Love Hurts

by Mandi Beck

  “Deacon, you are being ridiculous,” Frankie cries out. “You are not sleeping here. It’s bad enough that you are making Reggie stay. You can’t stay too,” she says, but her tone is questioning as if she’s not entirely sure that’s true. It’s not.

  “I can and will do whatever I want, Princess. Don’t you forget it.” I tap her nose and stride over to the couch flopping down. “Jones!” I yell. “Bring me some food, woman!”

  Poking her bandana covered head out of the kitchen, she flips me off and says, “You must have lost your motherfucking mind. Get it yourself and get your feet off of my furniture while you’re at it, you animal.”

  I look over at a smiling and exhausted Frankie. “Come sit next to me. You look like you’re about to drop.” As she makes her way slowly over, I notice the lines of pain bracketing her mouth, the way she has an arm wrapped around her torso to hold her ribs. “Would it help if I carried you?” I ask in all seriousness.

  Startled, she looks up at me and I can see that there are tears in her eyes from the hurt she’s suffering, and it kills me. “I think that might make it worse, if that’s even possible, but thanks, Deac. You know, I’m just going to go and lie down in my room instead. I’m really tired and I’m afraid that once I land somewhere, that’s going to be my spot until tomorrow. Might as well make that spot be my bed.” She laughs tightly and maneuvers around the coffee table, heading to her room.

  Her suffering is the hardest thing for me to watch. I just want to make everything better, and not being able to is about to do my ass in. Unfolding myself from the couch, I go over and take her arm gently. I’m not sure where to touch her that won’t hurt. She still has little cuts all over her, on top of the broken ribs and lingering concussion. I don’t want to make it worse, but I need to help her. For me.

  Once in the room, I rush forward and pull the blanket down on the new bed I ordered. One of those mechanical things so that she can be comfortable. I hand over the remote which allows her to lower the bed, making it easier to get in. As she sits on the edge of the bed, I help her to scoot back, then squat to take her shoes off. “You want to keep your socks on or do you still hate sleeping with them?” I ask, tossing the shoes behind me.

  When she doesn’t answer, I look up and see that the tears are really flowing now. Not just tears because she’s in pain, these are different. These are fear, anguish, exhaustion, and defeat. All things I can’t bear to see on her. My thumb swipes at them. “Hey, what’s this?” I ask quietly. She struggles to suck in a breath, her taped ribs making it hard. Gingerly lowering myself onto the bed next to her, I tuck her into my side as gently as possible. Once we’re settled, I lift her wrist for a kiss. “Shhhh, I’m here now, baby. I swear to you, I will never let him put hands on you again. I’ll never let anyone put hands on you again.”

  Shoulders shaking, she turns her face into my chest, her sadness soaking through the thin cotton of my shirt, burning my skin. I make a promise to myself right then that if I find him before the cops do, he won’t survive me. Not a chance in hell would I let him get away with breaking Frankie.

  After a few minutes of me whispering soothing words and stroking a hand over her head and back, I can tell by her breathing that she’s asleep. Carefully I lay her down, pulling the blanket up. I watch as she sleeps, her tear-stained face the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She’s making me soft. I turn away from her before I have the urge to read her a damn bedtime story or some shit and go to the window checking the locks. Satisfied that she is locked in tight, I hit the lights and close the door behind me.

  Everyone is still asleep. I’m in the kitchen waiting on the coffee when I hear shuffling and a hiss. I turn just in time to see Frankie grab the doorframe in pain. “Damn it, Princess. Did you take your pain meds before getting out of bed?”

  She hits me with a vicious glare—the lady is definitely not a good patient. “No, I didn’t, because they’re in here on the counter.”

