Hold on to Hope Page 4

  She urged me up to sitting, forcing me to meet her eye, and she set her hand on my cheek. “You two were always something more, Frankie Leigh. Something so powerful that it scared me that you could share a connection that great so young. That’s not just going to go away.”

  My eyes dropped closed, and I shook my head. “But what if I want it to? What if I want to erase all the pain and the scars and the hurt he left behind? Forget him?”

  Her smile was sympathetic. “Love doesn’t work like that, Frankie Leigh. We cut ourselves wide open when we love. Make ourselves vulnerable. Our hearts reliant on the other. I have to wonder if that connection wasn’t so strong that Evan’s heart didn’t have the strength to bear it.”

  “But everything has changed.”

  Jack’s face moved through my mind.

  Guilt gripped me hard.

  God, I shouldn’t even be thinking any of these things. Having these feelings.

  Her brow pinched as she studied me, her brown hair tied up in a messy but stylish twist. I swore my mama was the prettiest woman in the whole world. Meant for us in every way.

  Our savior when me and my daddy had needed her most.

  “I’m not sayin’ everything hasn’t changed, Frankie. I’m not saying that the two of you could ever get back to the way that you were, even if you wanted to. All I’m saying is you don’t have to be ashamed of the way you feel. That it’s okay to hurt because we can’t hurt if we don’t love. And a life without love is the most tragic thing.”

  I jolted in dismay when I heard the back door whipping open.

  “Crap,” I muttered, frantically trying to wipe the soaking mess from my face. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

  Mama pushed to standing and held out her hand. “Come here, Sweet Pea.”

  She rushed over to the sink and wet a cloth under it, wiped my eyes as we listened to the chaos of the guys spilling in through the backdoor, nothing but a ruckus of laughter and carrying voices.

  My daddy and my two brothers. Daddy hadn’t exactly approved of the relationship Evan and I had shared growing up. The way we were always sneaking off. Holding hands. Far too close for little kids.

  He’d always been super protective of his little girl.

  He sure hadn’t liked it any better as we’d gotten older, either. Forbidding things that I had to believe now were just gonna happen, anyway.

  Unstoppable.

  I only wished I’d been strong enough to stop it myself. Before it’d been too late. Before I’d let it destroy everything.

  “You okay?” she asked, dabbing under my eye.

  No, I was absolutely not okay.

  But I was gonna fake it for a minute.

  With an erratic nod, I struggled to get myself together. To gather up the pieces littered all over the floor. No idea how I was going to recover from the aftermath.

  Ryland and Preston clomped down the hall from the back, jostling and pushing each other the way they always did. I swore the two of them were louder than a stampede of bulls.

  “Call was solid, man. You’re just going to have to accept it.” Ryland’s deep voice echoed through the air. Ryland was five years younger than me, close to no longer being a child.

  Sixteen and as burly as a beast. Hair and eyes super dark like Mama’s.

  Could hear Preston trying to be just as much a man. “Hell, no. That take down was all me. Ref was blind. Total bullshit.”

  “Hey, language.” My daddy’s voice reverberated the hall behind them, the sound of his work boots banging on the floor hitting me with a rush of perfect familiarity.

  I had the urge to press my hands to my chest to hold the feeling in.

  To remind myself of the relationships I had been given.

  To be grateful.

  Not to live my life in the grief of the one I wasn’t strong enough to keep.

  I pinned a smile to my face when my brothers rounded at the end of the hall.

  “Yo, Frankie,” Ryland called with one of his massive grins when he saw me. It was almost as massive as the guy. Ryland was all wide, hulking shoulders, and thick muscles. Sweat and grime covered every inch of his practice football uniform. “What are you doin’ here? Didn’t think we’d see you until this weekend.”

  Oh, you know, just having your everyday, run-of-the-mill meltdown.

  “I just wanted to stop by to say hi.” I actually managed to keep the warble out of my voice.

  Mom pointed at him when he started to plop onto the couch. “Don’t even think about it, buddy. Shower.”

  He laughed. “Ah, come on, Mom, can’t handle a little man in the room?”

  She arched a brow at him. “Little being the predominant word.”

  He chuckled low and swiped a hand through his drenched hair. “Wow, kick a guy in the nuts, why don’t you?”

  Preston raised his hand. “I’d be glad to do the honors.”

  I almost laughed.

  God, I loved my family.

  Loved them that way that Mama was talking about. Wholly. So big and powerful and fierce that I couldn’t imagine what my life would possibly look like without them in it.

  My brothers were so wild and crazy and fun.

  Growing up, our home had been a constant madhouse, two of them in an unending battle to outdo the other.

  Was pretty sure Ryland could take Preston flat out.

  Preston was only two years younger than Ryland, but they were worlds apart in size. Preston was still this little stick figure with blond hair and thin arms and the most carefree smile you’d ever seen.

  Was pretty sure he was getting ready to grow into his skin, though, even surer that he was going to look exactly like our daddy, tall and sinewy with lean, packed strength.

  Speaking of Daddy, he trudged in, wearing one of his crooked, coy grins. He went right for Mama, kissed her firm on the mouth. “Hi, baby. How was your day?”

