Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
I refused to chase Cole another second.
Stuffing my clothes into my bag, I had to get the hell out of this house. I needed a moment alone to process why I had this gripping sense of panic and foreboding within me.
God, it felt like I was going through a breakup except Cole and I were never together. Not really.
Everything about our relationship was fake.
As fake as he was.
I had no idea where he was in the house, but it didn’t matter as long as he stayed away from me.
How had I let him touch me?
He didn’t stop me as I hurried out, dragging my shit behind me, and slammed the door hard, essentially closing the door on Cole. This chapter of my life was finished.
Despite being swarmed in anger and hurt, I meant every word I said.
I swore as I stomped through the sandy grass, hauling my bag, I felt his eyes on me through one of the windows, but I refused to look.
I didn’t want to deal with or think about money when I walked through my front door, but the reality of my situation hit me in the face. My lif e was the same as when I left. I had no money. I was as poor as before. Poorer considering I’d already spent a chunk of the deposit Cole had given me on past due bills.
My shoulders slumped, and my bag dropped to the entryway floor, defeat draining me. It would take me years to repay Cole what I’d spent, and in just a snap, my future shifted, and I watched my dreams vanish. I saw myself twenty years from now at the diner in the same worn-out, stained clothes shoving wrinkled dollars into my pockets.
The first tear rolled down my cheek, and I swiped at it.
Cole Riley wasn’t worth my tears.
My back hit the closed door as I glanced around with blurry eyes. It was no secret I had emotional damage.
My mother had left. Clearly, she hadn’t wanted a daughter.
The guilt from Dad’s accident.
The stigma that followed me for being poor.
And now this. The day I made myself vulnerable to another human, he cut me, treating me like every other jerk.
It fucking stung.
No, stung wasn’t strong enough for what I felt, for the emotion clogging my throat. It fucking hurt like a lacerated wound.
How foolish of me to think Cole was different, that he wasn’t just some rich jerk with no regard for labels.
Why had I let my guard down?
I’d broken my cardinal rule.
Never trust a summer prick.
Trusting led to things like opening your heart and relying on another person. Two things I rarely did for good reasons. In my life, people could be shitty, downright jackasses. Were there good, trustworthy people? Yes, but the number of assholes outnumbered them by the thousands. I was lucky to find Frankie. She was like my other half, and right now, I needed my best friend.
When shit got rough, she was the one who pulled me through, stood by me, and would go down with me.
I pulled out my phone.
“Frankie,” I said when she picked up, my voice hitching .
“What’s wrong?” she asked without hesitation. Frankie knew me like a sister and could immediately tell something had happened by my tone.
“I need you,” I whispered into the phone.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
T he longest ten minutes ever passed before I finally heard Frankie’s car pull into my driveway through my opened bedroom window. I had the curtains drawn like a barricade between me and the house next door. I didn’t want to see it. I considered hauling out the storm shutters again just to prevent any temptations. I wouldn’t be the poor girl pining for the prince in the castle she could never have.
I wasn’t Cinderella.
And Cole wasn’t my fucking Prince Charming.
In the end, I stayed in my room, unable to find the energy to do anything but sit on my bed and wait for Frankie.
She let herself into my house and poked her head through my bedroom door. “Well, don’t you look like someone shit on your heart.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. Nothing inside me felt any joy, yet Frankie could draw out the emotion regardless of how deep it was buried under heaps of pain and hurt. A weak chuckle escaped my lips despite shaking my head at her.
Then the tears fell.
In only a few strides, Frankie was at the bed, climbing in beside me. Her arm wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me in close to her. “Oh, honey, if he doesn’t want you, then he’s a colossal idiot.”
I rested my head on her shoulder. I’d expect a mom to say something like that, and since I didn’t have one, hearing it from Frankie was just as good. “He really is,” I agreed.
She laid her head on top of mine. “Is he at the house?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to run over there and show him what real pain feels like.”
“That would be fantastic.” But then I remembered. “He has a gun. ”
Frankie didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Don’t we all.”
“Frankie,” I shrieked through watery eyes, my voice coming out deeper and huskier than normal. “You do not have a gun.”
She clucked her tongue. “Arie, have I taught you nothing?”
I couldn’t tell if she was serious or trying to lighten my mood. What mattered was she was here when I needed her. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’re not the first girl to fall for guys like Riley. Hell, I’m guilty of falling numerous times and can’t seem to learn my lesson. They’re not worthy of us. You and I, Arie, are too badass for douchebags. They can’t handle us, and that’s the truth.”
“I hate him,” I muttered.
She squeezed my shoulder. “Me too, honey. Me too. And we can hate him for as long as it takes. Years. Hell, forever if necessary.”
“Forever sounds nice,” I lied. The truth was the idea of never seeing Cole again caused a storm of panic to brew in my chest.
Too soon, I decided. It was too soon, too fresh, to have those thoughts.
D ad didn’t pry too much into why I was suddenly home and not my usual self. He noticed. It was difficult not to. Even Sadie seemed to want to cheer me up, making my favorite banana chocolate-chip muffins.
I took a few days for myself to wallow and hibernate. Sometimes a person needed to sulk in their misery. I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself, and after giving myself those few days, I had a better mindset.
Today, I promised I’d get out into the world.
I’d go to the diner and beg Ann for my job because sitting at home would drive me to walk off a cliff. Not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with Dad or even Sadie. I just wasn’t an idle person. Without constant chaos, I was lost.
