— AUSTIN —
7. RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT
SEVEN YEARS AGO — SUMMER 2010
BEFORE JUNIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
Frankie was sitting on the back porch staring out at the trees as if she could see the sunset that was just on the other side. She’d mentioned once that she’d never seen a good sunset thanks to “all the damn trees blocking the fucking view,” but that didn’t stop her from watching and imagining what it might look like.
Nana Ruth liked to say that the trees were a lucky thing. That whatever Frankie could conjure up in her clever little mind was probably even better than the real thing. Nana Ruth also argued that if Frankie never saw the sun set, at least she’d never be disappointed.
But tonight, Frankie was disappointed. Not by the sunset, but by life. She’d let herself hope and once again her hope had been crushed by her father. A few hours ago, his appeal had been denied, and he’d been led handcuffed and unapologetic back to his cell.
Despite the blanket of purple and orange creeping over the sky and the promise of another sunset on the other side of the trees, even Frankie couldn’t imagine a beautiful ending to the day. Her mother had passed away a few months ago, and when she really needed a father to comfort her and let her know everything was going to be all right, Jimmy DiGorgio Sr. had let his daughter down again.
She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without suffering through the stares and hearing the whispers about her low life father. No matter how hard she might want to deny the truth, the kids at school—hell, the entire town—wouldn’t be likely to let her forget.
All I wanted to do was make her forget.
I tucked the box under my arm, and even though I knew she heard me coming, she kept her eyes on the trees. Sliding the box onto the step next to her, I sat down so that it was between us. She didn’t even spare a glance, and I said nothing. The one important thing I’d learned about Frankie was that there was no such thing as forcing her to do something she didn’t want to. And it was obvious that I was going to have to wait until she was ready to talk.
We sat in silence for a few moments, watching as the darkness swallowed the sky so slowly that the trees seemed to melt into it. Soon fireflies were dancing across the grass, crickets were singing off in the distance, and I heard her sigh.
“I shouldn’t have hoped,” she finally said.
I leaned forward and set my arms on my knees then turned to look over my shoulder at her. I could just barely see her profile in the dark.
“No,” I corrected her. “You should never give up hope. Hope is…hope is like a light and having it is the only way to find your way in the dark. When you have hope, everything else is just a shadow behind you.”
Against her will, the corner of her mouth tugged up into an almost smile. “Who are you quoting this time? Confucius?”
I shook my head, grinning to myself.
Frankie liked to tell me that I was a ninety-year-old man in a sixteen-year-old boy’s body. According to her, the way I thought and the things I said weren’t like most guys my age. If only she knew the way my thoughts went haywire when she hugged me, all the things I’d daydreamed about when she wore her tight tank tops and tiny shorts, she’d know I was just like every other horny bastard we went to school with.
But she wasn’t wrong. The cello lessons, the membership at the country club, the constant badgering from my mother on my actions and appearance. My mother wouldn’t be happy until she’d nagged upper crust society behavior into me, and sometimes I forgot how a teenager was supposed to act. The good thing was that I always had Frankie to bring me back down to earth.
“He’s never going to change,” she whispered. Her eyes glittered in the dark. “I’ll never be able to depend on him to do the right thing. He’s my dad, and I can’t count on him. How sad is that?” She shook her head in disgust. “He can’t even stay out of jail let alone take care of us. What’s the point of even hoping he can change when I know he’s just going to let us down? What’s the point in loving him when he’s a loser?” She was holding a stick in her hand, viciously breaking off small pieces and angrily tossing them onto the dark lawn.
The one thing I’d always admired about Frankie was her ability to get back up after a fall. Whether it was after a crash on her dirt bike or after the shame of public humiliation, she always got back up. The idea that her father could destroy that part of her and turn her into a melancholy, pessimistic girl pissed me off. I had never known Frankie not to fight back, but the look in her eyes told me she was considering giving up this time. And if that happened, Jared Bennett and his friends would have a field day with her. They’d smell the blood in the water and come in for the kill. I couldn’t stand the idea of Frankie giving up on anything, even if it was her worthless dad.
