by Josie Wright
I start walking, past tombstones, old trees, and fields, but Frankie is nowhere in sight. Frustration is slowly crawling up my spine and it takes all my self-restraint not to stop in the middle of the damn path and shout Frankie’s name.
I turn corner after corner, slowly giving up hope that I’ll find her, or that I’ll find my way back to the parking lot, when I spot Frankie sitting on a bench. She keeps staring into space until my footsteps alert her that she isn’t alone any longer.
I pick up my pace and make my way over to her with long, determined strides. Now that I know she’s okay, the anger about her taking off bubbles to the surface and I struggle to keep it contained.
“You can’t just run off like that, Frankie. We were worried sick.”
“Funny coming from you.” Sarcasm drips from her every word and her face contorts into an angry mask again.
Trying to calm myself down, I breathe in and out a few times, sitting down next to her.
“How did you find me?”
“After we called Vince and you weren’t there, Dean suggested this place. He said you like to come here to think, to recharge your batteries. It’s a maze; I’ve been wandering around for the past twenty minutes trying to find this spot.”
She takes in a ragged breath. “Maybe I didn’t want to be found.” She pauses and I’m about to reply, to try to explain things, when she speaks again.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like? Waking up alone?” Pain pours out of her with every word. “I wasn’t even worth an explanation. It tore my fucking heart apart, Ben. And just when I was starting to let you in, you did it again.”
I try to come up with the right words, find a way to explain, but she again beats me to it.
“I’m done, Ben. I’m done talking. I’m done listening. I’m done caring. I can’t fall apart again. Archer needs me.”
I’d love to take her in my arms, to tell her everything will be all right, but her posture is rigid. It couldn’t be any more unwelcoming if she had barbed wire wrapped around herself. Misunderstanding my silence, she gets up, ready to walk off. I know this is my last chance. This is it—either I tell her or I lose her.
I have a hard time getting the words out. It was hard enough to speak them to Allie and Jake, who were practically strangers, but speaking them to someone who’s known me all my life, someone I care about, someone I love, is so much harder.
“It was my dad.”
“What? What are you talking about now, Ben?”
I stare down at my hands, wringing them together in my lap and sigh. “I was on the phone with my father.”
“Oh, come on, Ben. This is ridiculous. Why would you be hiding conversations with your father from me? And why would you have to tell me about him? I know him. I grew up next door, remember? This is complete bullshit.” She’s louder, her voice hard. I’m not doing a good job explaining myself.
It takes so much effort to say it, to face all those emotions again.
“Not Ron. My real dad.”
I can feel her body turn toward me. She’s silently watching me. I don’t say anything, just stare off into the distance, preparing myself for the explanations that will be even more difficult to make.
When she speaks, her voice is softer. “Ben, what do you mean?”
“Ron is not my real father. It was all a lie. That’s why I left—I wanted to know who my father is.”
The memories of that one day that changed everything flood back into my mind. The letter, my mother’s admission, her betrayal. If I weren’t already sitting, it would bring me down to my knees.
Frankie’s hand on my arm brings me back to the here and now. I shake my head, dispelling all the memories, and focus on Frankie instead. It’s cold as fuck and she’s been sitting here for about an hour. She’s shaking and her teeth are chattering.
“Let’s go somewhere and talk. You’re freezing.”
We walk back to the car in silence, both of us digesting the past couple hours.
Once we’re in Dean’s car, I turn on the heat to warm her up, then I lean back in the seat and run my fingers through my hair and down my face, mentally preparing myself for the conversation to come.
Chapter 31
The Truth Will Set You Free
I don’t know where or how to begin, but Frankie makes it easier on me by breaking the silence.
“I shouldn’t have taken off like that.”
I chuckle at the irony of her words. I should be the one apologizing since I started all the drama in the first place. She deserves an apology and so much more. It’s about time she knows the truth; she needs to know how sorry I am. It’s up to her to decide if she gives me another chance after I tell her everything.
“Me neither, Frankie.” I take a breath to steady my shaky voice. “I’m sorry how I left. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was a mess. My world felt like it was crumbling. The man I considered my father being nothing more than a liar. And my mom not being any better.”
It’s funny how those things don’t get better with time. Time doesn’t heal shit. You don’t just get over it. It still fucking hurts when you realize how alone you really are.
Since I’m lost in my thoughts, I don’t pay attention to Frankie’s movement and am surprised when I suddenly feel her climbing into my lap. She puts her arms around me and lays her head into the crook of my neck.
It’s the single most encouraging thing she could have done in this moment. I hug her back, holding her close to me, as I open up to her.
I tell her everything, starting with the moment I found the letter in the mailbox. How I hoped it would be all a mistake. That I was the wrong Benjamin Gibson. I tell her about confronting my mom and the ugly truth she revealed.
Reliving that afternoon is messing with my head. Despite everything that happened, it still feels like a bad dream.
I need Frankie closer, don’t want any space between us. The warmth of her body, her calm breathing, all ground me and make me feel whole; she makes me feel whole. This gives me the courage to continue.
The memory plays in my head like a bad movie while I recount what happened up to the point where she found me on her parents’ couch.