  My insides clutched at the sweet, tender sight.

  It was a rare, precious thing to find a love like that.

  “Better now that you’re home,” she murmured up at him.

  He swatted her on the butt.

  “Ah, gross, you two. Get a room,” Preston gruffed the tease over his shoulder, going for the refrigerator to grab a Gatorade.

  “Plan to,” Daddy baited right back.

  Preston pretended to gag as he twisted the cap. “Why’d I even go there?”

  “Because you’re an idiot, that’s why,” Ryland tossed out, leaning a hip on the counter.

  A frown took hold of Preston’s face. “Way to be rude, man. You really do want me to junk punch you, don’t you?”

  Ryland gestured at himself. “Bring it and see what happens.”

  Preston gulped down his Gatorade, pointed a finger wrapped around the bottle at Ryland. “Don’t worry, brother. Your boys are safe. At least for now. But watch yourself tomorrow. Or maybe in your sleep.”

  “You even look at me when I’m sleeping, and you die. Think I’ll just take you out right now.” He started for Preston, and Preston cracked up, jumping into action, sliding behind the round dining table situated in the nook and grabbing onto the back of a chair like he might have to use it to propel himself back over to the other side.

  Ryland scrambled for him, a shimmy and fake lurch.

  Preston squealed like a pig.

  Affection floated, and a small giggle slipped free.

  It was no wonder I came here.

  The reminder that life went on. That there was joy all around me. Drawn to the chaos and the loyalty.

  I just wished Evan would have felt some of it.

  “Hey, hey. No roughhousing in the house.” Mama shooed them both.

  “That is the very definition of roughhousing, Mom. Can’t do it outside.” Preston tossed her the smart-mouthed tease while Ryland relented and started for the archway so he could go upstairs, canting me a smile when he paused. “You sticking around for dinner?”

  I rubbed my sweaty palms up my arm
s. “I don’t think so. I was just stopping by to say hi.”

  He frowned like I was crazy. “Have you smelled what Mom is cooking?”

  I smiled at him. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure after you get to it, there won’t be any left for me.”

  “True story,” he said, sending me a wave as he headed for the stairs. “See you this weekend then.”

  Preston loped along behind him. “See ya, Frankie! Love you. Way more than Ryland does.” He cracked up at that as he started up the stairway behind Ryland.

  “You wish, asshole.” Ryland pushed him back down a single step.

  “Language,” Daddy shouted again.

  “Love you both,” I hollered after them. I thought it was a small miracle that the words didn’t crack.

  That I didn’t come loose again.

  Crumble to the floor.

  “Boys.” Mama rolled her eyes with all her affection, though her worry was still blatant as she turned her gaze on me.

  Soft and concerned and filled with her undying support.

  Uncle Kale and Carly were the only ones who really knew.

  But I thought Mama had some inclination. Mother’s intuition that her little girl had been completely shredded in some way.

  Decimated.

  Utterly destroyed.

  Daddy grinned like he hadn’t picked up on the mood quite yet as he swung his attention to me, hitting me with the adoration that always glowed in his eyes.

  He was pretty much the most awesome daddy around.

  Except that made him about as intuitive as Mama.

  His smile slipped.

  “What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?”

  “Oh, absolutely nothin’.” I pinned on a bright, fake smile.

  Lies.

  All lies.

  Honestly, there was no reason to beat around the bush. No doubt, that news was going to spread like wildfire.

  Hell, I had no idea how he didn’t already know.

  “Evan’s back,” Mama said where she was pulling off the lid to stir the bubbling stew, her voice deep with implication.

  Daddy hissed, gripped a handful of hair in his own shock and dread. “What?”

  Evan disappearing had done a number on all of us.

  It was like Daddy’s attention didn’t know where to land, the weight of it whipping back and forth between Mama and me, demanding answers.

  He loved Evan. Of course, he did. But all those fatherly instincts had always landed on the protective side of his little girl when it’d come to us.

  But I knew how worried he’d been when Evan had left. Had heard him up pacing the floors while I’d lain in my room and cried.

  None of us able to find sleep.

  No one able to believe he would do something so horrible to Kale and Hope.

  That he would leave that way.

  Little did my daddy know that he had been devastating me in a way I would never recover from.

  Nodding, I went for as casual as I could, talking around the torment crushing my windpipe. “Yeah, he took us all by surprise by just waltzing into A Drop of Hope late this afternoon.”

  “He good?” Real concern moved through Dad’s expression. Seemed all of our thoughts immediately went that direction when it came to Evan.

  Unable to stop it.

  “He looked like he was, at least. Healthy.” I realized I was hugging myself, tighter and tighter, the words coming thinner with each that I released until the breath was leaving me on a haggard rasp. “He’s got a baby.”

  Daddy’s eyes raked me like he was looking for the possibility that it was mine.

  I wanted to weep.

  “With who?”

