“Oh, hell, Frankie. It’s—” He stretched out his hand before seeming to catch himself. His jaw clenched. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets as the women at one of the tables looked over with interest. “Um, do you want some help?”
“What?” He blinked before staring down at the pad and menus in his hand. He sucked in a breath as if trying to get his focus back. “Oh…yeah. Only if you have time.”
Without another word, she followed him into Rosie.
Several more of Chelsea’s masterpieces were hanging from the wall. The counters were clean, apart from a box of tomatoes, which he’d obviously been in the middle of cutting before his customers had appeared.
Guilt flooded her.
He’d been doing everything on his own. But before she could speak, he ushered her over to her regular station. Nothing had changed. In the display cabinet was one of Maggie’s carrot cakes. Not quite the same as the ones Lo baked, but still mouthwatering.
A pang of nostalgia hit, but she swallowed it down as he read out the order.
The steady routine of preparing the cakes, making sure they were plated just right, helped push aside the constant thrum of anxiety that had appeared when she’d first found Lo collapsed on the sofa.
Next to her, Jackson brewed pots of tea and sorted out the cups and saucers. He moved past her, so close her skin prickled as he took the order out.
After that there was a steady stream of customers, keeping them both busy for the next hour.
“Please don’t tell me it’s been like this for the last week?” she said as they cleared tables.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said, though it was at odds with the tired sheen in his eyes. She obviously wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping well. “I take it Kenneth won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
“Don’t get me started,” Frankie growled. “He quit because he wasn’t feeling appreciated. Apparently, we didn’t take his illnesses seriously enough.”
“Lousy timing,” Jackson agreed in a diplomatic tone as he piled the delicate teacups onto a tray. He stopped and studied her face. “So, I’m guessing now you’re back you won’t need me. Should I finish up my shift?”
“What?” The teapot in Frankie’s hand rattled, and she quickly put it down. There’d been enough broken things lately. “You think that’s why I’m here?”
“It’s okay, Frankie. I get how much you and Lo must hate the idea of me working here. After what I did to you. Not my finest moment.”
“Lo isn’t like that. She never wanted you to quit. Neither did I. I mean, I was worried about working with you, but I would have been fine. You didn’t have to do it. Especially not after your mom—” She cut herself off, but it was too late. He flinched.
Nice going.
Was that why he’d dumped her?
Because he thought she looked down on him or his family? She wanted to tell him he was wrong. That his mom sounded cool, and brave, and strong. And that Chelsea was an angel. But she clamped down on her lips. He probably wouldn’t believe her.
She was just the girl who sold his drawings without asking him.
“So, why are you here?” he said in a flat voice. She’d been right. He obviously hadn’t changed his mind. She steadied herself, not up to being dumped for a second time in a week.
Just get it over and done with. You can lick your wounds later.
“Lo…we…were hoping you’d keep working here until the end of summer. She’s going to advertise to replace Kenneth, but it might take a few weeks.”
Something flickered across his face, but it was too fleeting to read.
“Will you be here?”
She swallowed. “Is that a problem?”
He gave a curt shake of his head. “No problem.” Then without another word he returned to his work.
It had gone about as well as could be expected.
Correction. It had gone exactly how she’d planned. Jackson had made it abundantly clear how he felt about her. Not much she could do about that. Besides, it wasn’t like she wanted more. Dumped once, shame on him, but dumped twice…
It was something she’d do well to remember.
xxxx
Jackson had never been a fan of jogging, but since Frankie had come back to work he’d found himself down at the Cauldron every evening, pounding against the wet sand trying to get rid of all the excess…feelings.
He came to a halt and wiped the sweat from his brow. It didn’t really work, but at least it left him too tired to think about her for more than an hour or two before falling asleep.
Still, it was nothing less than he deserved.
The only consolation was that Frankie didn’t seem affected at all. It had been five days since she’d returned, and while they’d fallen back into their old friendly banter, it was a façade. Like there was something missing. Underneath, he could tell she was distant.
He was just the guy who’d ruined her summer.
And I thought Aaron Tremain was the douche.
It had to get easier. He jogged back to his car and headed home. The window was open, and the cool wind hit his face as he pulled up to the apartment block. He unlocked the door, and his nose twitched.
Roast chicken?
He blinked. His mom had always been a great cook, but with the way her shifts had been split, there’d never been time for more than a hastily thrown together meal. None of them had minded, but as competing smells caught in his nose, it seemed to change the entire apartment. Like it was more than just bad wallpaper and mustard-colored carpet.
His mom was by the stove, stirring something in a pot.
“Hey,” he said in a cautious voice. “What’s going on?”
She looked up and smiled. The rings under her eyes had gone thanks to getting more sleep, but right now she was beaming. Good news?
“Remember I applied for that job at a plumbing store, working in the office?”
“Sure.” He nodded. She’d applied for everything and anything, though most of them had been long shots. She grinned at him, and his eyes widened. “You got a call back?”
“More than that. I got the job.”
