by Mandi Beck
He huffs out an exasperated breath, which I ignore.
“Fine, can you tell me what happened to her then? I got a phone call from a friend of ours who happened to see the story on the news and I came immediately. She said that the news wasn't saying much. Is it because they don't know anything?”
Answering him is like torture. I don't want to talk to him at all, let alone hash out what happened that night.
“They don't know much because she hasn't woken up to tell them what went down yet. All they have to go on is that she said Andrew’s name when she called me and that they haven't been able to find him since that night.”
I can see the shock and confusion on his face.
“Why? Why would he do this to her? I don't understand.”
That makes two of us, but I’m not about to bond with his ass over it.
“I called her just a couple of weeks ago when I heard the news that she was engaged,” he says more to himself than me.
“You spoke to her?” This was news to me. “Did you talk often?”
He gave a tiny shake of his head.
“No, maybe a few times a year. My girlfriend didn't like it. I called her to congratulate her, but I couldn't do it.” He shakes his head again as if remembering. “I told her not to marry him, that I'd move back, teach with her, and compete here.”
If I thought I was tense before, not even close. Now I’m about two point five seconds from completely going ballistic at his words. It’s as if he doesn’t even realize that he’s saying them out loud. He almost seems dazed and a little out of it, but still he goes on.
“She was so angry. She said ‘Why does everyone keep doing this to me?’ I didn’t understand what she meant, and before I could ask her, she hung up on me, and I haven’t talked to her since.”
He’s still looking down at her, holding her hand, lost in his own thoughts, and I in mine. I knew what she was talking about. First me and then him…seems like Cristiano didn’t realize a good thing when he had it right in front of him either. I’ll be damned if I’d give him a chance to change that though. This Rico Suave motherfucker is not going to get in between me and Frankie. I’ve already let Andrew do that and it nearly killed her. I am done with that shit. I’m ready to fight dirty if I have to, and the way he’s looking at her with love and longing in his eyes and the gentle way he holds her hand tells me that I’m going to have to do just that. I’m ready. She’s worth it and we both know it.
Before I can voice my plan and start an all-out war, Mav sticks his head in. “Times up. I gotta get my Princess fix before Guy gets here.”
He looks like he’s about to argue. I can see how pissed he is that he really has no say, no place in her life anymore that would earn him the right. He just nods and then leans down whispering in Spanish. I’m not fluent, but I understand enough because of Frankie and her love of languages, always spouting off with her multilingual talents. I catch every couple words and they piss me off. I hear “Blah, blah…I’m here now, my love…blah, blah…safe….blah, blah, blah…not leaving again,” before I clear my throat and ask, “Shouldn’t you go and call your girlfriend, let her know that you landed safely?”
The look he gives me is murderous, which does nothing but make me smile at him. He lays her hand down and walks out without another word to either of us.
“Well, that went well, huh? Reggie said there had been a ‘moment.’ You want to tell me about it?” Mav asks, his eyebrows raised.
“Not really, though I will say it’s a good thing that you made me promise not to go to blows before you left.”
I’m not sure why I expect him to be surprised by that, but he isn’t.
“I’m not a dumbass, Deac. I see you, brother. I see how you’re barely hanging on to your sanity as it is and then he shows up. You’re a minute away from detonation, and it’d take a whole lot less than Cristiano to set you off right now.”
He must see the pissed off look on my face because he quickly says, “Nobody blames you for being on edge, Deacon. Hell, we’re all riding the fence right now. We’re just not as volatile as you are.”
He says the last part on a chuckle to lessen the blow a bit. He’s right, I know it, and clearly so does everyone else.
Long after Mav leaves, I’m still sitting here just watching her, willing her to wake up. I sigh loudly and pull my chair closer to the bed, taking her hand in mine and brushing the hair off her forehead, careful not to touch any of her wounds. Her mouth is pulled down in a frown, which is not the norm for my girl when she’s awake, but it reminds me of a time when we were younger.