  I’m a little afraid of this Frankie. Fairly certain that any minute now her head is going to start spinning. “Okay. Well, let’s get you in a chair and I’ll bring you everything you need, baby.” A smile and a wink get me nothing, so I concentrate on settling her at the table and collecting the pain meds and a glass of water. As she takes her pills, I pray that they kick in quickly for both our sakes. Reaching into the cabinet, I bring down mugs for our coffee, chuckling when I read that one says: “Caution! Very hot. Blow Me.” Maybe that will get a smile out of her. A shit ton of cream and sugar later, I hand Frankie a coffee and sit across from her with my “Blow Me” mug. “Isn’t this nice? Just you and I sitting around drinking our coffee. We could be doing this in my kitchen so that I wouldn’t have to sleep on Indie’s uncomfortable ass couch, but whatever.”

  Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her cup and I don’t like what I see there. My smile slips away. Slowly she puts her coffee down. “Deacon, thank you. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry that you had to forfeit fights to sit by and babysit me. Th—”

  “I wasn’t babysitting you. You were hurt. Fuck, we could’ve lost you!” I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I can feel myself getting angry. I don’t want to lose my cool in front of her after everything that she’s been through. Rolling my lips in over my teeth, I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

  “It’s okay,” she reassures me. “I just want you to know that I appreciate it and you. But—this can’t—we can’t…” Exasperated she huffs out, “I’m just not ready to get into what we talked about at my party and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Not meeting my eyes she goes on “I don’t know how this works or where we go from here, how to navigate us now that everything is out in the open.” She trails off bringing her eyes to mine.

  That anger I was trying to beat down is fighting its way to the surface, turning into frustration. Scratching at the stubble covering my chin, I weigh out my words. “So, what you’re saying is you’re scared. I get that. Don’t you think I get that?” I can hear the desperation and exasperation in my voice.

  “I am scared. I’m tired. I’m hurt. I only want to thank you because I know that you didn’t have to be there. Not many people would’ve been.” Frankie sighs wearily and continues, “But as grateful as I am, it still doesn’t change anything with us. I don’t want to…” Again, her voice trails off like she can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

  Slowly I stand and place my mug down with a heavy thud, making her flinch. My feelings are completely unreasonable right now but I can’t help them. I can’t fight the frustration, anger or the guilt that I feel. It’s not her fault. None of it is. I struggle to get my emotions in check and do my damnedest to let her know that I understand. I get that me staying by her side doesn’t make us a couple. I just need to be sure that she knows that’s not why I’m there. Why I’m still here. Her doubting my motives in the slightest kills me.

  “Tell me one time I haven’t been there when you needed me, Princess. One time that I haven’t dropped everything to be by your side, whether it was a dance, a plumbing problem, a broken heart.” My voice is controlled now, but breaks when I say, “Except for this one crucial time, I’ve always been your go-to guy. I couldn’t save you from him that night, but I’m doing my best to save you from him now. I’m not here because I think it’s going to get me into your pants quicker.” I’m disgusted with this whole conversation. I place my palms on the table and lean toward her, forcing her to see me. “I’m here because I love you. But I’ve always loved you. That hasn’t changed. Only the way I love you has.”

  She holds my gaze for a beat before glancing down at the hands gripping her mug, “Please, I just need time to figure out what I want. If this—” she moves her hand in between us, “is what I want.” Our eyes meet. I can see the affliction in hers and I need out.

  I straighten abruptly from the sting of her words and nod, letting her know I hear her. Turning I stride out of the kitchen befo
re I give myself the chance to hurt either of us any more than I already have.

  The Princess has been home from the hospital for a couple months now, back at the gym for one, and it is both heaven and hell. I have either Reggie or Trent with her at all times because they still haven’t found that douche bag, Drew.

  Things between her and I have been a little strained ever since that morning in Indie’s kitchen. I know that a lot of that has been the fear talking, and add to that the physical pain that she’s in, and it’s a fucking miracle we still talk at all, no matter how stilted.

