Hated (Hearts of Stone #3)

by Christine Manzari

  After Austin left, I did my best to pull myself together. For Moxie.

  I showed her around the house and asked her if she thought it might be a place she would want to live. She said she would and loved the old attic that had been converted into a living space. I felt a sense of rightness, imagining her playing up there, in the same place that Austin and I had shared so many afternoons together.

  We spent a lot of time in the yard. I’d gone into town and gotten Moxie a bike to ride. She always loved riding in the yard with JD back in Texas, and they’d both ditched the training wheels months ago. All of my old ramps were long gone, and the old dirt hills I practiced on had been leveled out years ago, but I remembered where every one of them had been. I kept one eye on Moxie and the other on the house next door. Waiting for my chance to try to make things right.

  I knew that if I was faced with the same decision now, I would’ve chosen differently. I’d only been eighteen and lots of teenagers made stupid decisions. Mine had just been the most epically stupid decision possible. Looking back, I realized the only thing I did correctly when it came to Austin and me was deciding to keep Moxie. Everything else was just one wrong decision after another. In trying to support Austin’s dreams, I’d stolen from him instead.

  Even if he ever found it in his heart to forgive me, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to forgive myself.

  “Mama,” Moxie said, her sweet southern accent making my heart melt like it always did. “Are we waiting for Daddy to come home?”

  I reached down to touch her head and had to grin at the adorable face hidden behind lopsided ponytails. My brothers used to tease me that I needed to get a helmet with holes for my ponytails because after riding, my hair had always been a ratty mess. Moxie might have gotten Austin’s beautiful eyes and talent for music, but she’d gotten my unruly hair.

  “Yes. We’re waiting.”

  She scrunched up her nose and then wiped it with the back of her grubby hand leaving a trail of dirt on her upper lip. She was totally like her mama in many ways. “Why don’t we just go look for him? Maybe he’s waiting for us to find him,” she said. “Maybe he likes hide and seek just like me!” she said hopefully.

  I sighed and pulled her close to hug her. “If he doesn’t come back by tomorrow, we’ll go look for him,” I promised.

  “Good. I miss my music,” she said, referring to the CD of his show I’d ordered for her online that she had left in Texas. “I want him to play the cello for me to help me sleep.”

  I ruffled her hair and looked across the yard at the window. “Me too.”

  — AUSTIN —

  20. I WASN’T RUNNING AWAY

  I wasn’t running away.

  That thought had been looping through my mind since I’d gotten on the plane late last night. After leaving Frankie’s house, I’d driven around aimlessly until I found myself parking in the garage at the BWI airport. One plane ticket and a security checkpoint later, I was on my way to Los Angeles. Where my family lived. Where Dallas was buried.

  What Frankie had said was true. For some conversations, you needed to have them in person. The phone could hide lies, but facial expressions never could…if you knew the person well enough. And while I still wasn’t completely decided on what to say to Frankie or how to move past the choice she made, I knew one thing for certain.

  I had to talk to my mother first.

  Not because I needed comfort or advice. Oh no. She would have been the last person I went to for either of those things. I needed to talk to my mother because I had a feeling that Frankie hadn’t made the decision to bail on me entirely on her own.

  My mother hated the DiGorgios and had made her feelings about my relationship with Frankie clear on many occasions. She’d also been willing to do just about anything to see Dallas and me succeed, even if she had to uproot the entire family and move us clear across the country to do it.

  I didn’t need Frankie to tell me my mother had been involved. Frankie told me she’d been in Vegas on opening night as we’d planned. My mother had picked her up from the airport. It wasn’t too hard to put the pieces together. I didn’t believe that Frankie would have come to Vegas only to leave before the show started unless someone had convinced her to do it. I wanted to know exactly how my mother had convinced her to disappear for four years.

  And now, bedraggled, exhausted, and destroyed, I was back in Los Angeles, standing in front of my parents’ new home.