“Hey, Frankie, you remember that time in high school that tool, Nick, asked you out? He came to your dad’s to pick you up and my brothers and I made sure that we were there to answer the door?” Smiling as I recall his face, I continue, “He was so scared, Princess. Stuttering and shit. It was so hard for us not to laugh at him. Fuck, you were so pissed.” I laugh softly. Gently, I take her hand and place a kiss to my spot, exhaling against her wrist and say quietly, “Even then, I knew, Frankie. Even then, when I was too young to appreciate you, when I was doing my best to keep the guys away from you, pretending like I was doing it to protect you like some kind of big brother. Even then, I knew that I loved you and not just like the pain in the ass little sister that Mav and Sonny treated you like. I loved you, but I wasn’t ready for you. I hadn’t earned the right for you to love me back yet.”
I’m not sure what time it is or what has woken me up. Slowly I open my eyes and take in the dimly lit room without actually moving my head, since my neck feels like one big knot. “Without You” is still playing. I’d been feeling the weight of missing Frankie in a big way yesterday and had put it on repeat…guess I fell asleep before turning it off.
I’m sitting in my usual chair with one of my hands tucked underneath Frankie’s thigh, my head resting practically in her lap and my other hand loosely holding hers, which is how I find myself waking up most days. Any way that I can touch her, even in sleep, I’m taking it. If I weren’t so damn big and afraid of hurting her, I’d climb into the bed next to her.
I take a deep breath and let my eyes start to drift shut again, when I feel a soft touch like fingers running through my hair. I slowly raise my head, not willing to believe after ten long days that she might actually be awake, and turn to look at the head of the bed. My girl is there, blue eyes open, the most beautiful fucking sight I have ever seen. I squeeze my eyes shut and put my head back down in her lap as the guttural sob rips through me, tears that I hadn’t allowed myself to cry streaming down my face and onto the blanket, my shoulders shaking. I feel her soothing me with her gentle touch on my head. My body still trembling beneath the weight of my emotions, I start to gather her and everything on the bed into me, bringing the Princess closer, but stop myself before I can hurt her or dislodge anything.
It all came crashing down on me at once the moment I saw those blues, the ones I’d been afraid I would never see again. All of the rage that had been consuming me, the absolute terror at the possibility that she might not come back to me. It was all coming to the surface and spilling over. It takes everything I have to pull it together and look at her again, to accept the reality that she’s here. My girl is awake and she is taking care of me while she lies in the ICU. Typical.
Taking a deep breath, I face Frankie and take her in. Her bruises have faded to angry shades of purple and green with some yellow and blue thrown in for good measure. The cuts all over her body are finally starting to heal, although a plastic surgeon did have to stitch a few closed because of how deep they were. For once I have no idea what to say to her. I’m so relieved I’m literally speechless.
“Princess—” My voice cracks, my chin hits my chest, as I take in another shaky breath. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Fucking hell, I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see those beautiful blues eyes, baby. So fucking happy.”
The tears are forming again but there is nothing I can do abo
ut it. I shake my head and bring her hand up to my mouth and kiss my spot on the inside of her wrist. She reaches out and touches my still beat-up face and split brow, concern in her eyes. Frankie opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She struggles to swallow past what I’m sure is the worst case of cotton mouth ever. I reach past her to grab the pitcher of water on the tray table and pour her some, still not letting go of her.
Bringing the straw to her mouth I tell her, “Slow, small sips. I’m not sure if you should even have any of this right now. I need to call for the nurse.”
She nods her understanding as she takes a small sip and finally speaks.
“How long have I been here? How long have you been here?”
Her voice is even raspier than usual, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s talking. I grab for the call button hanging from the bed and press it, summoning the nurse.
Instead of answering her question, I ask one of my own.
“Do you know who I am, Frankie?”
