Chapter 38
I finally caught them alone. Not her—not Frankie, who couldn’t be bothered to raise her own kids. But them—our kids.
Emmie and Toby.
Stupid fucking names that Frankie picked out on her own.
The old woman, who had aimed her finger at my face once, years ago, threatening to kill me and bury me in her backyard, dragged them through the grocery store like she had any fucking right to keep them from me.
My kids.
My blood.
She had no fucking say over them, not any more than I did. Their father.
She paraded them down the aisles, herding them like puppies, stopping to talk to almost everyone like she couldn’t tell they were bored shitless.
And I followed a few steps behind with a cart I didn’t need.
Toby was taller than the last time I saw him on one of my visits. His face was sharper, older, but he was a mini-me, all the same. He didn’t even look twice at me as I pushed my luck and drifted closer in the cereal aisle.
“Toby,” His grandmother said as she walked away, “Pick out a cereal and let’s go.”
“I’m trying.” He argued, huffing as he stared at two boxes of sugary food that would rot his brain and his teeth.
I crouched down low a few feet away and pointed to the one between us. “That one’s my favorite.”
He blinked politely, like I was some stranger making small talk.
“Mine too.” He said, and then turned back, but instead of grabbing the one I pointed out, he picked up the one with some cartoon hockey player on the front and ran off toward where his grandma paused at the end of the aisle, talking to someone else.
The kid had no clue who I was, technically, he had never met me.
Good. That meant I could teach him. I could teach him respect and the importance of rank.
Emmie though—Emmie knew.
When I tore my gaze away from Toby and stood to my full height, I found her eyes locked on me, peeking from around her grandmother’s side. Her big green eyes widened the moment I stared back at her.
Her little hand gripped the cart like she was holding on for dear life. She didn’t speak, but her lip trembled as she ducked behind the old woman’s coat.
Almost as if I were the big terrible monster living under her bed, the shadow in the dark.
She remembered.
The fear on her face made her look so much like her mother, and my blood warmed with excitement. Frankie poisoned Emmie against me, filled her head with lies about where I was and why I wasn’t in their life, but her fear meant she remembered the truth about me.
Silently, I followed them from a safe distance. Every aisle.
Every step.
Emmie’s scared eyes searched for me around every turn.
I imagined walking up, snatching her wrist and making her face me head on. Making her say my name.
I imagined Toby’s confusion, the dawning horror when he realized the man talking to him wasn’t just some stranger but the man his mother told him was dead.
A real-life bogeyman.
But not here.
Not yet.
I wasn’t sloppy or stupid.
I had waited four years to make my last move against Frankie.
When I finally made my move, it wouldn’t be just her on her knees.
I’d make all of them fall to their knees for me.
The rink smelled how I expected, but walking in made my skin tingle with the closeness to my prize, like being in her space made it more real.
I slid onto a stool at the bar, ordered a beer from a middle-aged man and let my eyes roam the place. She wasn’t working; she was in her college classes, finalizing the last few weeks of her degree. It was pathetic that she thought a piece of paper would make her worthy of something.
Part of me wished she was working, so I could catch her behind the counter, watch her pour a drink with that sharp little smile she gave strangers. But tonight wasn’t the time for that.
It didn’t matter. I had time.
Soon, I’d have all the time in the world to fuck with her out in the open.
The older man next to me nursed a beer, half watching the muted hockey game on the TV above the bar. I recognized him from stalking Frankie—Rick. Rink rat, coach, bartender, Zamboni driver. He was always around.
Always in my way.
I waited until he sighed at a bad play before I broke the ice and spoke up, “This place is kind of a dump, isn’t it?”
He glanced over and snorted with a friendly smile, “Some people call this dump home, so watch it.”
I sipped my beer, pulling back my lips to smile at him with the same friendliness. “A friend of mine told me to stop by, Frankie. Cute little thing, dark hair, green eyes. Body full of curves and sass. You know her?”
Rick’s whole face softened, and he chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn’t help himself.
“Don’t let her hear you describing her like that, she’ll knock your lights out.
But yeah, everyone here knows Frankie. She runs the place and practically owns it.
Strong as they come, hell of a mom. Her kiddos are the heartbeat of this place. ”
My jaw clenched, but I forced a smile. “Yeah, I bet.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as if we were good friends. “She’s not working tonight, but you might see her around. I don’t know how she does it. Bartending, raising two kids, going to college, and keeping those two idiots on skates in line.”
“Two idiots?” I asked, feigning casualness.
Rick laughed, tossing back the rest of his drink. “Her men. Trav and Eli. One’s a firefighter, the other one builds homes. Good men. She’s got herself a little fan club here, I’ll tell you that.”
The words hit like a blade to the ribs, twisting in and cutting everything up to pieces. My grip tightened around my beer glass. Her men. He said it as if it were a fact. Like they belonged to her.
Like they all belonged to each other.
I leaned in, my smile tightening. “And she just what? Takes up with the both of them? No one bats an eye? Where I come from, the town would run her out with a scarlet A on her chest for being a slut.”
The menace in my voice was strong, and I grimaced as Rick’s grin faltered.
His brow kit as he studied me more closely, like the air had shifted, “Funny question for a stranger. How do you know Frankie again?”
I pushed back from the bar stool, sliding a few bills across the counter. “Doesn’t matter.”
Rick straightened, his shoulders squaring, “It does if you’re asking about Frankie.”
I met his stare head-on, letting him see the truth simmering just under my skin. “Tell her I stopped by. She’ll know who I am.”
And then I walked out, leaving him with his mouth half open and the unease settling in his gut.
Exactly where I wanted it.