14
Frankie
“You okay, kiddo?” Mom asks as we again sit in the chairs on her back patio. I try to come and visit once a week, or at least biweekly if things are crazy for me. It’s funny how alike Jackson and I are when I think about it—how much our families mean to us. I think that’s why I gave him shit after the divorce and before he fell for Derek. There had always been a part of me who understood him on a bone-deep level. I knew that need to take care of your own, but unlike Jackson, I’d always managed to find a way to take care of myself too. It had always been important to me to enjoy life, to grab it by the fucking balls, because I always knew how much Mom had been denied that by my sperm donor.
She’d been smart as hell, had wanted to be a nurse, but had dropped out of college. She’d loved flowers, but he had denied her working. She’d walked away from her friends for him. He’d moved her from California to Georgia where she was away from her close-knit, Mexican-American family to isolate her until she had nothing except me and him. Once he got locked up, that had always been her biggest wish for me—to do what I wanted, to have fun, to never let fear hold me back, and if there’s one thing I can say for myself it’s that I’ve always tried to do that.
For the most part.…It’s not that I’m not afraid of shit. I am. More so than most people probably know, but I try my damnedest not to let it hold me back, the way she does. Even when he had been released from prison, she hadn’t been afraid anymore and it had made it easier for me not to be afraid either—though I still hated him in ways she didn’t.
“Hello? Earth to Frankie.” Mom waves her hand in front of my face and I chuckle.
“Sorry. Spacing off.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
She grins, and I roll my eyes at her. “Funny lady. Anyway, yeah, I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“As you always do around this time of year.”
Well, yeah, there’s that too. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“You never do and that’s fine but…” Mom scoots her chair over beside mine and drops her head to my shoulder. “You still carry too much weight for your father’s actions on your shoulders. You were a child.”
“He’s not my father.”
“Not in the ways that matter, no, but that doesn’t change what I’m saying. You always struggle around the anniversary of—”
“The day he beat you unconscious, and I hid in the closet?” I finish for her.
“Don’t say it like that. Again, you were a child and yes, you hid…but you should have. And you also called 911 and saved my life. That’s the part you always seem to forget. You. Saved. My. Life. That’s what you did. You were a child. I was supposed to protect you, and I didn’t. You saved my life, and you will never be your father.”
I flinch at the last part, her words like a knife digging into me. It’s a fear I’ve never voiced aloud, not to anyone, yet I’m not surprised Mom senses it.
“The fact that you worry about it proves it. The fact that you’ve never so much as raised a hand in anger to anyone proves it. You hardly even raise your voice to anyone. You’re a caretaker, you protect people, and I know you’re afraid that his blood flows through your veins, but you don’t need to be. It’s impossible. Not you.”
“Thanks, Ma.” I kiss the top of her head. It’s so strange, the irrational fears people can have. Or maybe this is a rational one; I don’t know. There is nothing or no one I hate in this world the way I hate the sperm donor. I’ve never hurt anyone. I couldn’t live with myself if I did, but that doesn’t change the fact that his blood flows through me, that when I look into the mirror, my eyes match his. “I’m being weird. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that Evan is in my head all the time, in such a different way than he had been before. Our puppy training sessions have become the highlights of my day. I think about things I want to try with him and hear his soft whimper in my head. Smile when I think of the playful growl and get filled with pride at his growing comfort.
It’s like we’re taking this journey with each other that we never anticipated taking, like we’re learning things about ourselves along the way, and I can’t wait to experience every fucking second of it.
My mind feels like a sort of confusing place right now, though. I’m thinking about the sperm donor, which as Mom says, I often do around this time of year, but it’s twisted up in the excitement of what’s going on with Evan, and yeah, the hot-as-fucking-hell kiss we shared. Usually if I want someone, I go for it. We hook up or whatever and then go on our way. I’ve never shared the kind of kiss I did with Evan with someone I’m so close to. But on the other hand, it was just a kiss, and it’s Evan, so I can’t figure out why my thoughts are so twisted up in it.
“Well…you are a little strange. Always have been,” Mom teases, which pulls me out of my head.
“I get it from you.”