  I lashed out at her when I shouldn’t have and I know a lot of that was because I feel partly to blame for everything that went down with Drew. Although deep down, I know that’s ridiculous, I can’t stop it. In my mind I let my girl down, wasn’t there to protect her because I was too busy getting my dick sucked by some chick whose name I don’t even know. All because my feelings were hurt. Hell, thinking about all I'd done over those last couple weeks when we hadn’t been speaking made me want to kick my own ass! I know that we weren’t together, but it still feels all wrong. If I’m honest with myself, it hadn’t felt right while I was doing it either. I had just needed something to take away the hurt I felt from her rejection. Her refusing to take my calls, not calling me for two long ass months was exactly that: rejection. It fucked with my head, pissed me off, and I’m not at my best when I get like that. That was one of those times.

  Frankie’s busy getting back to her normal routine, or as normal as she can. She’s still pretty banged up and it’s slowing her down, which pisses her off to no end. We still haven’t talked about us, and I blame that on that prick Cristiano still hanging around. She was really excited to see him. Too fucking excited. He decided that he needs to stick around and help her with her classes and whatever else he can do when it comes to her dance studio. Don’t think I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing. I make sure to bring up his girlfriend every chance I get. I’m tempted to fly her ass here for a little surprise visit. I miss my girl, and not just the one I want wrapped around my cock, but my friend as well.

  Walking into the gym used to bring me such a sense of peace, but lately I’m pretty sure it’s doing the exact opposite, which in turn is pissing me off on top of being pissed off.

  My brothers are blowing me shit about it because it’s fucking with my training, and I can’t afford that shit right now. I bowed out of the season, taking forfeit after forfeit in order to be with Frankie in the hospital and even after because I wasn’t ready to go on the road and leave her. So now I’m busting ass to try to make up points and get back in the standings for the championship.

  I avoid looking over at her studio knowing that she and Flashdance will be in there together doing whatever the fuck they do, and instead make my way to my brothers who are talking over by the mats. I almost reach them when I hear Jay- Z and Linkin Park talking about 99 problems coming from my pocket. I pull my phone out and see a picture of Indie flipping me off on my screen. Why do these chicks insist on fucking with my phone?

  “Now’s not the time, Jones. I’m not in the mood for any of your shit today,” I say in way of greeting.

  “Well, hello to you too, Deacon. I see you’re doing fanfuckingtastic so I won’t bother asking. Listen, asshat, you need to step up your game with Frankie. I mean, now that Cristiano is hanging around so much, all of this giving her space BS is going to blow up in your face. Don’t get me wrong, I really like him. Seriously, what’s not to like? He’s a little too refined for me, but he’s still sweet and sexy, and then there’s that fucking accent. Mmm…did I men-”

  “INDIANA! Do you have a fucking point besides trying to make me lose my shit?” I yell, pulling the phone away from my ear and talking into it like a walkie talkie just in case she’s still going on about the asshole. “Plus I thought you were into chicks.” Smirking even though I’m frustrated, I wait for her to blast me. I know damn well she swings both ways, I just like to give her hell.

  “Shut up! You know I play for both teams, asshole. Don’t be jealous that Frankie is sleeping in my bed and not yours,” she teases mockingly.

  “I’m hanging up,” I snap.

  “God, you’re touchy today,” she huffs. “Deac, I’ve known you forever and I’ve tolerated your man-whoring and your all around douchebaggery because of Frankie. She has always seen the good in you, though I don’t know why, and I know that you would never hurt her on purpose…so I’ve decided to try and help you.”

  “Help me? Help me what?”

  “With Frankie dumbass!” she scolds.

  “Indie, as touching as your words are,” I roll my eyes at that, “I don’t need your help. I’m giving her space for now, but if you think for one fucking minute that I am gonna let Rico Suave have my girl, you’re even crazier than I thought. Frankie is mine. I’m just giving her some time to get used to the fact that there will be no more pretty boys for her,” I say with way more confidence than I feel at the moment.

  “Do you feel better now? Do you need to beat your chest a little like the caveman that you clearly are? Just do me a favor and try not to piss all over my friend while you’re marking your territory, ass,” she grumbles right before she hangs up on me.

  What-the-fuck-ever. The women in my life are driving me out of my fucking mind and I’m not even fucking any of them! Hell, I’m not fucking anybody. Maybe that’s my problem—I need to be balls deep in some stranger. It’s been way too long. Definitely not my first choice, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to talk Frankie into a little friends-with-benefits action right now, especially with Cristiano around.