I don’t know why that is so important to me right now, but it’s something that I have worried about. You see it in the movies all of the fucking time. Person gets in accident, wakes up from coma, has no fucking clue who the poor asshole crying at their bedside is, no idea that it’s actually their person. And whether she knows it or not, or is ready for this, for us, I am her person and she is mine.
She gives a little rusty laugh, “Like I could ever forget who you are, Deacon.”
Her voice sounds so weak, it makes me nervous.
“I know that’s right,” she insists.
I wink at her and squeeze her hand, not letting my worry show.
“I—
Whatever she is about to say is interrupted by the nurse rushing in.
“Oh! Look who’s awake! Why, hello there, pretty girl. I’m Pam, your nurse for the next little while at least. Mary will be here soon and she is going to be thrilled to see that you have joined us. This one here has been giving her a hard time.” She tilts her head in my direction.
“I don’t doubt that for a minute. He can be a bit of a bully sometimes,” Frankie says while trying to smile at me. I can see that interacting is really starting to take its toll and that she won’t be awake for much longer.
“Only when it comes to my girl, Frankie. Gotta take care of you.”
“How cute is he? Now get out of here so that I can check out my patient. I’ll page Dr. Ashley now, and if it’s ok with Francesca, you can come back in when he gets here.”
Locking eyes with Frankie, I smile reassuringly, “I’ll be in the hall calling everyone. Your Pop and Indie will probably want up here.”
“Not tonight, Mr. Love. You can tell them she’s awake and that I’ll be able to let them up here no sooner than 7 a.m.”
I’m about to argue when she starts talking again.
“Mary lets you stay because you’re not coming and going during off hours. She would have to get clearance to let anyone up here in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t push my luck with her or she might revoke your slumber party rights.”
The nurse is talking to me, but I’m not paying much attention, instead I’m watching her work on Frankie. I catch a flinch of pain, which puts me on edge and causes that muscle in my jaw to start dancing.
“Careful with her, Nurse Ratchet,” I say in as playful a voice as I can, because I’m really not fucking playing.
With closed eyes, nearly asleep, Frankie says, “Get out of here, Deac, and let her be. She’s being very gentle.” I can barely hear her now, Frankie’s voice is so low.
“I’m going. I’ll be right outside the door here waiting for Dr. Ashley and making my calls.”
As I’m leaving, I look back just as the nurse is pulling the curtain to give her privacy, and the look on my girl’s face about does me in. She looks sad and lost, tired and scared, just broken inside and out, and I hate it.
She is so strong and confident in everything she does, and to see her like this makes my fucking heart hurt.
“Hey, Princess!”
Frankie’s eyes open slowly, her brows raised in question.
“I’m here, okay? Everything is going to be all right. I got you, Frankie. Always.”
She gives me a watery smile and nods her head in agreement, the braids and barrette that Indie put in her hair making her look incredibly young, which only add to her air of vulnerability.
“Detectives.” I nod at Flores—I still don’t like that cagey prick—as I reach across to shake Detective Adams’ hand.
Her I like, and not because she’s a woman either. I’m not sure what it is about her, but I feel like she has my girl’s best interests at heart. Frankie isn’t just another case to her; she actually matters.
“Frankie is having some tests done. I’m not sure when she’ll be back or if she’ll be up to talking with you today. It’s already been a clusterfuck of a day for her.”
Adams nods her head in understanding. “I promise not to push her, Mr. Love. It’s just better to do this as soon as possible so that things are fresh, and she’s already been out for so long. We don’t want whoever did this to get away with it.”
I grunt my agreement. I know who fucking did it, they just need to find his sorry ass.
“We’ll be back in a bit,” Adams says, smiling reassuringly at me.
“Sounds good, I’ll be here,” I tell them, heading back into Frankie’s room as they walk away.
About an hour later, she’s rolled into the room. The nurse locks the bed and goes about hanging up fluid bags and messing with the rest of the shit Frankie is still hooked to. My girl looks exhausted, mentally and physically. She turns her head toward me and gives me a small smile.