  The house that my parents chose to move to when we left Vegas was a sprawling structure of stone and modern architecture—lots of sharp lines and glass pieced together like shiny building blocks. It had none of the charm of the homes in the neighborhood where Frankie and I lived. The houses we grew up seeing every day held stories and memories, the history of the families that had lived there.

  This house? It was beautiful and new and full of money. The only memory it held for me was that sunny day when Dallas had finally closed his eyes with a satisfied grin on his face like he’d won some sort of contest. I’d wondered many times what that look might have meant. I knew he wasn’t ready to die, but cancer had other plans for him. Like Frankie, he didn’t go down without a fight. Dallas found a way to cheat the disease from giving him the death it had promised him. Instead, he’d taken the death he wanted. I supposed in his way, he felt like he’d won at least one battle.

  Still, whether his death had been peaceful or full of suffering, this house was not the sort of place I would want to stay. That’s why, when my parents put my childhood home up for sale six months ago, I’d bought it. My mother hadn’t wanted to sell it to me, but for once, my father overruled her.

  My sister, Abby, was the first one to see me when I came in and she vaulted over the back of the couch to tackle me in a hug.

  “Austin! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” For as little as she was, she had the strength of a lumberjack. Her thin arms were wrapped around me and gripped my back as she did her best to squeeze the air out of me.

  “I’m not staying.” I hugged her back and then kissed the top of her head. “Where’s Mom?”

  Abby’s eyebrows dipped low, and she released me from her embrace. “Out back. On the patio.”

  Of course she was. The last place I wanted to be.

  I started toward the back of the house and Abby grabbed my elbow. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Mom went too far this time. And I want to hear her admit it to my face.”

  Abby followed me down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out the French doors to the oasis my mother had created out back. The pool glittered with sunlight, and flowering bushes bordered the fence that surrounded the yard.

  Chantel Stone was lounging on a wicker couch as she read a book and drank iced tea. She looked up when I opened the door, the large hat on her head making it difficult for me to see her expression.

  “Austin?” She set the glass of iced tea down and turned the book over onto the arm of her chair to save her place. Standing up, she brushed imaginary wrinkles out of her linen pants and then stepped toward me, her arms open wide. “What a surprise darling,” she cooed.

  Before she could reach me, I held up my hand and asked, “Are you the reason Frankie missed opening night? Did you convince her to leave Vegas?”

  My mother paused, and her arms dropped to her sides. She worked hard to hide her surprise, but even she, the master of manipulation, wasn’t quick enough to hide the truth. “Whatever would have given you that idea?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  “Did you know about the baby?” I asked, not bothering to answer her question.

  She lifted her chin, and I could see in her eyes that she was going to lie. Or at least give me the smallest version of truth she possibly could. Nervously, she folded her hands in front of her, and her chin wobbled as she spoke.

  “Francesca told me that she was pregnant, yes.”

  I was sick to my stomach. She had known then. My mother had known all these years and never
told me. “Did you send her away?”

  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I suggested—”

  “Did. You. Send. Her. Away?” I interrupted, emphasizing each word to make sure she understood I only wanted the facts. I’d had enough of her manipulative bullshit. I’d suffered through enough of her guilt trips over the years—do this for Dallas; your brother needs you; he can’t do this without you; he’s sick, Austin. I was in no mood to hear anything but the truth now.

  She swallowed, wrapping one arm around her middle as she reached up to place her hand over her throat like she had to force herself to speak. “Yes.”

  “Mother!” Abby said in a shocked whisper. “How could you?”

  “What did you say to her?” I took a step closer, crossing my arms over my chest. “What did you say to make her leave?”

  With a careless shrug of her shoulder, she looked away, like she was embarrassed. “I helped her understand that you needed to focus. That you couldn’t afford any distractions.” My mother met my gaze, her eyes narrowed. “You were making all sorts of mistakes the week leading up to opening night, all because you were nervous about seeing her again. I couldn’t let her be the distraction that ruined your career. Because it wasn’t just your life that would have been ruined. It would have been Dallas’s too.”

