face and exhale loudly. This is so fucked and frustrating that I have no words to explain any of it.

  “How is she?” I whisper to Opal as she’s on her way out.

  Opal shrugs her shoulders with her lips pursed. “She’s here and that’s all we can ask for.”

  I back away, heading into the kitchen where the aroma of coffee entices me. Looking around, I notice that all of the flowers and casserole dishes leftover from the funeral have been c
leaned up. That’s when I notice the light scent of Pine-Sol lingering in the air. Shit, just a little bit of cleaning has lifted so much negative weight from this place.

  It’s not that Frankie and her grandma’s home was a complete pigsty before, but you could tell the last few weeks of neglect added to the heavy negativity. In fact, under the bit of clutter from having Louise’s services here, you can tell the house is well-ordered, loved, and lived in.

  I spot a carousel of coffee mugs and reach for one, then pour myself a cup of black coffee. Could drink and have drunk this shit all day long, didn’t matter what time of the day.

  “There’s milk and creamer in the kitchen and sugar over there.”

  I barely miss it because her voice is so low, but when I look over to Frankie she’s pointing to a row of white canisters.

  “Thanks, but I take my coffee black.” I clutch the mug and head her way to take a seat at the opposite side of the table. I’m downright shocked when she doesn’t hide her face from me.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asks, fire in her eyes and determination backing each word.

  “It’s my job,” I reply, bringing the mug of coffee up to my lips and blowing on it.

  Frankie sits up, pulling back the sleeves of her hoodie, and then placing her hands palm down on the table. “I’m not stupid, so don’t treat me like I am. I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you doing this? By all means you could’ve just turned a blind eye to this whole situation. It’s what everyone else has done that knows the truth.”

  “How many people know the truth?”

  “Answer my question,” she demands.

  “I’m not that kind of man, Frankie.” I set my mug of coffee down on the table and mirror her position. “Never have been and never will be. I believe in justice and that everyone should be able to live in peace.”

  “Better than your last answer, but you’re still lying. Why are you doing this? Why has Opal become my guardian?”

  “Doesn’t work that way, Frankie.” I raise an eyebrow. “Time for you to answer my question. How many people know?”

  “Enough,” she spits out.

  “There is a little fight left you in after all. You’re right. There is more. I knew it the day I saw you at your grandma’s celebration. Not proud to say I walked away that day, but, Frankie—I had a little sister named Saige. Someone hurt her and I was unable to protect her. That shit ain’t happening on my watch again.”

  I’m forced to take a drink of coffee and a long moment to breathe in and out before continuing. “Felt like a failure in so many ways ever since. I left my home and Mom, who was in the worst pain, and went into law enforcement. Made a promise to myself that I’d never let anyone down again like I did my sister.”

  “He hurt me so many times, Dalton.” She ducks her head, shoulders beginning to shake, but I don’t say a word, letting her get out what she needs to. “I was so young and naive the day I went into his house. He told me he had a bookmark for me and that’s the day my life changed. It continued on and on…”

  Sobs win out as she loses the battle for her voice.

  “Frankie, you can talk to me. Tell me anything. I’m on your side.”

  “I-uh, I-uh…” She raises her head to look at me, wiping her tears away with the backs of her arms. She’s still unable to catch her breath.

  I take a chance, rising from my end of the table with both of my hands raised in the air, slowly making my way to her. “Frankie, do you trust me?”

  She’s not able to answer, but also doesn’t jump back or run. I take it as a positive thing.

  “You what?” I scoot a chair near her, remaining calm and not breaking eye contact even though her eyes are filled with overflowing tears. “I’m not going to push you, Frankie, but if you need to get something out I’m here. So are Truckee and Opal. I promise we won’t let you go into the system and will protect whatever you did.”

  I grit my jaw until I fear my teeth will shatter and hope like hell that motherfucker is dead. The pain this girl is enduring has done cracked me wide open. I’ll do anything to save her, but it may be a losing fight because of how torn down she is.

  Frankie manages to calm herself and remains silent in her seat, staring straight ahead. It happens before I think it through. I reach over and cover the top of her hand with mine. I nearly rip it back when it dawns on me what I’ve done, but Frankie doesn’t flinch or recoil. She shocks me by making eye contact and opening her mouth but no words come out.