“Seriously?” Jackson picked her up and swung her around. She laughed, and something in his chest shifted. His mom hadn’t laughed like that for a long time.
“Seriously. Now put me down,” she commanded, though the smile was still there. The noise brought Chelsea charging out, Miss Sparkles tucked under her arm.
“Jackson. Momma’s going to dress up each day and do math. It’s like school, but different,” the little girl explained in an earnest voice.
“It sure is,” he said before turning back to his mom. “Tell me what happened.”
A pink glow hit her cheeks. “Turns out the owner is Stan Wells. We went out for a little while…before I met your dad. He remembered me and got me in for an interview. And no, don’t look like that. He remembered I’d been great at math, and the fact I’d raised two kids on the sniff of an oily rag impressed him. It’s going to be okay, J. If all goes well, we might even be able to move out of the Boards. A new life.”
“Do you really think that’s possible? I mean, we can change our address, but there aren’t many Stans in the world. We’re still going to be connected to what my father did. What kind of person he was.”
His mom’s smile dimmed, and he cursed himself for saying anything. Then she reached for his hand. “I know things have been tough, and so many times I wish I’d never met Marty Lang. Never made the decisions I did. But without him, I wouldn’t have you.”
Jackson closed his eyes.
They never talked about his father. It was much easier to let his presence sit there like a festering wound.
“Why did you stay with him?” The words burned his throat as he spoke.
She bowed her head. “He wasn’t always bad. There were so many moments when he was…well…someone I could fall in love with. We were young, and I
made excuses for all the other times. Even when I got pregnant with you, I hoped things would change. That he’d know how to be a good partner. A good father.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said in a gruff voice.
“That’s not exactly true. I could have left him sooner. But it was hard. Once you’re in that world, they don’t like you leaving.”
“How did you do it?” His heart hammered. He’d only been four when they’d split, but his mom was right. Not many people walked away from that life. Why had he never asked her before?
“I told him of all the things I’d heard and how I’d written them down and given them to a lawyer. That if anything happened to me…”
“Were you scared?”
She squeezed his hand. “Tell me, Jackson, how far would you go to keep Chelsea safe?”
“I’d do anything,” he said without even thinking. “Anything.”
“Me too. And not just for Chelsea. From the moment you were born, I loved you more than anything in the world. So, no. I wasn’t scared; not for myself. All I cared about was making sure you were safe. And happy.”
He swallowed. “I didn’t know.”
“I’ve been so busy trying to outrun the past, I didn’t like to talk about it much. I could have done better.”
“I get why you didn’t,” he said as a timer beeped.
“Dinner’s ready!” Chelsea clapped her hands and skipped around the kitchen.
“Sure is,” his mom said before turning to Jackson. She lightly touched his chin. This time he didn’t flinch. “Remember, you’re not just Marty Lang’s son. You’re my son too. I don’t know what happened with you and Frankie, and you don’t need to tell me, but I meant what I said. You’re allowed to be happy.”
She walked over to the stove, chatting to Chelsea as she did. But he just stood there, his mind spinning.
You’re not just Marty Lang’s son. You’re my son too.
And apparently his mom was someone who did hard things. Even when she was scared. So, what did it mean? That things could have been different?
That if he’d been stronger, he and Frankie might have—
Oh, hell. What had he done?
14
“How was it?” Lo asked as Frankie kicked off her shoes and walked into her aunt’s bedroom. Her favorite yellow roses filled it with a heavenly scent that competed with the many bunches that were arriving daily. Pill bottles and paperback books covered the nightstand, along with bridal magazines. She was able to get up for longer each day, but still seemed to tire quickly. The doctors were pleased with her progress.
“It was fine. Busy, but good.” Frankie curled up in the chair by the bed.
“And the rest?” Lo arched an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” A hollow hole in her chest started to burn.
“I mean, how is it working with him again? It’s been almost a week, and you haven’t mentioned his name once. Is it that bad?”
“I’m sure getting a lobotomy would be worse.” Frankie picked at the hem of her dress. Then she sighed. “It’s fine.”
“You don’t sound convincing,” Lo said. “Maybe it was a mistake to stay open?”
“This is the busy season. You’re already down because you can’t fill orders. We can’t afford to shut Rosie as well. Not with that retro wedding dress you’ve been eyeing. And the price tag.”
“And I can’t afford to let my niece have a miserable summer. I’ve already ruined it enough.”
“It’s fine. I swear,” Frankie said in a fierce voice. “And it will help remind me not to make the same mistake again. You think I would have learned by now.”
“Learned what?” Lo studied her face with interest.
“Not to trust a bad boy. You’d think after everything that happened to Mom…well, I guess I have to make my own mistakes.”
Lo inched further up in her bed. “Wait. You think that your mom wouldn’t want you to date someone like Jackson because of who his father was?”