“Hey, Princess, how did it go?” I ask her while reaching for her hand, kissing my spot.
“I slept through most of it,” she tells me in a quiet voice.
“That’s good. You need your rest, baby. Listen, the detectives were here and they want to ask you some questions about that night. I told them that you may not feel up to it, so just say the word and I’ll have them come back another day,” I tell her as I brush the hair off of her forehead.
“Will you stay with me, Deac? I don’t want anyone else in here though. Not my dad or Indie, only you.”
Her tone is pleading, which hurts me. I’m glad that she trusts me though, that she asked, because there is no way that I’m not going to be here. I need to know what actually happened that night. I haven’t had the time to talk to her about it yet.
“Of course I’ll stay.”
Giving her a reassuring smile I turn to her nurse.
“Can you make sure that everyone stays in the waiting room when the detectives are in here, please? Blame it on me if you have to; I don’t mind being the bad guy. I usually am anyway.” I give her a wink to further convince her that she should do my bidding.
“No problem. I’ll keep them out and send the detectives in once I’m finished here,” she tells us, patting Frankie’s leg.
I turn my eyes back to Frankie and notice that her eyes are closed, her breathing slow. She’s out. Chuckling, I let her sleep. I’ll wake her when they come in to grill her.
I feel someone gently nudging me, trying to wake me. Opening my eyes, I see Deac smiling from what I’ve noticed is his usual spot next to my bed. I feel bad that he has been sleeping in the horribly uncomfortable looking chair, but also relieved that he’s there.
“There’s my girl. The detectives are here to talk to you. You feeling okay?” he asks while stroking his hand over my hair. Deacon is a toucher, always has been.
Struggling to sit up, I clear my throat and nod. Every muscle in my body aches. The already throbbing joints scream out when I shift, but it’s nothing compared to the emotional agony I’m about to be in. I’ve played that night over and over in my head, but so many parts are fuzzy. It frustrates me. Makes me anxious.
I glance warily at the detectives standing just inside the room. One is a tall, striking
woman; the other, a bulky, stone-faced man. The woman steps forward, coming closer to my bed, hand extended.
“Hello, Miss De Rosa. My name is Detective Adams. I’m happy to see you awake. You gave everyone quite a scare.” Her smile eases my nerves a bit.
I release Deacon’s hand to shake the one she has offered.
Detective Adams motions in the man’s direction, “That’s my partner, Detective Flores. We’re just here to ask you a few questions about the night you were assaulted. Do you think you’re up to it?” Still with that gentle smile on her face, she releases my hand and it helps calm me.
Giving her a small nod, she grabs the chair from across the room and pulls it over to my bedside.
“If at any time you need a break just let us know,” Detective Adams says with empathy laced in her voice.
“Okay.” I look at her partner who standing there and I tense up.
Detective Adams doesn’t miss my reaction and she places her hand next to mine, drawing my attention back to her. “If you like, I can have the boys leave and we can just chat. Do you mind if I call you Francesca?”
My hand automatically finds Deacon’s and I grip it tightly.
I shake my head no and draw a deep breath. “No, I don’t mind. I’m tired, but I would like to get this over with, so we can do it now.”
“Remember, Francesca, any details will help us find who did this to you. Nothing is too big or small. So just take your time and walk us through anything you remember.” Detective Adams makes sure that I understand what she is saying. “Okay? Whenever you’re ready....”
I nod again, apparently it’s all I am capable of. I glance over at Deacon, his hair pulled back in a messy man bun. He squeezes my hand reassuringly and leans forward closer to me, which calms me. I’m a little uneasy and unsure about how he’s going to react—you can never tell with him—but I know it’s not going to be good. It’s selfish for me to ask him to stay, but I need him to be able to get through this.
Ready to just get this over with, I sit a second, trying to rein in my galloping heart. I look one more time at Deacon, who is looking down at our joined hands, and then back to Detective Adams, bracing myself for the task at hand of reliving the nightmare of that day and fighting my own mind for the details.