The thought occurred to me that for the first time, maybe she needed me to help her get back up. Maybe, for once, she’d let me be strong for her.
“You can always count on me,” I offered, reaching for her hand. She let me take it, and I twisted her fingers between mine. It was such a normal thing for us to do. Friendship came so easily. It was the rest of my feelings for her I didn’t know how to deal with.
She laughed a little, forcing nonchalance. “I can always count on you to be deep. That whole hope and light and darkness thing? Those were some pretty words, Beethoven.” Frankie squeezed my hand to let me know she liked what I said even though she was teasing me.
“You know what else you can always count on me to do?” I rubbed the pad of my thumb along the side of hers, causing her fingers to tighten in my grip.
She turned to face me and raised her eyebrows. “Help me nick a bottle of liquor from Tommy’s stash?” she suggested. “I could totally go for some oblivion right about now.”
I chuckled. “Well, yeah. That too.” I let go of her hand and reached between us to pull the box into my lap. When her eyes dropped to see the pink and orange logo, I could see genuine interest. “But you can always count on me to cheer you up, too.”
I flipped open the lid to reveal row after row of chocolate frosted, cream-filled donuts.
She groaned. “Oh my God. Those are my favorite.”
I knew that. Of course I did. I knew everything about Frankie.
I picked one up and held it out in offering. “DONUT worry. Be happy,” I said in the worst rasta-voice I could muster.
A sharp sound of laughter escaped her and Frankie took the donut from me, shaking her head. “You are such a nerd, Austin.” She turned to look at me, and her eyes were wide and serious. “I DONUT know what I’d do without you.” She kept a straight face for all of two seconds before cackling madly. When she took a bite of the treat, however, the laughter turned into a moan, her eyes fluttering closed as chocolate icing coated her lips.
That small sound she made twisted my already indecent crush into festering need. I wanted to lean over and lick the remnants of frosting off her mouth, and I wondered briefly if she would moan the same way if I kissed her, or if it was only donuts that induced that kind of pleasure.
I immediately felt guilty and shoved the thought away. I was such an asshole. She just saw her father sent off to jail for months—probably years—and all I could think about was ramming my tongue down her throat. I was such a fucking prick. Frankie trusted me and I couldn’t allow myself to betray that trust.
I was willing to take a lot of risks with her, but the one thing I wasn’t willing to risk was her friendship. And right now, she needed a friend. She needed to laugh. She needed me to be the Austin she could lean on. I would never take advantage of that.
I grabbed a donut and Frankie glared at me even though there were ten more left in the box.
“I didn’t know I had to share,” she grumbled.
I ripped off a huge bite like a savage animal, and her glare turned into a grin. “Have a little heart. I had to eat tuna pot pie for dinner,” I said around the food in my mouth. “And let me tell you, that shit would make a billy goat puke.”
Frankie’s lip curled in disgust. “Your mom shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen,” she agreed. “I think even Pauly could cook better than her and he manages to burn water.”
I set the box between us, and we continued to eat donuts as fireflies glowed nearby, and the sounds of summer filled the dark around us. I figured Frankie was probably lost in thoughts about her dad and the gossip his situation would cause. Luckily, school was out for the summer, but it was impossible to avoid the rumors. At some point, she would have to deal with the fallout, and I was sure Frankie was already preparing to put on her trusty emotional armor.
But for tonight, she was still vulnerable. She was still mine to take care of for as long as she let me. If she was thinking about the mess with her dad, I wanted to do my best to make her forget.
“I think I’m full.” Frankie dropped her half-eaten pastry into the box. “I didn’t know it was possible to get full of donuts. I always thought you just got tired of eating.”
“Good. More for me.” I picked up her discarded food, and she watched incredulously as I licked the remaining icing out of the middle. I’d done it to get a reaction out of her—make her laugh or scold me—anything to help her forget her about her dad.
“Austin?” The word wasn’t said laughing or scolding. It was hungry. Provocative.
I paused, the remaining bite halfway to my mouth and my eyebrows furrowed, wondering what unsaid words were behind those two syllables. “Yeah?”