  “Ruined?” I laughed, but it held no humor. “Do you think I gave a shit about that show? Having Frankie there would have grounded me more than anything. But even if she had been a distraction, that was my choice to make. Not yours.”

  “Your future, your life, that is always my concern,” she shot back. “I wasn’t going to let all that hard work get thrown away for some girl. One person isn’t worth the future of my sons. Especially a girl like that.”

  I fisted my hands in my hair, pulling hard as I paced back and forth. I tried to imagine what Frankie had felt, coming all the way out to Vegas, by herself, barely old enough to be called an adult. She had a massive secret to share and she expected me, her boyfriend, her best friend, to pick her up at the airport. Instead, she’d met a snake. One who had filled her head with doubt and sent her away.

  Deep down, past all the hurt and disbelief, I knew that Frankie hadn’t decided to leave on her own. Whatever her reason, I was certain that my mother had planted it there and that if I had been the one to show up at the airport, everything would have been different. Frankie had done the wrong thing, had made the wrong choice, but what my mother had done was cruel and devious and manipulative. Maybe she sensed that Frankie was the type of person to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  I thought back to the Satin Cashmere Massacre and knew she was.

  I finally stopped pacing and looked up at my mother. I could feel how bloodshot my eyes must have been because they were stinging with lack of sleep and unshed sorrow. “How could you keep my child a secret from me? No matter how much you hated Frankie, how could you send her away and abandon your own grandchild?”

  “So she kept it?” My mother licked her lips and glanced away nervously.

  I stared at her in shock. “Why would you think she wouldn’t?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “She wasn’t that far along. It would have been easier for her to get rid of it.”

  Horror and disgust twisted inside my chest. “You told her to get rid of my child?”

  My mother pressed her lips together in annoyance. “Just because she said it was your child doesn’t make it truth, Austin. You’d just won a reality show and had a residency in Vegas that was worth millions. Of course she would try to trap you with a pregnancy. She just wanted your money,” she snapped.

  “Frankie wouldn’t lie.” I shook my head. “Besides, money doesn’t matter to her. Not like that.”

  “Oh really?” My mother tilted her head, a smug look crossing her face. “Because she was pretty quick to take the money I offered her.”

  It took a few seconds for those words to truly sink in. “What?” My voice was like a gunshot, loud and deadly.

  Fifty thousand dollars. That’s where Frankie had gotten the money. That’s what my future in Dueling Cellos had cost my mother.

  She blinked as if just realizing the blunder she’d made. Her eyes were full of panic, and I could almost see that insidious mind of hers looking for a way to turn her confession into something completely different. “Austin, I…”

  “You paid to get rid of your grandchild? What kind of fucking monster are you?” I backed away like I was seeing her for the first time. It was one thing for her to try to convince Frankie to leave. But to pay her? It was so…dirty. So cold and heartless.

  Her panic dissolved and her expression went livid with anger. She ripped off her sunhat and threw it on the ground. “I’m the monster? I’m the monster?” she screeched. “She’s the one that took the money Austin. She cashed the check. She never came back for you. I have been here every step of the way. So tell me again how I’m the monster?”

  I approached my mother like I would approach a dangerous animal. I should have realized long ago that she was more animal than mother anyway. She never did things to make us happy. Her decisions always reflected the things she wanted, the things that made her happy.

  “No wonder Frankie left and never came back. You paid the mother of my child to disappear. You suggested that she get rid of your grandchild. You explain to me how you’re not a monster,” I said, my voice thick with disgust. I took a deep breath to calm myself and looked at Abby who was staring at both of us, horrified. “I guess the only thing you can be grateful for is that at least one of your children never knew the full depth of your depravity.” I cast a glance toward the couch where Dallas had spent the last moments of his life, and my mother reluctantly followed my gaze.

