Be Mine

Chapter Twenty

Frankie

Everyone is still talking about Luke when I get into work Monday morning. So far, it’s been deemed an accident. Luke has a broken hip and leg, as well as a fractured wrist. He’s shaken up, but is coherent and has told some of the co-workers who visited him in the hospital he fell in trying to reach for something and was knocked unconscious. Whoever turned the baler on was unaware he was in there. Fortunately, the baler was mostly empty, and someone was able to find him in time. I don’t know if his memory is genuinely foggy or if he’s been warned to keep his mouth shut. Either way, there’s a sense of relief knowing no one suspects Noah.

I haven’t heard from him since we went to the police station yesterday. Part of me hoped he would call or text, but it’s been deafening silence. My gaze has been fixed down the other end of the store. I’ve found every reason to be on the floor, marking down products, pulling expired stock, and rearranging things that don’t need to be adjusted, in hopes of seeing him. Each time I see a person come through the flap doors, a glimmer of hope takes over me—only to be squashed with disappointment when I realize it’s not him.

My gut is twisted in knots not knowing where he is. Something happened between us this weekend. Something I wasn’t willing to fully examine while I was there. I was too preoccupied with finding a way out of the situation to sit and explore why I was there. Noah practically confessed his love to me. True to his promise, he never harmed me in ways I didn’t want him to. He worshipped my body, cherished me, and yet I never gave him anything in return. Just like when we were kids. I never stood up for him. I never claimed him the way he claimed me. And just like when we were kids, he retreated into obscurity, because without saying the words, I fucking rejected him. Again.

The more time passes, the more I realize there was always an inexplicable pull towards him. My body was aware of him, even if my mind refused to accept it. We connect on a cellular level, and when those atoms collide, it’s like fireworks. Can I look past his transgressions, to see what is underneath all those layers? Yesterday, I wasn’t too sure. But today, they seem trivial and pale in comparison to how my heart aches to see the man with the glacial stare and stony expression.

Taylor and I have been exchanging looks all morning, and I know she’s waiting until Cynthia fucks off somewhere to come talk to me. I try to busy myself. There’s a lull now another holiday is over, so I take inventory and place orders for things we need to refresh. But my mind isn’t in it. I’ve recounted cake toppers three times and misplaced my pen twice as much.

Naturally, once a bundle of work was to be done, some buns on the cooling racks ready to be bagged, Cynthia makes herself scarce. It would typically infuriate us, but I want to talk to Taylor, then go snooping around in search of Noah. I needed to speak to him.

“Let me guess, he hasn’t called?” Taylor was reading me like a book. If she only knew it was a hell of a lot more complex than that.

“No, he hasn’t. I haven’t seen or heard from him since you picked me up from the station.” I mutter, holding my palm to my forehead. I needed to ease the nerves.

“So text him. Who says you have to wait for the man?”

“I would but…”

“He never gave you his number,” she finishes the sentence for me. Clearly, Taylor has been subjected to the ghosting technique, as well.

I shake my head and lean against the cabinet housing some of the cake supplies, thumbing the pendant Noah gave me that sits under my shirt.

“Do you think it was a one-night stand?” she asks and I know where she’s going with this. She doesn’t want to see me embarrassing myself or breaking my heart over something that was only meant to be a little fun.

“No, it was more. I think I fucked up and I need to apologize.”

“Go see if he’s there. If Cynthia comes back, I’ll cover for you, say you have explosive diarrhea or some shit.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I got this. Go talk to your man.” She waves her hands at me to get moving, and I do. But before, I pull her into an embrace.

“Thank you, for being such a good friend,” I say. I’ve always felt like I was alone in this world. I kept myself guarded, afraid to get hurt again. But I’m realizing I have some people I can depend on, and Taylor is one of them. I’m lucky to have her.

I sneak through the traffic doors and walk through the back, walking the length of the store, past freezers and pallets of food. Outside of the meat department, I take a few calming breaths. I don’t have a plan on what to say, I just know I need to see him.

I push back the flaps, walking into the cool room, the smell instantly assaulting my senses. It’s seriously vile in here. The first thing I notice is the silence. No music. Only the hum of the freezer and the scrape of the blade across the butcher’s block. Donny, the department manager, is leaning against the long steel table cutting roasts, but he catches me out of the corner of his eye. He’s a small man, in his late fifties, cloaked in the same butcher’s coat Noah wears, the front smeared with blood.

“Hey, Frankie.” He smiles.

“Hey, Donny, you manning the ship all alone today?” I’m fishing for clues.

He wipes his hands on his coat and turns fully towards me. “Yeah, Noah’s taken a leave of absence, unfortunately. Kyle is going to pick up some extra shifts to help, but I only got the call yesterday, so I’m on my own for the day.”

He's taken a leave of absence. He left.