  I squeeze her hand, offering her a gentle smile. “I’ve got you. Anything you need to tell me, just write down in that journal. Between Opal, Truckee, and myself, nobody will have the chance to see it. When you’re ready you write it down, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “O-Okay,” she stutters out then flips her hand on the table until we are palm to palm with our fingers laced. “I wanted to die. I still want to die if I’m being honest, but thank you. It’s a feeling I can’t describe, what’s going through me right now. I just don’t know anything anymore.”

  I squeeze her hand in mine, not taking the time to admit how fucking good it feels. I’d hold this girl tight to me if it took away all her memories of pain. No one would ever hurt her again. “Well, you don’t get to die and we’ll get you through this with the help you need.” I bite down on my lip, again choosing my words carefully. “Write it down. All of it, Frankie, and let me handle it from there.”

  She nods, knowing what I’m asking and that’s good enough for me right now.

  “So, what’s your horse’s name?”

  She doesn’t get a chance to answer as the front door bursts open followed by a boisterous Truckee with his hands full of brown bags. Frankie jumps up in her seat ready to run. I gently squeeze her hand, offering some comfort. She doesn’t run but doesn’t necessarily fall back into the ease we just found.

  I grit my jaw and then fight to relax it, not wanting to completely obliterate this moment. She finally let me peek into the real Frankie. I have no idea if it would’ve lasted much longer than she gave me, but hell, now I’ll never know. I just hope like hell she tells me where Ray is before my men find him. There’s only so much I can do to protect her and a dead body may be out of my wheelhouse.

  I have a lingering suspicion that Truckee would handle it with little to no effort. It’s the direct result of greed, power, and money. He’s followed right in our dad’s footsteps, minus the knack for beating the shit out of his wife and kids. That’s not even true or a known fact yet, and a reason I’d deduce that Truckee has remained single all these years, only exercising his manwhore ways.

  Opal waltzes right into the kitchen as if it were her own. It seems this woman doesn’t have one shy bone in her body. I can admire the way she came in with her proverbial guns drawn and ready to take care of business. I have no idea what went on between her and Frankie. Opal must possess some sort of magic because it’s like she bonded with Frankie, or at least broke the ice.

  She nudges Truckee toward the groceries, giving him the eye that says his ass better start unloading them. I lean back in my chair, truly enjoying the show and wondering what’s going on between these two.

  Frankie carefully slides her hand out from under mine forcing my attention back to her. A part of me that I’m not going to stop and analyze doesn’t like missing the warmth of her hand.

  “Here.” Opal plops down a bag of chips.

  I recognize them and from the packaging on the label, they’re more than likely hot as fuck.

  “Saw an empty bag in your room and took a guess you liked them as well as this.” She sets down a large bottle of flavored water and shrugs. “Hey, I wasn’t snooping. They were in plain sight, and girls have to have snacks.”

  Frankie tugs the bag close to her and if I’m not mistaken, a sincere smile greets us for a brief second. The way it lights up her face is incredible. If I had blinked I’d have missed it.

  “We are having chicken Alfredo, Caesar salad, and garl
ic bread tonight. And before you say a damn word,” she points at Truckee, giving him a stern look, “tonight is Alfredo night back at my place and I’m not missing it. You can have a bloody steak any night of the week, so no complaining.”

  “You know I don’t eat fucking seagull,” Truckee barks, tossing the last bag in the trashcan.

  Opal plucks it out of the trashcan and neatly folds it, tucking it away in a cabinet. “Do you ever think about the health of our planet?”

  Truckee snorts.

  “And it looks as if your big ass is going to be gobbling down seagull tonight. At least you’ll have some sauce and pasta to go with it.” She winks and goes about cooking up a storm.

  Truckee gives me a jerk of his head, signaling me to meet at the back door. I glance over at Frankie who seems to be getting more and more color in her face. I don’t want to leave her side. Ahh, shit…not doing this. I clear my throat and follow Truckee out the back door. It’s been a matter of hours and I already feel the shift occurring and have no idea how to stop it or even begin to explain it.

  Opal rattles on to Frankie. It doesn’t seem to phase Opal at all that Frankie remains quiet at the table. There’s still plenty of buzz surrounding Ray’s house as Truckee and I step behind Frankie’s. We settle around a rusty round patio table before Truckee speaks up.

  “Everything is settled with the guardianship. I sent the bottle off to be tested.”

  “Where?” I glance over at him. “You running meth labs now or some shit?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I have people. Let’s just leave it at that, and I will have results tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Okay, mobster.” I sink down in the chair until my head rests on the back and my legs are sprawled out in front of me, then tip down my ball cap until it’s covering my eyes. I’d give anything right now for an ice-cold beer.