Sonny and I walk onto the gym floor after being in the weight room for the last three hours. My legs feel like jelly, my arms like lead, but I love it. It feels like winning, like accomplishment. Still not sure if they’ll even let me fight, but I’ll be ready regardless. We head toward the mats for a little cool down when I see Reggie and Frankie standing with my pop and two suits. Frankie’s arms are crossed over her chest, her posture rigid. She’s pissed. I’m about to walk over when I catch a glimpse of the men they’re talking to. Fucking hell, I’m a dead man. It’s the marshals and I’d bet money that they just told Frankie that Drew wasn’t the one to attack her. Certain it’s true when I make eye contact with Pop and he shakes his head at me as if to say, “I told you this was a shit idea.” I knew it and I’d planned on telling her. I can’t even remember why I didn’t want her to know. Jesus fuck, would I ever not fuck up with her?
My dad waves me over. There are a million other places I would rather be right now. “Who are the guys with Pop?” Sonny asks as he follows me over to where they all stand waiting for me.
“That would be asshole one and asshole two, better known as the marshals I knuckled up at Indie’s place,” I admit to him flatly.
“Wait, what? I thought you just roughed Drew up. What were marshals doing there?” Hand on my arm he stops us, waiting for an answer. I just look him in the eyes and wait for it to sink in. Jameson is smart; it doesn’t take long. “Holy shit, he was in protective custody.” Eyes narrowed, “Did you know and not tell anyone?”
Dragging my hands through my loose hair, I scrape it into a bun. “I didn’t find out until after I beat the shit out of everyone.”
“And you didn’t tell us why?” he demands
“Fuck, Sonny, I don’t know. I had a lot of shit going on? I was worried she’d go back to him? Afraid I might have killed his ass? Take your pick.” His mouth is hanging open in astonishment, making me want to hit him. “Not my smartest move, but it’s done now, so you can lock your shit up, I don’t need it.”
“Oh, you’re not gonna get it from me. Did you see the Princess?” He jerks his chin in her direction. “She’s gonna hand you your fucking ass.” Shaking his head, he stalks off toward them, leaving me to follow after him.
“Mr. Love, just the man we want to see,” suit number one booms.
When I don’t answer him, my pop speaks up, “Deacon, this is Deputy Baird and his partner, Deputy Riley. They need to speak to you.” I look over at Frankie, she’s glaring daggers straight through me.
“Princess, I—”
She raises her hand to shut me up. “I don’t even want to hear it.” Turning to the deputies, “When you’re finished speaking to him, is there any way that I can see Andrew? Is it safe?”
“You’re shitting me, right? You’re gonna go and see him?” I huff, “This is the fucking reason I didn’t tell you.” Turning away from her and her anger, “Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter, disgusted with the whole situation.
“Deacon, that’s enough,” Pop warns.
“Are you guys arresting me? Because if not, I don’t have shit to say without my lawyers present.” Stubbornly I meet their gaze. They’ve fucked my day enough; I’m not going to make this easy on them.
“We just wanted to go over Mr. McAvoy’s condition and ask you a couple questions,” Deputy Riley tells me. He doesn’t like me, but he doesn’t hate me as much as his partner. That much is obvious.
“Are you charging me with something? Did Andrew decide to press charges?” His name tastes like shit leaving my mouth.
“No, he’s decided not to, as have we, considering the circumstances.”
I nod begrudgingly. They could have really screwed me. I should be grateful, but all I can think about is Frankie going to see Drew. “What do you need with me then?” If they aren’t charging me, what the hell do they want? “Any questions you have will have to go through my lawyers,” I inform them again.
“We just wanted to let you know that Mr. McAvoy wasn’t pressing charges, and we’ll get in contact with the lawyers for the rest.” He turns to Frankie, “And to offer Miss De Rosa the option of being under our protection.” He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to her. “You really should consider it. These men don’t want to go to prison and they don’t care what it takes to stay out. Unfortunately you know that all too well,” he says sympathetically and I snap.
“Yeah, she does know too well because your boy, Drew, is a fucking pussy and left her to fend for herself while he saved his own ass. You tell him I said he’s a coward and he’s lucky that she survived.” My chest heaves in anger. I feel my brother and Pop come up beside me.
“Deacon, he wasn’t the one who—” The fuck? Whirling around, I cut Frankie off.