Before I knew what hit me, Frankie had wrapped her hand around my neck, pulled me down, and planted her mouth on mine. Her lips were demanding. Controlling. Hot. All Frankie. She was sucking the frosting off my lower lip, and then her tongue was in my mouth, shattering my thoughts into shock.
When I hesitated, Frankie’s hands went to my hair, tangling in it to roughly pull me closer. She was pressed against me, and I groaned, my body and mind battling over what was the bigger betrayal—to kiss her back or to not kiss her at all. Both seemed like dangerous decisions.
Frankie seemed to have no such inner turmoil. Her lips pressed against mine urgently, and when my tongue finally moved to slide along hers, she groaned into the kiss and gripped my hair even tighter. That sound broke the tenuous hold I had on my control. I wrapped my arm around her waist and dragged her into my lap so that she was straddling me. She tasted of sugar and summer and bad decisions. And I wanted it all.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked against her mouth, hating the words even as I said them. My hands didn’t seem to get the memo, however, because I couldn’t stop touching her. My fingers slid under her tank top and across warm skin. One palm was pressed against her back, and the other traveled up the firmness of her belly leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
When my fingertips skimmed the underside of her breast, Frankie arched into me, her body undulating like a charmed snake. “We should stop,” I muttered.
Frankie leaned back to look at me. Her lips were stained pink and wet from kissing. “You don’t want to?” The uncertainty in her expression was so unlike her that I despised myself for putting doubt in her mind. For making her question the way I felt about her.
I gripped her hips and pulled her gently against me so that she could feel how hard I was. “Does this feel like I don’t want to?” My voice was deep and greedy.
“Good. I want it too,” she said quietly. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
She’d always wanted me?
My brain might have been stumbling over her words, but my body wasn’t going to wait for it to catch up, and neither was Frankie’s. Her hips rocked slowly over me while her fingers wrapped around my neck to pull me closer, drawing my mouth to the dip at the bottom of her throat. I kissed the curve of her neck, her delicate collarbone, and the swell along the deep neckline of her shirt. Her skin was salty from being outside in the heat, but she smelled like strawberries and summer, and I was starving for her. I’d been starving for her for a long time.
I licked and sucked and kissed the skin along the neckline of her shirt, and she dropped her mouth to my ear, her breaths becoming heavy. Our bodies moved together like one of the slow sensual pieces I played on the cello, her hips rising and falling to the tempo of mine. My heartbeat was slow and sure at first, but soon her small gasps caused my heart to stutter as it raced to keep up with the need that was rushing through me. We still hadn’t taken any clothes off, but it didn’t seem to matter.
My fingers worked along her body, exploring, playing and composing as I whispered promises across her skin— I want you…trust me…you feel amazing…you’re beautiful. I loved how my touch and my words moved her. Frankie’s soft whispers, hushed moans, and quiet pleading was its own sort of music, and I wanted to get lost in it. I wanted to be lost in her.
We kissed for a long time, hands and mouths exploring familiar curves and planes with new appreciation. Her hips rolled, and I couldn’t resist pushing up into her. It was as if my body wanted to devour her. Claim her.
A soft breeze kicked up, rustling the leaves in the dark woods, cooling our sweat-soaked skin and ringing Nana’s wind chimes. Frankie’s hands slid between us, her fingers fumbling with the button of my jeans and I reached down to help her, my mouth finding hers again.
We came to our senses abruptly when we heard the sound of tires on gravel. Frankie went still as she stared wide-eyed at me for a second. And then she was hurrying out of my lap to sit next to me, her hands fidgeting with her clothes to put everything back in place. She was still breathing hard, and despite the slight chill in the breeze, her skin was flushed from our kissing and groping, shiny with a sheen of sweat. After I got my clothes back in order, I swept my hand back through my hair, struggling to decide whether I was feeling regret at what we’d done or annoyance at being interrupted.
We didn’t speak as the voices of her brothers echoed through the darkness, oblivious to what had been going on between their little sister and the boy next door. If most of the blood in my body hadn’t been gathered in the vicinity of my lap, I might have had the good sense to be worried about getting my ass kicked by Frankie’s three older brothers. They surely wouldn’t find it funny that I’d been groping Frankie in the dark.