She sits up, her brows pulling together. “Well, of course,” she replies as if there’s no other option here. We laugh and visit a little while longer before I head back to Midtown. I’m meeting Donovan for dinner since our night got cut short last time.
We meet at a sports bar down the block from Flirt. We order beers, burgers, and fries as we sit in a booth tucked into one of the corners.
“Who was the kid the other night?” Donovan asks. He doesn’t really know the crew I hang with now since I didn’t spend time with them when he lived here before. Donovan’s been known to be a bit of a wanderer, not settling in one spot for too long, but he always ends up back in Atlanta.
“Evan. I live with him at Metropolis.” The words don’t sound deep enough for what Evan and I are. “He’s a friend…a good one.”
Donovan nods and pops a fry into his mouth. “He’s fucking beautiful.”
I nod because he’s right. It’s the first thing I noticed about Evan when I saw him, but I also know he’s so much more than that. “Yeah, he is. He’s a good guy too. Sweet.”
“Is that your way of trying to warn me off him?” Donovan asks with a chuckle, and my stomach tenses up briefly.
“No.” I hadn’t even thought of that but now I sort of am—thinking about it, I mean. I don’t know why, though. “He’s not your type.”
“What? I like sweet. I can do sweet. I’m incredibly fucking sweet.”
“You’re sweet as fucking sugar, but Evan still isn’t your type.”
“I’m giving you shit. I know protective Frankie when I see him.”
“How long are you back in town for?” I ask, purposely trying to get off the subject of Evan but unsure why. My thoughts are still sort of all over the place, thinking about him and the conversation I had with Mom earlier too.
“For good. Why do you say it like that?”
“Because you’re obviously looking for something you can’t seem to find,” I reply and his forehead wrinkles. Jackpot.
“Perceptive-ass Frankie.” He takes a swallow of his beer and then his brows lift. He sets the glass down and smiles, making me turn around to see who he’s looking at.
“Oh fuck,” sort of slips out of my mouth. “They’re brothers, aren’t they?”
“Looks like it to me.”
One of the dark-haired guys winks at us while the other looks away bashfully.
“I call dibs on the shy one,” Donovan says, making me laugh. My dick perks up a little because I haven’t seen any action other than my own hand in weeks. Just haven’t felt like it much lately. Not with all the puppy training and everything.
“You can have them both. Not really feelin’ it tonight.”
“You’re not feeling them?” he asks, doubt in his voice.
“Oh, no. I have eyes in my head. I see how fucking hot they are. I just…” What the fuck is wrong with me? There’s no reason not to be interested in them, even if it’s just to have a drink with a chat. But I just… “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m just not interested.”
“Well, I can tell you what’s not up then.”
I pick up a french fry and throw it at Donovan who laughs. “Why don’t you go?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. It’s nice to see you again. We didn’t get to catch up much the other night.”
It doesn’t surprise me that he said that. We’ve always been pretty close.
We hang out for another hour or so before I glance at my cell and realize Evan’s been home from work for over an hour. We didn’t talk specifically about puppy play tonight but we’ve been doing it daily, at least for a little while the past few days. “I’m gonna order some food for Evan and then get going.”
“Okay, sounds good. Hit me up if you go out anytime soon. I’m down to hang.”
I nod. It would be fun. I think Donovan would get along well with Evan and the guys. He stays with me as I wait for Evan’s fish and chips to be ready. I pay and then we say our good-byes outside before I make the short walk to Metropolis.
My body sags against the elevator as I head upstairs. It feels good to be heading back home. Mom was right—I’m in a strange sort of funk right now. Nothing major but it comes and goes. I hate that even after all these years, the sperm donor affects me so much, especially around this time.
The second I get into our unit and close the door behind me, Evan comes bounding around the corner, all geared up in his collar, hood, and gloves. Just before he reaches me, I manage to set his food on the counter.
“Someone’s happy to see me. Such a good pup.” I kneel, petting him behind his ears, and on his neck. Pup Runt’s front paws land on my chest, pushing me to my back as he wiggles on top of me, nosing my neck and face.
Laughter pours out of me, loud and fucking genuine. “That’s a good boy. Such a good boy, so happy to see your person, aren’t you?”
As he shakes his ass and licks my face, I realize this is exactly what I’ve needed all day.