“Don’t you fucking dare defend him. He left you, alone and vulnerable in a house he didn’t feel was safe for his ass to be in,” I roar. When she flinches and Sonny moves to stand between us, I realize it’s time for me to get the fuck out. I can’t do this with her right now. My brother places a hand to my chest and pushes me back a step, but I swat it away. “He may have not have been the one to put hands on you that day, Frankie, but he is the reason you were lying in that hospital bed, fighting for your life. Never forget that shit; God knows I never will. Maybe we should ask the cops for the pictures they took of you, every cut and scrape, busted up face and body. Would that convince you that all of this is his fucking fault?” Hands trembling in rage, I ignore the tears streaming down her face. “I sat there with you, wishing and praying to a God I’m not sure even fucking exists to not take you from me, so don’t you ever defend him to me again.”
Sonny blocks her from my view. “Why don’t you go hit the shower? We can deal with all of this later, all right?” He’s not really asking, but he doesn’t have to; I’m aware I need to go get my mind right. I hate myself for yelling at her like that; it wasn’t right to treat her that way, but fuck me, was she serious?
In the locker room, my hair damp and loose, towel slung low on my hips, I stand in front of the vending machine staring vacantly when I hear the door creak open. “Deacon, are you alone?’ Frankie calls out, her voice extra raspy, extra fucking sexy. I’m pissed at her and still she affects me.
“I’m alone. I don’t want to do this right now though, Frankie. Have one of the guys take you home,” I bite out, never turning to look at her.
“I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to come in here and apologize to you.” That catches my attention. Slowly I face her, eyebrows raised.
“You were right—I should never have defended him. He doesn’t deserve it, not for a second. Andrew left me there to my own devices, just like you said. I still want to go and talk to him though. Ask him why, get some closure.” Hands tucked into the pocket of her ‘Frankie’s Place’ hoodie, she shrugs. “I’m confused, and pissed that you didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know that you were possibly facing charges still.” The confusion in her voice is evident. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of it, Deacon? Honestly, I’m trying to not be angry, but you make it so hard sometimes.”
Can’t deny that. Right now though, the only thing that I can focus on is the fact that she said she’s still going to see him.
“Princess,” I start as I walk over to the bench that runs down the center of the room, straddling it, the anger I feel being replaced by exasperation, a little bit of desperation even. “I was afraid,” I admit quietly. I feel like a pussy even acknowledging it, but it’s the truth.
Eyebrows creased in confusion, “Afraid of what, Deac?”
“Of you going back to him mostly.” Meeting her gaze, I shrug.
“You didn’t tell me that he wasn’t the one that attacked me, you let me think these last few days that I was finally safe, because you were scared I’d take him back?” When she says it like that, it sounds like a dick move on my part. I don’t bother answering. “I was leaving him that night, for you. Why would I take him back?” That’s the first time she’s said that to me and I’d never been sure.
“Never knew why you were leaving; I had hoped, but you never said.”
Head down, staring at her feet, she shakes her head. “How could you not have known?” I can barely hear her she’s so quiet. When she looks at me again, I’m not sure what she’s feeling. There’s a myriad of emotions flashing in her eyes, across her face. “Did you not know how much I loved you, still love you?” I nod that I did. Because I did. No matter if we were together or not, I knew she loved me, even if she pushed me away.
“Then how could you think so little of me, of my feelings?” Tears in her eyes again, she blows out a breath. “Clearly our need to take it slow is very real.”
At this moment, I agree with her. I never thought that the day would come where I needed to be away from Frankie in order to clear my head, get my shit straight, but it has, and I do. “I think you’re right,” I say resolutely, meeting her gaze. “It’s pretty obvious that our communication is shit. You’re pissed at me for keeping things from you when for months you were doing the same thing.” My eyes roam her face, touching on the tears I can see hovering on her lashes and the sadness pulling at her mouth. “We’re either in this all the way or not at all, and right now, I feel like we’re in different corners, fighting each other, and I need a minute.”
“So, what does that even mean, Deacon?”
Hands clenched in the towel hanging around my neck, I blow out an agitated breath. “It means . . . fuck, I don’t know what it means. I guess it means I need a fucking break,” I bite out more harshly than I intended.
She blinks slowly, digesting what I just said, and in a daze, walks out of the locker room all kinds of upset and beat down. I can’t even go after her, although part of me wants to. A greater part . . . doesn’t.
“Fuck.”