  My mind made up, I feel a little of the tension drain from my body. I meet my brothers on the mat and slap Sonny’s back hard enough to make him stumble a bit. “Let’s go out tonight—I need to get laid.”

  That night as we’re walking into our usual stomping grounds, Hawkey Time, I feel the weight of my plan kicking my ass. I haven’t fucked around with anyone since the night I got that phone call and not because I haven’t had it offered, because I have, repeatedly and often. I’ve been on a dry spell because the only one I want is Frankie, and for once I don’t feel the need to get lost in some meaningless ass. I talk a big game most of the time, but I know what I want and what I want is her, and there isn’t a chick in here that is going to compare. Project “Get Some” just turned into a boys’ night out with my brothers and Trent. Most likely ending with me stroking my own cock when I get home. When did I become this fucking guy?

  We’ve been here for two hours just drinking, dicking around, and turning down advances from women left and right when shit gets real.

  “Ohhhhh fuuuuuuck,” Sonny says under his breath.

  I’m more drunk than I’ve been in a long time, so I’m a little slow on the uptake when I see the Princess headed our way with Flashdance right behind her, a hand on her back to guide her. Reggie follows them, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. You have got to be fucking kidding me, right? I mean, who the fuck keeps testing me like this, and how much can I take before I go off?

  I glance briefly at Sonny and Mav and they both look a little worried. At least those two haven’t had more than a beer each…someone’s going to need to have a clear head for this.

  “My Loves! What are you guys doing here?” she asks in that voice that hits me straight in the dick every time.

  “Just blowing off some steam. Deac’s been training hard…we’ve got some big fights coming up,” Mav tells her as he gives her a hug and a small wave in Cristiano’s direction.

  She pecks Sonny on the cheek and waves to Trent and then turns to me.

  “I’m surprised that you’re drinking. You normally don’t allow yourself when you’re training.” She tilts her head a little baffled.

  I know that if I open my mouth, something hateful is going to come out because of Cristiano standing with his hand on her like he has every right to, so I just shrug and ignore the hurt look that crosses her face. I d
on’t even greet her; I can’t bring myself to touch her in the slightest way right now. I am too drunk, too on edge, and I don’t trust myself.

  “You guys want to join us? There’s plenty of room,” Sonny, ever the nice guy, asks them.

  As Frankie is answering yes, Cristiano is saying no, and I don’t know whether to be pissed off or happy about that. She glances over at him.

  “Oh, did you want to sit somewhere else?”

  “No, no, mi amor. This is fine, I just wasn’t sure that there would be room for all of us once Indie shows up.”

  “My love?” Really? Fuck him.

  She laughs. “There’s always room for Indie…don’t you worry about her!”

  That gets a laugh out of everybody at the table—well, everyone but my moody ass.

  There is one chair open next to me and one on the other side of Mav. It’s clear that I’m not moving, so while Cristiano is helping Frankie off with her coat, Sonny moves around the table to the empty seat next to Mav so that Cristiano and Frankie can sit together. Why the fuck they need to sit together is beyond me. Just as she’s sitting in the chair to my right, she leans in and brushes a kiss across my cheek. It feels like white hot heat shoots throughout my body, and all I can do is lean into her kiss and inhale her scent. A scent that I know so well, a scent that I could pick out of a room full of heavily perfumed women. I’m instantly hard and have to adjust myself as she settles into her chair. She sits and crosses her legs, the skirt of her cream-colored sweater dress rising up revealing her garter belt tattoo. My eyes are riveted to the spot, and all I can think about is how I want to lick it, bite at her inner thigh where the ink wraps around, kiss and suck the lace that I know is so close to the crease of her ass. I’m so focused on my own lust-filled thoughts that I flinch when I see a tan finger begin tracing the delicate edges of the garter. The tick in my jaw is instantaneous, the grip on my beer nearly enough to shatter the amber bottle.