As if sensing my thoughts, Frankie grabbed my hand again, and I could feel the pulse along her wrist beating as wildly as mine. I wished I could see her face better, to figure out what she was thinking.
We heard the sound of Jimmy, Tommy, and Pauly making their way into the kitchen, their boisterous voices breaking the spell we’d been under.
“Maybe I do have a little hope,” Frankie said, her voice quiet but determined. She gazed out at the tree line where the sunset was long gone. “At least it doesn’t seem so dark out anymore.”
I turned my head to see that she was looking at me. “Is that your way of saying I’m the light of your life?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed huff of breath, but she didn’t let go of my hand.
Finally, Frankie said, “Whatever you are, DONUT go breaking my heart, Stone.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
She sighed and then in a whisper it sounded like she said, “That’s why I love you.”
***
I slouched in the chair, my memories clawing into my heart even worse than the handcuffs were digging into my wrists. Maybe I should have given Frankie the same warning she gave me, because in the end, she was the one who’d done the breaking.
From the corner of my sight, I could see where she was handcuffed at another desk nearby. Apparently, the holding cells were full, and despite the fact that Frankie and I had been arrested for fighting, the officers didn’t seem to think we were dangerous enough to be stuffed in the holding cells with the rest of the miscreants.
Or maybe they’d heard the same rumors about Jared that we had and thought he’d gotten what he deserved.
Unfortunately, Jared wasn’t stuffed into one of the holding cells. He wasn’t even at the police station. He’d been taken to the hospital, along with an officer to watch over him, because he needed stitches from where Frankie had hit him in the head with the bottle. The paramedics who showed up said he also had at least two broken ribs and a busted nose thanks to yours truly.
I clenched my fist and then released it, wishing Huck and Drew hadn’t pulled me off of the dipshit so quickly. I hadn’t done nearly as much damage as I’d wanted to. The pain that shot through my right hand when I moved it was a good sign that playing my cello would be a painful endeavor for a while. But it had been worth it.
Honestly, not being able to play was probably for the best anyway. With Frankie invading my thoughts, dreams, and every waking moment, playing was making me even more surly than usual. The cello was the last thing I needed. It stirred up too many bad thoughts.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I had everything under control.”
I glanced to the side to look at Frankie fully. Her dark brown hair was tangled and messy, strands hanging across her face, but her gray eyes were like chips of a stormy sky, tempestuous and focused on me. The shirt she was wearing was torn and hanging off her shoulder, but she didn’t seem to care. I tried to feign a look of indifference, but when my gaze fell on the red, hand-shaped bruises around her neck, I couldn’t stop the fury from rising. I wanted to kill Jared Bennett.
“I didn’t do it for you.” I blinked and then turned to stare at the wall in front of me. I couldn’t stand to look at those handprints another second, or I just might find myself trashing the desk I was chained to. That would get me a trip to the overcrowded holding cells.
“Right,” Frankie said brightly. “You were protecting Cat’s virtue.” She chuckled and kicked her feet up onto the desk next to her. The officer nearby gave her a disapproving look but didn’t discipline her. “I hate to tell you, but it was a wasted effort. I think Cat can hold her own just fine.”
I didn’t answer her because I’d been telling the truth. I hadn’t attacked Jared for Frankie’s sake, but I also hadn’t done it for Cat. I’d done it for me. I’d done it for all the times Jared had hurt Frankie, or anyone else, and I’d done nothing. Maybe if someone had stood up to him back then, really stood up to him, he wouldn’t have left such a trail of destruction in his wake. He wouldn’t have hurt that girl at Penn State. He would have thought twice about wrapping his hands around Frankie’s neck tonight.
There were too many times I’d stayed quiet and done the safe thing. Too many times I did what others wanted—my mother, my brother, and even Frankie. I’d let other people tell me what was right for my life. What I wanted. What I should do. And where had it gotten me?
I’d given up what I thought was only a moment in my life. Instead, I’d lost everything. I’d lost my brother, the girl I loved, and myself.