At the mention of our night together, her body tightens and she makes a stifled sound. I don’t want her to hurt at the memory, and I don’t want to risk her pushing me away, so I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look into my eyes as I say, “That night, Frankie, it meant everything to me. It wasn’t just a fuck. But I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t know who I was. I was confused and didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. The life I knew turned out to be a lie. The people I trusted the most had betrayed me from the beginning. I was angry and there was no way I could’ve let anyone close—not even you. I wouldn’t have been any good to be around and I needed to meet my dad.”
Her body instantly relaxes, melting back into mine, but there’s still pain in her voice as she’s teetering on the verge of tears. “Why didn’t you say something? You just left a note, Ben.”
I could make something up to make it easier on her, on me. But it’s time I man up and tell her everything—no secrets, no holding back.
“It’s a shit excuse, I know. But I didn’t know what to say. I barely held it together as it was.” Her body starts shaking with quiet, small sobs as I continue, “I couldn’t deal with your feelings. It was hard enough to leave. But I had to leave. I had to figure my shit out.”
“And did you?”
There is no simple answer for that. No black and white, I guess. I place a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“As good as I could, I suppose. I went to Tucson, first seeing the lawyer. He gave me the papers and then he told me where to find my dad. It took me nearly two months to gather the courage to go see him. I was a mess. I basically lived on whiskey. When I didn’t feel angry about my situation, I felt guilty for leaving you the way I did.”
“So you met your dad? What happened? Why didn’t you just tell me about him?”
This is it. The moment of truth. She’ll either run screaming from the car, or she’ll accept my dad with all his issues and the possibility I might end up just like him—being nothing more than a burden to her and Archer. I hug her closer in a sad attempt of keeping her from running away. My heart nearly bursts out of my chest and my mouth is so fucking dry it feels parched. Feeling my unease, Frankie takes my hand and interlaces our fingers.
“When my mom said he was not a good man—what she forgot to mention was that it’s her fault. He lost his mind because of her. I know this sounds dramatic, but he really did. He found out she had an affair with Ron, she left him and took me with her, making up some story to terminate his parental rights.”
Every muscle in my body is tight from the pain the memories bring on and the anticipation of how Frankie will react. I can’t look at her, can’t risk seeing judgment, apprehension, or worse—rejection.
“He…he became so depressed that he never recovered. He’s been in a mental health institution most of the time since. He’s a shell of man, Frankie. I hate my mom for what she did to him, but even then I know his reaction isn’t normal. It’s fucking scary. I’m his son, what if I end up like him? That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how you would react. I didn’t know if you’d still want me.”
It’s finally out and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or petrified, but I don’t get a chance to think about it because Frankie turns my face. Though my head is turned toward her, I still don’t look at her, don’t make eye contact. I’m too lost in the emotional turmoil the memories and fears bring about.
“Ben, of course I still want you. Your dad isn’t you. Your family isn’t you. This doesn’t define you.” She pauses, giving me a moment to digest her words, then she asks, “Did you talk to your mom about it?”
“No, she had twenty-five years to tell me. She didn’t. She lied to me all my life. Now, I have nothing to say to her. My dad told me everything I need to know. He’s a broken man—all because of her. If not for my grandmother, I would have never even known.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry this all happened.” She pulls back and I feel her gaze on me. Finally looking into her eyes, I see sympathy and pain, but none of the things I was so scared of. Despite the relief I feel, I need to make sure she knows my biggest fear. It lingers under the surface, waiting to attack.
“I was worried you wouldn’t want to be around me or have me around Archer if you knew my dad was crazy. And I understand if you want me out of your life. Out of Archer’s life.”
Making sure I can’t turn away, she holds my face between her hands, her fingers stroking my cheek.
“Ben, I’m a psychology major. I don’t look down on people because of a mental illness. I don’t look down on your father. I can’t begin to understand how difficult it has to be for him. But no matter what your father’s issues are, they aren’t yours.” The conviction in her eyes and voice leaves no room for doubts. “I want you here, Ben. I need you. And so does Archer. I’ve wanted you for years, and it hasn’t stopped.”
She lends weight to her words when she touches her lips to mine, lingering at first before her kiss turns wild and wanton. She’s not holding back. Her tongue slips into my mouth and her body melts into me. It’s a tangle of tongues and limbs, our breaths mixing and mingling. We’re both lost in the moment where finally nothing stands between us—no past mistakes, no pain, and no secrets. The intimacy of the kiss and Frankie’s body pressed against mine are a testament to the feelings she still has for me and it’s a turn on in more than just one way.
Unless we want to end up fucking in the car in the parking lot of a cemetery—which even for my standards would be highly inappropriate—we need to stop this now. I pull my face away from her an inch or two.
“Whoa. This was…wow,” I say breathlessly. This woman literally takes my breath away. Before we leave the car, there is one more thing she needs to know—the one thing she deserves to hear.
“I’m sorry, babe—for hurting you.” I kiss her gently, not rushing it, not pushing, just a gentle caress with my lips. She gives in even more than before, her muscles loosening, her body leaning into me. The fight and the hesitation are gone.