“No,” Frankie said before wincing. “Yeah. If she hadn’t stayed with Keith, if he hadn’t taken all her money, we would have had insurance.” Her throat tightened, and she tilted her neck upward to stop the tears from leaking out. “If she’d been dating someone like Johnny—”
This earned her a grim bark of laughter. “Your mom and Johnny would have killed each other within a week. Johnny is the perfect guy for me, but he and your mom never would have suited.”
“I just meant Johnny’s been so amazing. He stayed with you the whole time. Lo, you should have seen his face. Mom never had that. But if she’d been with someone decent, things might have been different.”
Silence filled the room, before Lo let out a soft sigh.
“Sweetheart. What happened to Angie was devastating. I’m not sure either of us will ever really get over it, but the last thing she’d want is for you to blame someone for what happened. She didn’t live her life like that.”
“And she paid the price.” The words were raw and jagged, and she couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes. These days, crying seemed to be her default mode.
“I know it hurts, and I went and made it worse. But you can’t be scared of life. Angie was the bravest person I’ve ever met. Do you know she first moved away from Cricket Bay when she was seventeen?”
Frankie sat up straight. “She did?”
“Right. When I was seventeen, I was too scared to ask a boy out on a date. But nothing scared your mom. She came back a few years later, but after getting pregnant with you, she decided to make a life for herself in Los Angeles. And that’s what she did. And yes, she hit some bumps, but she never regretted anything. If you ask me, that’s not a bad way to live. And you’re her daughter. So much like her that it takes my breath away sometimes.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Angie would hate for you to be traveling through life carrying more luggage than you need. Yes, she made a mistake because she trusted a man who didn’t deserve her, but if she’d still been alive, she wouldn’t have let it stop her from looking for love. And it definitely wouldn’t have stopped her from dating someone else just because they reminded her of a bad experience. Your mom was brave.”
“Feel the fear and do it anyway?” Frankie said, almost waiting for Jackson to remind her it was a cliché.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Because he’d dumped her.
And yet…had she held back from him because she’d been scared?
Heat hit her cheeks.
She didn’t have to think very hard, because it was true.
Even before she’d met him, she’d assumed he was bad.
And then when he’d shown her just what a great guy he was, she still hadn’t been willing to take a chance on him. Not really.
He’d told her how personal his artwork was. That he didn’t like to share it with anyone, and what did she do?
Sold one to a complete stranger.
Shame pounded in her veins.
He’d been so uncomfortable at the engagement party. Like he didn’t belong. And all she’d done was run around helping Lo, forcing him to talk to strangers. She hadn’t bothered to think how he’d felt. That to him, it did matter.
Then there was the hospital. He’d slept in his car all night to make sure Lo was okay. To see what he could do to help. And he kept the business going singlehandedly.
She’d repaid him by thinking of him as the villain. The guy who dumped her. Who left her.
Except he hadn’t left at all.
He’d stayed.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“I’ve really messed up, haven’t I?”
Lo squeezed her hand. “You think all of my remarkable wisdom came for free? Sweetheart, we all mess up. It’s how we fix it that makes the difference. The question is, what are you going to do?”
Frankie got to her feet, her heart pounding. “I’ve got no idea,” she admitted. Usually that would terrify her, but if the last f
ew days had taught her anything, it was that you didn’t always need a plan.
xxxx
Jackson leaned against the counter and made a list of things he could do to win Frankie back. So far, he’d come up with a picnic at the beach or a beach picnic. He crossed them both out. This was a disaster.
She was a girl who specialized in grand gestures. Picnics weren’t going to cut it.
He’d spent all night thinking he could just sweep her off her feet. But that would never work. He’d blown his chance to do that when he’d walked out of Lo’s party. The fact she was even talking to him was a minor miracle. Which meant he was going to have to pull out all the tricks.
Make a plan.
Except he didn’t make plans, which probably explained why he was doing such a bad job of it.
He stuffed the list into the pocket of the floral apron.
Today’s one was green with pink roses on it. It was midafternoon, and Frankie had left early to go to a doctor’s appointment with Lo. All without him figuring out a way to say sorry. To show her he’d screwed up. Correction. He didn’t need to convince her of that. She knew just how much he’d screwed up. What he needed was a way to fix what he’d done. Only he had no idea—
Someone coughed, and he looked up.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said as Aaron Tremain stood at the counter with his arm slung around a girl he vaguely recognized from school.
“Is that any way to talk to your customers?” Aaron chided and kissed the girl on the mouth. She let out a giggle and sat down at one of the tables, crossing her legs and leaning forward in Aaron’s direction.
Spare me.
“I guess it depends on the customer. And for the record, Frankie’s not here, so if you’re trying to mess with her, your show’s over.”
“Hey, I only messed with her once, and that’s because I thought she’d stood me up at Sam’s party,” Aaron said. The lack of remorse was laughable. Almost. “Besides, between you and me, hooking up with Melissa was a mistake. I had no idea someone so hot would be so clingy. I mean, this is summer. No one wants a relationship in summer.”
Jackson blinked. “Why are you talking to me?”
How to Kiss a Bad Boy Page 14