Sarah
Being in Brookside hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it. I’ve swallowed a lot of pride and asked forgiveness for the many, many things I’ve said and done over the years. Old wounds that have never fully healed keep getting torn open and it feels like all I do is bleed.
But I’m not alone.
My family has made apologies and admissions of their own and the more we’ve had a chance to see the problem from all sides, the easier it is to make amends. I end each day raw and exhausted, but I think we’re healing.
All of us.
As Dad gets stronger, I manage to explain how much it hurt when he told me Colton’s girlfriend was more a part of the family than I was.
I explain what I saw at David’s wedding, the obvious love he had for my brother’s new wife, the love I wanted for myself. I tell them I couldn’t bring myself to see my father look at Tessa that way, and that’s why I missed Colton’s wedding.
I try to talk about the baby. The tiny little baby I was too young to have, but couldn’t imagine getting rid of and then lost anyway. Years of hurt and rage and sorrow choke me and my father flinches under the weight of it all, but damn if he doesn’t listen.
I apologize to Tessa. I apologize to David. I apologize to Colton. I apologize to my parents.
And they apologize to me.
I finish the days worn, but better.
Weary, but strong.
Would I have gotten here if it wasn’t for Frank? Would I have had the strength to be this honest with my family? I don’t even have to think about the answer. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t met him, I’d be sitting by myself, half-drunk and fully medicated, mourning a life I ran away from, blaming everyone but myself. I’ve spent today sending gratitude Frank’s way, waiting for a quiet moment so I can call him and tell him just how glad I am for his influence.
The moment Colton pulls to a stop in the driveway, I bound out of his truck, phone already in hand. My brother and his wife step past me on the way into their newly finished house, where I’ve been staying in a guest room that still smells of paint and sawdust. I lift a hand as I perch on the top step of the porch and press the phone to my ear.
Normally, Frank picks up immediately. Tonight, he misses both the first and second ring.
“Hey.” His voice is heavy when he finally answers, but I smile anyway.
“God, it’s so good to hear your voice.” I run my fingers over the porch step, feeling the grain of the wood bump against my skin. Some evenings, I’m so tired of sharing that Frank does all the talking. Others, like tonight, I can’t wait to tell him all the things my family and I worked through.
“Likewise.” The one-word answer is out of character, but his voice is so bland, he must be tired. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s good. Improving daily. Looks like they’re going to send him home soon and don’t expect he’ll have many lingering issues.” I tell him about today’s conversations, about the apologies. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And it’s all because of you.” I tell him everything I’ve been thinking, beaming as I express my gratitude to the one person in the world who stopped long enough to see me and call me on my bullshit.
There’s a long pause before he replies and when he does, everything still seems wrong. “Good,” he finally says. “I’m glad.”
These short, cold answers aren’t like him and worry settles onto my back, clutches at my shoulders, and starts whispering in my ear. “Hey,” I say, drawing my brows together. “Are you okay?”
He laughs and it’s so out of character, so harsh and bitter, that I sit up straight. “No, Sarah, I’m not okay.”
His voice is thick.
Slurred.
Like he’s trying to speak through cotton.
Like he’s drunk.
“What happened?” I ask, immediately on edge.
“I got fired. That’s what happened. Bree told Brian Kent that you left because of me, because I broke your heart, and they believed her. They weren’t even a little interested in hearing my side of things. She won. That crazy bitch finally won.”
“Oh, Frank. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he replies though I can tell he’s nowhere close to fine.
I stand and stare out over my family’s farm, looking for something, anything I can say to fix things. The solution hits me so quickly that I laugh. “That’s so easy to solve, Frank. I can call Mr. Kent first thing in the morning and tell him that me coming home had nothing to do with you. I’ll explain Dad’s stroke and—”
Frank snorts. “There’s nothing you can tell him that’s going to matter much, Sweetheart.” He’s never used that nickname with me before and I don’t like the way he says it. “You’ll never guess what I found out. Did you know there are security cameras in the elevators?”
His words rock me and I cover my mouth. I remember his hands on my body. The sounds I made when he thrust into me. The feral look in his eyes. The thought of that moment being captured by cameras twists in my stomach. Who has seen that video? How many people stole that moment from us? Voyeurs, all of them, leering at the screen as Frank and I lost ourselves to each other.
“Yeah. Neither did I.” He laughs again. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say that’ll make them want me back. I’d be surprised if you still have a job there.” His words are slurred and slow and I swear I hear the faint sound of ice hitting glass. Apprehension settles over me. A desire to run, run, run back to Denver.
Hurry, Sarah. Hurry, says a quiet voice in my head.
Video footage or not, I refuse to give up on this. Frank is too good a man to lose his job because of me. “Well, I’ll still talk to them. You don’t deserve to be fired.”
“Whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better.” The sarcasm in his voice is anything but jovial. It’s hard and sharp and it hurts.
Hurry, Sarah. Hurry.
I’ve never seen this side of him before. Never seen a part of Frank that was anything but kind. Right now, he’s cold and angry. Usually, I feel like the best part of his day. Tonight, I feel like something else he has to deal with before he can get on with whatever he was doing before I called.
“I’m so sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. You’ve said that.”
Fear tightens its grip on me as I listen for any background noise. Music. Conversation. Something to tell me he’s at a bar. I don’t hear a damn thing and I don’t know if that makes me feel better…or worse.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At home.” He chuckles to himself. “Just me and my friend Jameson.”
My stomach drops to my feet. “Frank? Are you drinking?”
“Yup. Started this afternoon at Derby’s right after Brian-fucking-Kent sent me packing. Still going strong at whatever time it is now.”
If he’s at home and he’s drinking, that means he stopped and bought alcohol. I could understand breaking his one-drink limit at the bar on a day like this. Maybe. Kind of. It’s not ideal, but it’s understandable. But buying a bottle of whiskey and bringing it home? That’s an entirely different kind of problem.
“I’ll be back in a couple days,” I say, looking for anything to say to make him smile. “My flight’s on Friday.”
“Are you still coming back?”
“Of course I’m coming back. Why wouldn’t I?” My internal alarm system is going crazy. A steady thrum of something’s wrong keeping pace with the beating of my heart.
Hurry, Sarah. Hurry.
“Just didn’t think you’d make an appearance. Sounds like things are going great for you. You have your family back. Why come back to me? I don’t have anything to offer you now that I don’t have a job.”
I scowl. “Is that why you think I like being with you? Because of your job?”
“My money, more specifically. I paid for your car. Your flight. Was gonna get you an apartment. Now I don’t even know if I’ll get to keep my own apartment. You know how it goes. Savings will only get you so far.” He snorts and then I hear the telltale sounds of him taking a drink.
“Frank. Listen to me. I don’t care how much money you have. I like being around you because of who you are and how you make me feel.” My words are laced with desperation, my stomach a cyclone of distress.
I’m losing him.
He’s slipping through my fingers.
He was there when I needed him, but now that he needs me, I’m on the other side of the country.
Frank makes a sound, deep in his throat. “You say that now…”
“And I’ll say it tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. You stood by me when I had nothing. When no one else would. When I ran from anyone who tried. Well, now it’s time for me to stand by you.”
There’s a stretch of silence long enough to make me think he hung up. I pull my phone from my ear and glance at the screen. He’s still there, though I’m not sure for how much longer.
I imagine him sitting alone in his apartment. Angry. Lost. Drunk. I wish I could be with him right now. I don’t want to wait until Friday. I need to be in Denver. Now.
When Frank finally responds, cynicism laces his words. “I thought no one could count on you to stick around.”
“Yeah. So did everyone else.”
“So why are you sticking around?”
“Because you’re worth it.” I start pacing, working on a plan, a list of ways to keep him distracted until I can get back to Denver and intervene. “Now do me a favor and get rid of that whiskey. I need you to be sober when you pick me up from the airport on Friday. I promise you, we’ll figure out a way to get through this.”
Though honestly, I don’t know how I’m supposed to help him. I’ve never been the one to hold someone else up and I suspect Frank’s not usually the one to fall. I end the call and race inside, desperate to figure out what to do next.
Tessa and Colton look up when I burst into the living room, twin looks of surprise on their faces. I explain what happened and Colton frowns.
“Don’t you think it’s a bad sign that this guy hits one little bump in the road and falls off the wagon?”
“You don’t know Frank,” I say.
“And you do? After two whole months?”
“Yes.” I place as much emphasis on the word as I can and then explain all the reasons I’m falling in love with Frank. His kindness. His intelligence. His humor. His willingness to stand by me when anyone else would have walked away.
Colton shakes his head. “But how do you know any of that is who he really is? It’s easy to be amazing when you have everything going for you. Maybe you’re about to meet the real him.”
My heart rejects the thought outright. “Frank is a good man.”
“Maybe he is. But it also sounds like he’s an alcoholic who’s still in denial.”
“He’s not in denial.” I begin to explain his one-drink limit but stop. Even I can hear how silly it all sounds. If Frank had everything under control, then he wouldn’t be drunk right now.
A battle begins between my heart and my mind as I digest the conversation.
“What are you going to do?” Tessa asks, her hand on mine.
“My flight’s in two days. I’m going back to Denver and I’m going to support him through this.”
Colton rolls his eyes. “Are you sure that’s the best decision?”
“I’m only here because of Frank. If it weren’t for all the good advice he had for me, I’d be hiding in Denver, nursing my wounds so hard I tore them open again. Whatever he’s going through, I owe it to him to be there.”