26. Chapter 26
Frankie
“She’d been living with us for a couple of years before any romantic feelings came to light.
She was … my best friend. Even though I was a year older, we did everything together.
It was hard at first to distinguish between normal friend affections and …
something more. But then her changing around me became a whole other thing.
” Frankie could still remember the first time she’d noticed Emily in a sexual way. Damn bikinis .
“She didn’t want me, not like that.” Shaking her head, tears blurred Frankie’s image of Evan before her.
She let them fall down her cheeks, hot and full of old pain.
A droplet landed on the picture in her hand, and she used her thumb to wipe it clear of Emily’s hair.
Her chest ached, all the lingering emotions from years past causing a steady, dull void in a piece of her heart.
“I loved her, but she didn’t … not like that.
Like how I wanted.” Emily had tried, for a time.
After that damn party, after the attack …
“What happened to her?” Evan reached across the breakfast table to grasp her hand in theirs.
They had managed to sit down again after Frankie’s initial outburst. She was calmer now, no doubt from the whiskey she’d drunk.
She was nursing her third glass, swishing the liquid around gently as she thought of how best to answer Evan.
It was hard to deliver the “how” of Emily’s death without explaining the “why”.
“She died.” Frankie swallowed, the lump in her throat as raw as her heart was right then. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure how much of her past she should share. Or if she could at all. Her chest squeezed as the night of the party came back to her.
It had been the beginning of the end for her and Emily.
“It was my fault. I knew we shouldn’t, but …
” Frankie shook her head, lifting the tumbler to her lips again.
The whiskey no longer burned going down.
“Emily wanted to go to a party in the neighborhood. A guy she liked from school was going. You know, typical jock douchebag who didn’t deserve a girl like Emily.
Auntie B had already said no, which I was secretly grateful for, but Em was so crushed.
She wanted to sneak out to the party anyway and begged me to go with her.
I never could say no to her, and honestly, would have done anything for the smile she gave me when I finally caved. ”
Emily had been so excited to see Brett, and regardless that it killed Frankie at the time, seeing how happy she was had been everything. Stupid teenage love.
Voice cracking, Frankie continued, not daring to look at Evan as she did so. “We were … drugged and … and raped at that party.”
Evan cursed, and as much as her brain screamed at her to stop, Frankie took another drink and pushed through. Liquid courage. “Years and many therapy sessions later, and I still can’t stand the smell of a certain brand of body spray. Funny, isn’t it?”
She didn’t give Evan the explicit details, like how long it’d taken her to mistakenly accept a drink from a stranger near the beer keg.
She’d been so proud of herself for sourcing beers for her and Emily without needing the help of Brett and his loser friends.
And watching as Emily chugged it back like it was her tenth party instead of her first. God, Frankie had been so in love with her.
And then after—she’d never been able to pinpoint how long after—hearing Emily’s sobs stop and feeling the crushing weight on top of Frankie.
No, she didn’t tell Evan how the rumble of excitement let her know others were in the room, watching, waiting for their turn.
That the sound of their jeers still sometimes echoed in the recesses of her mind on days she felt low.
She didn’t describe the relief she’d felt when the weight on her lifted, only for fresh panic to set in as rough hands grabbed her wrists and someone else took their place.
Over and over before she’d finally lost consciousness again.
She didn’t tell Evan how pathetically grateful she’d been to have woken the following morning in an unfamiliar backyard, three blocks from where the party had been.
Because Emily had been there beside her, bruised and bloody as well, but alive .
She didn’t explain just how long it’d taken her and Emily to figure out that it was their word against the boys.
They’d been left with zero evidence of the attack.
Frankie had spent years digging for answers around that night, trying to find proof that Brett had been involved since the attackers had worn masks.
The grainy images haunting her hadn’t been substantial enough for a case.
Evan didn’t need to know about any of that.
It wasn’t until therapy that she chose to let it all go.
The attack had stolen too much of her life already.
What better “fuck you” could she give than to dedicate her career to helping stop future rapists?
After the incident with Caleb, Frankie had decided helping women in a different way would be less self-sacrificing.
“Fuck, Frankie. I’m so sorry.” Evan’s eyes were leaking tears as well, yet another reason Frankie knew their feelings for her were genuine. It wasn’t an act; Evan truly cared for her.
She squeezed their hand, knowing that if she didn’t finish the story, she’d never bring it up again.
It was the biggest scar on her heart, bigger still than what killing Caleb had cost her.
“Emily was five months along before any of us realized she was pregnant. She’d sat me down in our bedroom one day, hoping that if she told me, I’d figure out a way to break the news to Auntie B.
Since she was fifteen and a foster kid, we had no idea what would happen to her or the baby when her social worker found out. ”
Frankie swallowed hard, faint images of Emily’s thigh touching hers all those years ago.
What an exhilarating feeling it had been back then, just to have her close enough to touch.
“I comforted her, we cried for what happened to us, I wiped her tears away, and then she kissed me. For the first time ever, she’d acknowledged that there could be anything more between us.
It’d been … everything I could ever hope for.
We kissed for hours, long into the night. She fell asleep in my arms.
“I-I promised I’d take care of her and the baby.
When she woke up, though, she wanted to forget what happened.
So I said okay. Her happiness was all that mattered to me and, well, neither of us was the same after the attack.
Emily’s moods had been up and down for a long time, but a part of me clung to the hope that she’d change her mind down the road. ”
“No more,” Evan said when she reached for the bottle of whiskey again. They passed her a glass of water instead. Frankie scowled, but took it from them anyway, downing half the contents.
“And so I sat Emily down with Auntie B and explained what she couldn’t.
I told Auntie B everything—about the party, the drugs, and t-the …
” Frankie’s voice caught on the last word.
Her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed past the raw memories.
Her eyes drifted closed as more tears fell.
They had suffered in silence until that night.
It wasn’t until Auntie B learned of the attack that the police were notified. By then, it’d been too late.
Evan’s hand slipped into hers. “This is hurting you. That wasn’t my intention.”
“No, it’s okay. More than anyone else, you deserve to know me, little thief.
” Frankie blew out a breath, squeezing Evan’s hand again before releasing it.
To get through the next part, she’d need all the strength she could get, and touching Evan made her feel anything but strong.
“Fast forward several months. Auntie B had it worked out that Emily and the baby stayed with us, and she fostered him too. They talked about Emily giving him up for adoption, but she didn’t want that.
If it had been me … but not Emily. In her eyes, she was trying to right a wrong. ”
Frankie lifted the bottle of whiskey, brushing Evan’s hand away when they tried to stop her.
Her hand shook as she poured a couple of fingers into the empty tumbler.
She picked the glass up, downing the amber liquid in one big gulp before setting it back down with a hard thud.
Her hazy eyes met the blatant concern in Evan’s, and before Frankie could chicken out, she spoke the words she’d never told anyone.
“Emily hung herself a month later.”