Chapter 38 Revelations
revelations
FRANKIE
I’m in love with her.
I don’t know why I was kidding myself, because I’ve always been in love with her.
Ever since I knew what love was, it was her.
And it’s crazy to me that I’m only realizing this now, while I rub massage wax into her thighs.
She jumps a little as I hit a tender spot just above her knee.
“That hurt?”
“The opposite. I got surgery on that knee just after V was born, and sometimes the muscle gets a little tight.”
I look a bit closer, catching a faint white scar that runs down her kneecap.
How did I not notice that before?
“What happened?”
“Oh.” She laughs. “I was doing a sold-out show, in this huge arena, kind of like the start of a comeback tour. That’s what Damien called it at least. We’re talking 20,000 people, jumping and screaming.
Well, I was super into it, feeling the crowd, feeling the music, so I started jumping and dancing too.
All of a sudden I felt this ripping sensation, and boom. Hit the floor.”
“Ouch.” I wince. “I guess what I really should be asking is who let you dance in the first place? Don’t they know your history of being as graceful as a newborn deer?”
Daphne lets out a squawk of protest, leaning in and ruffling my hair.
“Shut up! There’s no way I was that bad.”
“Remember when you tried to tightrope walk on a fence and broke your wrist, or the time you tried to skateboard and broke your other wrist, or that time with the plate glass—”
“Okay, okay!” She laughs, giving me a shove. “Jesus, I spent most of my career trying to forget all that stuff so I wouldn’t psych myself out. I was hoping everyone else would have forgotten too.”
“How could I? I was the one who had to patch you up all the time.”
“Alright, alright. I think I deserve an apology for the roast I just endured.”
“Yeah? How’s this?”
I kiss my way up her body, breathing in the heady scent of vanilla and musk left over from the candle.
Daphne sighs, running her fingers through my hair.
“Are you always this cuddly after a big night?”
I have to keep telling myself that this isn’t real. The feelings might be, but us?
“Unfortunately for you, yes. Is that a bad thing?”
No.
“Not at all. I like it.”
Nobody gets hurt this time.
We’ll both move on, and I’ll watch her fall in love with someone else knowing it could have been me, but that’s how it’s always been.
Christ, I’m still just as pathetic as I was when I was a kid.
At least this time I knew what I was getting myself into, but it’s not making that big, bitter pill any easier to swallow.
“How about a shower?” I ask, trying my best to distract myself. “After that I’ve got some big fluffy robes, I can pour us a glass of wine, and we can watch whatever you want on TV.”
“Notting Hill?”
I grin.
“Classic.”
I scoop her up off the bed and carry her into the bathroom where I’ve got everything laid out: towels, robes, and another candle that I quickly light, this one of the more traditional variety.
“Oh, fuck, those smell incredible.”
Daphne groans as the scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the bathroom.
“Pretty good, huh?” I turn on the shower. “My buddy’s mom makes a shitload of bath products and candles, and she loads us up with them every Christmas. Pretty sure I’ve saved about a thousand dollars over the last few years.”
Daphne laughs as I help her into the shower, the steam filling up the space around us, and I pass her a bar of soap.
“This one is honey and mint.”
“Your mom’s favorite was mint tea with—”
“Honey.”
The final word comes out in unison.
“Yeah, Logan’s mom made it special for my birthday.”
I start to glide the soap along her skin, but after a few moments, I’m overcome with a wholly new sense of terror.
This is the closest I’ve ever let anyone get, and all it took was her showing up in that alley.
I know I have to stop this runaway train before it kills me, but I can’t because I love the way it makes me feel, even knowing how it’ll end.
My chest tightens, and I get that stinging sensation in the tip of my nose; I try my hardest to will away the tears, but it’s too late.
“Frankie,” she murmurs, placing a hand on my cheek. “Hey, look at me.”
“I’m okay. It’s just a drop.”
Daphne grasps my chin, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“Kink is about trust, right?”
I nod.
“Then trust me.”
“I do.”
I really do, but…
“Can I do anything?”
If she were anyone else I’d make something up, ask her just to hold me and say that’d make it all okay, but I promised her trust.
“You used to, uh… you used to sing this song at the bar. Uh, Fleetwood Mac— shit, I know that’s not helpful— it was all piano. It wasn’t Stevie Nicks singing, it was…”
She winds her arms around me, resting her head on my chest and starts to hum. I recognize it immediately, and suddenly there’s no stopping the tears anymore.