  I flinched. Hard. He might as well have driven an ice pick into my eye. “Who knows? I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. You know, I figured he and Aunt Hope needed to talk first before I got in the way and started monopolizin’ all his time the way I used to do.” I tossed it out like it was no big deal, but my voice was shaking all over the place, and again, I was thinking I was goin’ to get sick right there on the floor. “Well, I’d better go. It’s getting late.”

  Mama frowned her worry from behind Daddy, hating that we couldn’t talk freely, giving me a look that she was there for me, no matter what. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? I do have plenty.”

  “I think I need to go. Jack mentioned us grabbing dinner.”

  That sent nausea rebounding for a third round.

  Just awesome.

  Daddy glowered. Was pretty sure he didn’t believe a word. He reached out and took me by the arm.

  Softly.

  In all his care.

  “Frankie.” His voice was hoarse, the man so gruff and raw and masculine that you wouldn’t think he would have the capacity.

  But underneath all that rugged exterior was the gentlest man.

  My eyes squeezed shut. “Please, Daddy. I can’t talk about this right now.”

  He hesitated, warring, before he gave a tight nod. “Okay. Just . . . know you can come to us with anything.”

  Sorrow pulled my lips into a twisted, vacant smile. “Thank you. I’ll . . .” I started to back away. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Daddy used to call me his Sunshine. Same as Evan. I wondered if my daddy had recognized that it was three years ago that light had gone dim.

  He huffed out a worried sigh. “Frankie.”

  “It’s fine, Daddy. I’m fine.”

  More lies.

  But sometimes telling yourself them was the only way to make it through the day.

  I hiked up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek, did the same to my mama, fighting tears as I turned around and beelined for the door, needing to get the heck out of there before I fell apart again.

  Because I could feel it coming on.

  The hopelessness.

  The helplessness.

  The loss that screamed and wailed.

  Not that it was going to magically disappear when I got home. To the quiet and silence and the questions that I knew were going to consume me the second I was alone.

  Topple me into a spiral I might not recover from.

  But at least I could do it in private.

  I turned the knob on the front door, and I stepped out onto the side deck and rushed down the steps, only to stumble to a stop when I hit the bottom.

  Twilight danced through the tall, towering trees, and a wistful blue filled the sky that was just getting dotted with a few stars. The air dense with the scent of honeysuckle and humidity.

  I felt stifled by it.

  Stuck in it.

  Maybe the whole reason I’d shown up here was because my spirit had called out that this was where he would be.

  Drawn.

  Compelled.

  Just like my sight that was racing up the opposite side of the street toward Evan’s childhood home.

  The pull intense.

  The power fierce.

  Stunning and striking and unrelenting.

  I tried to inhale against the clot in my throat.

  To stand and not cower when it felt like the sky was toppling down and spilling to the Earth. Every star falling free. Crashing to the ground.

  I tried to see through the turmoil. Through the tears blurring my eyes.

  But the only thing I was seeing was Evan standing at the side of a car that I didn’t recognize but I had to believe was his.

  This beautiful, beautiful boy that my fingers itched to remember. That my spirit demanded to once again know.

  Impossible.

  No one had ever loved me the way Evan Bryant had.

  And no one held the power to hurt me the way he could.

  He’d left me when I’d needed him most.

  Destroyed and decimated.

  Still, I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch as he ducked into the backseat and pulled out what I was pretty sure was a diaper bag, and my heart was panging with horrible, horrible things.

  Thoughts I cou
ldn’t entertain.

  He turned around. Awareness jolted through his body, and immediately his gaze landed on me.

  Our eyes got tangled.

  Tangled like the tendrils of our spirits that were thrashing wild.

  Reaching for the other.

  Hurt and desperation and need.

  The bag slipped from his hold, hitting the ground at his feet with a thud, and he stood there, fisting those big hands.

  Hands I couldn’t help but remember the way they’d felt against my skin.

  There was nothing I could do but move.

  Carried toward the desolation.

  Just needing to feel him one more time.

  To make sure he was whole and safe and real.

  Feet numb below me, I fumbled over the loose gravel of my parents’ drive, not pausing when I floundered across the street.

  My gaze raced over him like he might disappear, sight filling full of his chiseled jaw and his full lips and the distinct angle of his nose.

  And I remembered and I remembered and I remembered . . .

  But I was noticing all the differences, too.

  His brow darker.

  Everything a little harder.

  His demeanor strong and stony and rife with a plea.

  To me, he’d always been the most beautiful boy. Now the man was making my body ache in the most painful of ways.

  Acute.

  Piercing.

  His presence this violence that wracked my insides.

  He worked that jaw, his thick throat bobbing heavily.

  And suddenly, I was dropping everything.

  My pride and my fear and the questions and hurt that spun their wrath in the space that separated us.

  Howling and whipping and screaming.

  I braved it.

  The distance.

  The pain.

  Every obstacle that stood in our way.

  I ran through it.

  Heart first.

  Until I was throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his warm, strong body.

  The feel of him intoxicating.

  Dizzying.

  I pressed my ear to his chest. Against the bang, bang, bang that thundered at his ribs.

  Life. Life. Life.

  He hesitated, his hands glued to his sides.

  Could almost feel the years rise between us like a barrier.