Against my will, my eyes found Frankie again, but she was staring at a pile of papers on the desk beside her, trying to decipher things she had no business reading.
Looking at her, I felt a yawning cavity inside. I wondered if it was possible to heal a heart if it was ripped out of your chest and then torn to shreds. How could I ever feel right again when things could never be fixed?
I shifted in the chair, attempting to get comfortable. Frankie had been right. The lack of boxers was causing a serious amount of chafing, and with my hands chained behind my back, there wasn’t much I could do to remedy the situation. As I tried to shift my position using my foot, the strap on my fucking too-small flip flop busted, and the piece of shit shoe flew off my foot and slid under the desk.
A short burst of laughter caught my attention, and I looked up to see that Frankie’s expression was amused.
“All right over there?” she asked, biting her lip and nodding at the spot where the flip flop had disappeared.
My chest flared with heat, and I wanted to bite her lip myself, whether in anger or lust I couldn’t say. It was probably a little bit of both. All I knew for sure was that I was irritated, and I didn’t know if it was because of her current good humor despite our situation, or because of the prank she’d pulled on me earlier. Most likely it was because I was chained to a chair with nothing between my dick and the rough denim of my jeans.
Fucking Frankie. Stealing all my goddamn underwear. She even took the dirty ones and the ones in the dryer. If I wasn’t so uncomfortable, I probably could have admitted just how brilliant of a prank it was.
I should at least be grateful she took it all instead of covering it in Icy Hot.
My mind wandered to all of the trouble we’d avoided and gotten in together. There was so much history between us. Some of it was perfect and most of it pleasant, but for the last few years, the tiny part of it that was painful was stronger than anything else. When I thought about that empty chair four years ago, none of the rest of it seemed to matter.
When I’d wanted her most, she’d left, and when I’d needed her most, she was nowhere to be found.
“So what do you think Dallas will say about this?” she asked, using her head to gesture at our surroundings. Frankie laughed and the sound sliced through me as if she was stabbing me right through the heart. “He’ll never believe you broke Bennett’s nose. I can’t wait to see his face when—“
I couldn’t bear to hear her talk about Dallas. I blurted out, “Why didn’t you come to Vegas?” interrupting her.
Frankie’s smirk disappeared, and she had the decency to look away. “I don’t want to talk about that here.”
“Why not? It’s not like we have anything else to do. Besides, whatever the reason, it can’t be any worse than the things I’ve already imagined,” I challenged.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head, refusing to look at me.
I huffed. “Pleading the fifth? Coward. After all this time, you can’t just give me an explanation? A reason? I deserve that much at least.”
Her head turned in my direction, and her expression was anguished. “I know. And I will. But not here. Not like this. Just…” she paused and licked her lips, taking a deep breath. “I came to Vegas. I swear I did. But I left…I left because I love you.”
My body went rigid and still.
Love. Not past tense. Not loved, love.
“Don’t,” I warned. “If nothing else, you owe me the truth, Frankie. Don’t tell me you did it for me. You knew not showing up would break me. How is that supposed to be love?”
Frankie took a few rough breaths and suddenly looked as broken as I felt. She blinked, and I was furious to see her eyes were clouded with sadness. She didn’t deserve to act sad over what she’d done. She had no right to act like she was the one who’d been hurt.
She opened her mouth to say something, but an officer walked up behind me and slid the key into the cuffs to undo them. “Your ride is here, Stone. Time to go home.”
He finished removing the metal, and I stood up, massaging my wrists as he motioned for me to walk toward the other end of the room. After only a few steps, Frankie cleared her throat.
“Don’t forget your flop,” she said. I looked over my shoulder to see that Frankie had blinked away the tears and heartbreak that had shadowed her face only moments before. She was sitting up taller—confidence had straightened her spine.
“I don’t need it anymore.” I kicked the other shoe off and picked it up. “And just so you know, this isn’t over yet, sweetheart,” I threatened, holding the shoe up so she could see it before I tossed it in the can.
“I was hoping you would say that.” Her lip quivered a bit, but she managed to quirk it into a half smile. “Do your worst.”