“It’s okay,” she breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I hold her tight as she continues to sing.
Words this time.
Her voice is steady, and despite the tears that won’t stop rolling down my cheeks, it’s already starting to soothe me.
I start to float back down to earth, taking a few breaths as she rubs my back accompanied by the final few words of the song.
“What’s it called?”
“Songbird. Grandpa taught me how to play it on the piano.”
“It’s beautiful.”
She takes a small step back, resting one hand on my cheek.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I reply. “Sometimes it’s hard to keep shit in check, you know?”
“Do I ever,” she laughs. “You saw my shenanigans with that high heel and Cole the other day.”
“You were always fiery,” I laugh. “And some people always had it coming.”
She sighs.
“Maybe so, but handling my anger feels different these days.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going through perimenopause, and that hormonal shit?” She shakes her head. “It’s…”
“Whackadoodle?”
Daphe barks out a laugh, nodding her head.
It’s the first word that came to mind. Logan and I have started using it in place of some more colorful phrases during department meetings.
“Whackadoodle is good, but even that might be an understatement.”
I whistle, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“Sounds rough, Firecracker.”
“Tell me about it.” She lets out a long sigh. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are times when I just don’t have control over the things I do, or the shit that comes out of my mouth.
It’s like this demon takes over or something— like with Cole?
I didn’t just want to hit him, I wanted to make it hurt.
Badly.” She shakes her head, a look of shame flooding her face.
“That’s not me. At least I don’t want it to be. ”
Honestly, I wish she’d got him in the eye.
“Well, I’d be happy to be your lawyer.”
She snorts.
“Do you know anything about the law?”
I tap my chin in faux-contemplation, trying to keep a straight face.
“The judge is called Your Majesty, right? That’s an important one.”
She snorts.
“Wooooow! Great work, Hughes.”
“Right? I’m already nailing this.”
“So true. How does it feel to be the hot, up-and-coming legal counsel?”
“I won’t lie, it’s hard work. There’s been a lot of pointing at things, slamming my fist on tables, and screaming, you’re out of order! And that’s pretty crazy considering I haven’t even been in a courtroom yet.”
Daphne boops me on the nose.
“I missed this, you know.”
“What? Me pretending to be the worst lawyer on the planet?”
“No, you dork,” she laughs, grabbing the shampoo. “Hanging out with you.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
I pluck the bottle from her and she lets me shampoo her hair, and I can feel myself blushing as she lets out tiny moans of pleasure while I massage her scalp.
“You’re good at that.”
“I’m a man of many talents.” I kiss her temple, positioning her under the shower head to rinse out the suds. “And I like taking care of people.”
“You’re really good at that,” she murmurs.
I finish rising off her hair, and then we just stand there, wrapped up in each other’s arms until the water starts to run cold. Finally, I turn off the tap, and the two of us step out before I help her dry off.
“This is like a kinky hotel,” she teases as I wrap her up in a big fluffy robe.
“Nothing but the best for our most esteemed guest.”
Daphne smirks, turning to the mirror. I watch with fascination as she delicately applies her regimen of serums and moisturizers to her face and neck.
“Remember when we were kids and you’d watch me do my eyeliner before school in the mornings?”
“Of course.” I lean up against the counter, picking some stray fuzz off of her robe. “And if I remember right, it was my job to make sure your wings were even.”
“You did a fabulous job.”
She moves to pick up her brush, but I beat her to it, slipping behind her and gliding it through her hair. Daphne doesn’t say a word, just stares at me in the mirror.
I love a good, messy session like the one we just had, but the aftercare is actually my favorite part. The quiet moments when I’m really caring for someone make me feel a little less alone in the world.
“You got a hair tie in that makeup bag?” I ask, sectioning her hair into three parts.
She nods, digging through it and handing me a small black band as I start to work her hair into a French braid.
“You are… so sweet, Frankie.”
Her voice has that honeyed quality to it, and I nearly start to cry again.
Focus on the braid.
Gather, cross, switch. Gather, cross, switch.
“I like taking care of you.”
I dove into kink because it’s about looking after people, something I’ve done my whole goddamn life, and I can tell by the look in Daphne’s eyes that she’s already clocked me.
“Shit,” I huff, struggling to stay in control. “I guess this is just a really big drop.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I will.” I smile, just a little more sadly than I’d like. “Thanks to you.”
“How many French toasts do you want?”