  When I spun around and left without another word, she was still staring at the vacant cushions.

  ***

  When my plane landed in Baltimore, I was too exhausted to drive home. I’d completely lost track of time, and I couldn’t remember when I’d last slept. Knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to face what was at the house until I’d gotten some rest, I took an Uber to a nearby hotel, and then collapsed into bed.

  ***

  The little girl sat on the back porch, staring into the distance where the sun was setting behind the trees. She was wearing a bike helmet, and her unruly brown hair was tied back into a low ponytail, but wisps had escaped framing her sweet, angelic face. When I approached, she looked up, and I noticed that she had one blue eye and one gray one.

  “There you are,” she said. Her eyes dropped to my side, and lit up with pleasure when she saw what was in my hand. “And you brought donuts!”

  I looked down in surprise to see that she was right and I wondered if she had magically wished them into my hands because I couldn’t remember getting them. I sat down next to the girl and placed the box between us. She lifted the lid and pulled out two pastries, handing me the one with the hole in it while she took the one covered in chocolate and stuffed with cream filling.

  I finished my donut and looked sideways to see her eyes fixed on the trees. “How is the sunset tonight?” I asked.

  She shoved the rest of her treat in her mouth and then had to work hard to answer me since her mouth was full. “I wasn’t watching the sunset. I was waiting for you.”

  ***

  I sat up in bed, the remnants of my dream pounding through my mind, working its way into my chest and making my heart ache. Was I dreaming about Moxie or Frankie? And did it really matter which one it was? I had unfinished business with both of them, and it was time to have that long overdue talk. A glance at the alarm clock informed me that it was almost noon.

  Still dressed in the same clothes I’d been wearing the afternoon I went to Frankie’s for lunch, I left my hotel room and headed home.

  With my heart in my throat, I went straight to Frankie’s and knocked on her front door even though her truck wasn’t in the driveway. When she didn’t answer, I decided to go home and show
er. And hope that she’d come home soon.

  When I got out of the shower and realized she still hadn’t returned, I finally decided to track down my phone and check the messages. There were a dozen from Frankie and one from my mother. I skipped the one from my mom and listened to the other messages. The first one was desperate, the one Frankie left the day Moxie showed up unexpectedly, and I could hear the terror in her voice when she begged me to call her back before I came over.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and listened to it a few times. She didn’t speak as if she was trying to cheat me. Her voice held the terror of someone who had made a horrible mistake and had run out of time to make it right.

  The other messages had all been left after I was at her house and they became increasingly hopeless, begging me to at least give her a chance to apologize, and I wondered if that was how my messages to her had sounded after she’d left Vegas four years ago. Had I sounded so hopeless? Had she ever listened to those messages?

  I finally reached the next to last message.

  “Hi, Austin. It’s Frankie. I know that I don’t deserve to hear from you. I know I have hurt you. I just want the chance to apologize and beg you to meet Moxie. If you don’t want to see me, I understand. I could…I could leave her with Miss Rose, and you could go there to see her. It’s just…she’s….”

  There was a pause, and I heard Frankie choke back a sob. Her voice was scratchy like she’d been crying for a while.

  “It’s not her fault. The decision I made. Please don’t punish her because I was stupid. She’s your daughter, and she’s so clever and curious and sweet. I know that you’ll love her. She’s got your calm personality, and she loves to sing. I haven’t…” Frankie’s voice broke. “I haven’t gotten her cello lessons or really any lessons at all. The money wasn’t always there, but she plays around on Beth’s old piano, and you would be amazed at what she’s taught herself.”

  Frankie sniffled.

  “She can sound out tunes she hears on the radio. I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but Moxie? Oh my God, Austin…music lives in her like it does in you and did in Dallas. And I’m so proud of the fact that you lived your dream. I showed Moxie every news article and picture I could find, and she thinks you’re the best. She can’t wait to meet you. I…”