“I think we should take this slowly—for now at least.” She looks up at me, biting her lip. It’s cute and hot as hell at the same time.
“Not if you keep that up, we ain’t.” I free her lip with my fingers and pull her closer. She snuggles into me and then I hear it again. Something I noticed before when we hugged. She inhales me, my scent, and it’s fucking funny.
“You sniffing me again?”
“Problem with that?” Defiantly, she drags in another breath.
“Not at all, you little weirdo.” I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
“Thank you, Frankie. For understanding and not judging my dad or me.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers, kissing my jaw.
Chapter 32
Fun Memories
A few days later, Frankie and I have just finished watching a few horror movies. I’m in my room, talking to Jake and Allie on the phone. I told Frankie about them, so she doesn’t worry I’m hiding anything, and she was genuinely happy I’ve had someone to keep me company during my time in Tucson. She even went as far as suggesting they come for a visit.
So now I’m leaning back against the headboard of my bed while recounting the events of the past days, including today’s fun in the snow.
“It was the first time Archer was out in the snow. He was fucking adorable, giggling so hard it made him sound like a little pig with all the snorting that was going on.”
“Did you hear that, Jake? Isn’t that cute?” Allie teases Jake, or at least for his sake, I hope it’s only teasing because he sounds less than enthusiastic when he grumbles, “We don’t have snow in Tucson.”
Ignoring them, I go on. “He was crawling around and bouncing up and down in the snow. And once Frankie had tackled me to the ground, he started shoveling snow on me and then later onto us both.”
“Oooh, so you went horizontal in the snow. Nice, man.” Jake laughs.
“Dipshit,” Allie and I say in unison.
“I’m so happy you and Frankie worked stuff out, Ben.” There is genuine happiness in Allie’s voice. But then again, when isn’t that girl happy.
“Me, too. I should have told her from the start, though. We could have skipped the whole dramatic fight and heart-to-heart at a cemetery.”
“Things happen the way they are meant to. No need to fret about it.”
“Aren’t you wise, Al.” I laugh.
Jake interrupts Allie when she’s about to say something.
“The more important question is: Have you scored yet?”
I roll my eyes. “We are taking it slow. As hard as it may be.”
“Oh, I bet it’s hard.” Jake lets out a dirty snort.
“Asshole. Well, it is, but that’s not what I meant.” I chuckle. “We both want it, but we’re also aware we can’t rush into things. Frankie needs to be able to trust me and know I want more than to just get into her pants.”
“Don’t listen to him, Ben. Jake is a caveman.”
“Yeah, and you love to play with my club.”
“Okay guys, I really don’t want to listen to your foreplay.”
“Sorry,” they both grumble, making me laugh. But I hear Jake murmuring something to Allie that makes her break out into bashful giggles.
“I’ll leave you two to it while I go check on my girl.” Yeah, I’m fucking enjoying calling her my girl. “She’s probably scared shitless after the horror flicks.”
We say our goodbyes and I make my way to Frankie’s room, my quilt and pillow in tow. She’s always been a chickenshit when it came to horror movies. I’ll never forget the summer Dave and I had a Halloween marathon. Frankie tagged along, knowing full well we’d never let a chance to scare her pass us by. And we definitely did scare the hell out of her.
> I was crashing over at Dave’s place after we finished the marathon. We had a bet going how long it was going to take Frankie to admit defeat and sneak down to the basement where we were sleeping on the couches. She had just turned sixteen a couple weeks ago, but when it came to horror movies, she was like a five-year-old—scared of her own shadow.
Instead of sleeping, we were eating pizza when we heard her come down the stairs. I looked at my watch. “Twenty-three minutes. I win,” I said to Dave, which earned me a groan.
“Not even my own sister has my back.”
She entered the room, and I tried hard not to look her way. It wasn't exactly difficult coming up with dirty fantasies featuring Frankie, so seeing her in only shorts and a tank was not a visual I needed with her brother in the room. Just as well I had a blanket already thrown across my lap.
“Hey guys. I figured I come back down and hang out with you. I can’t sleep. I guess I ate too much,” she said with a sheepish smile on her face. She’d never admit to being scared. No, not Frankie. This made it so much more fun to mess with her.
Dave started laughing. “Uh huh. I’m sure that’s the reason.”
“Sure it is, jerkwad,” she retorted, plopping down in the armchair, reclining it back.
“You weren’t scared Michael Myers was going to come for you, were you?” I teased.
“I have to put up with the two of you. Michael Myers seems like a walk in the park in comparison.” She glared at me, crossing her arms across her chest—pushing her rack up and making me even harder than I already was. I was going to hell for lusting after my best friend’s sister. Dave would kick my ass, her mother would sit down and die of disappointment, and her father would nail my balls to the wall. Not to mention what she would do to me if I ever made a move.
Not fifteen minutes had passed when Frankie stood up, excusing herself for a moment to make her way upstairs to the bathroom, which allowed Dave and me to set our plan in motion.
We've always been a good team when it came to messing with Frankie. While Dave followed her upstairs, silent like a damn cat, I opened the small window in the basement, turning off the lights and hiding under the staircase.