Frankie was picking me up, and according to her text, I had seven minutes before she rolled into my driveway .
I’d washed my hair for the first time in days, and I was putting the last finishing touches of makeup on my clean face.
I looked halfway decent.
Grabbing my phone, I checked to see if I had missed any messages from Frankie or someone else.
That someone wasn’t Cole. Tell that to the pit in my stomach I did my best to ignore.
He hadn’t once reached out. Hadn’t called or texted, but it was better this way. A clean break. For my sanity, I needed to cut ties, not hold on to threads that would only snap anyway.
I shoved the phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts and headed into the kitchen where Dad was popping the top on a beer. That pit in my gut grew bigger. Don’t let it get to you.
“Are you going out?” he asked, noticing my appearance.
“Yeah, Frankie is on her way,” I said, filling a water bottle.
“Do you want to talk about what happened with your other job?” he tentatively asked.
“No, not really, but do you know anyone hiring?” I didn’t just need to get my job at the diner back, but I also had to look for another. Working myself into the grave was the only way I’d ever repay Cole.
Dad studied me, his brows drawn together thoughtfully. I could tell he wanted me to open up about what had been bothering me the last week, but he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t talk about it until I was ready. We weren’t the kind of family who was big on sharing feelings. “I’ll make some calls. Ask around. Sadie might know of something.”
A horn honked outside. Frankie had arrived, saving me from any further guilt. I hated keeping secrets from Dad, but it had become easier in the last couple of years. The more I worked, the more we drifted apart and the easier it was to harbor the deep shit inside. “I’ll see you later tonight,” I said, heading for the front door.
“What do you say we swing by the convenience store, grab a couple of margarita coolers, and get day drunk at Wrath’s Peak instead?” Frankie suggested when I got into her car, her foot on the gas before I had my seat belt latched.
Despite driving a beater she got from her grandma, Frankie drove like an act ual psycho. I spent most of the time in the passenger seat braced for impact or with my eyes closed. “That’s a wild suggestion this early in the day,” I replied, clicking my buckle.
“It’s past noon,” she argued, messing with the music selection until she found a song worthy of listening to.
Dropping my bag onto the floor, I settled into the seat. “I’ll make you a deal. We can get drunk at Wrath Peak’s after I get a job.”
“Fuck, that could take weeks,” Frankie groaned.
I grinned. “Just drive and try not to run us off the road or anyone else for that matter.”
Her car didn’t have air, heat, or other essential parts, but somehow the damn thing always started. We had the windows cranked down, and Frankie’s auburn hair whirled around her face. “Have you heard anything from you-know-who?”
Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I quickly put up my hair. If I didn’t, I risked looking like a tangled mess. Unlike Frankie, chaotic hair didn’t look sexy on me. “No, thank God,” I sighed.
“Uh-huh,” she muttered like she didn’t believe me.
“I told you it’s over.” I did my best to fortify my conviction, not just for Frankie but for me. I needed to believe it to move on.
“Maybe for him but not you. I know you think throwing yourself into work will help make the hurt go away. It won’t. Not completely. It’s like putting a Band-Aid on a deep cut. It’s only a temporary fix because, when you’re alone again in your room, your mind will go back there and bring all those suppressed feelings you buried during the day back.”
I studied my friend, her eyes focused on the road. “When did you get so philosophical?”
She gave me a flippant smile. “When you’ve fallen in love as many times as I have, that’s when.”
I rolled my eyes. “You do fall for a new guy every week.”
“Exactly.”
I shook my head. “Why would you ever put yourself out there again knowing when it ends you feel like shit?”
“Simple,” she said with a shrug as if she had unlocked the secrets of the heart. “There’s always that chance it won’t end, but I won’t know unless I take the risk. ”
That pretty much summed up our personalities. Frankie took risks. I was careful, wary. Well, when it came to love. It was the one aspect of my life I could control. “I wasn’t in love with him.”
She glanced left and right before steering the car onto the boardwalk. “Maybe not, but you were on your way there.”
Cars lined the streets on both sides, meaning there was no parking. Frankie steered her clunky car into the lot a few blocks over. It wasn’t a far walk to the diner, and since her car didn’t have working AC, it might be cooler outside.
Walking, we turned the corner less than a block from the diner when someone stopped us. “Excuse me, are you Arie Quinn?” they asked Frankie.
She looked the guy up and down, sizing him up. “Depends on who’s asking?”
He had his hands shoved in his pocket and a backward hat on his head, and regardless of the surfer boy looks, I got a rotten feeling. “I have something for her.”
“Aren’t you cheeky.” She eyed him now with a less suspicious nature and a glint of intrigue, judging him to see if he was worth her time. “If it’s not diamonds, cash, or sex, I’m not interested.”
I rolled my eyes. How Frankie could go from cynical to flirty in 2.0 seconds was beyond me.
Neither Frankie nor I saw the knife concealed in his pocket until he whipped it out and thrust it into her lower stomach. My best friend gasped, her gaze glancing down to the blade stuck in her gut. Her expression went from surprise to shock to agony in a matter of seconds like she couldn’t believe she’d been stabbed.
I was right there with her.
In broad daylight for fuck’s sake.
Everything happened so damn fast. Her attacker sort of oddly hugged her to block the knife as he yanked it out and plunged the weapon in again.
And again. And again.
I lost count of the number of times he impaled my best friend because I started screaming.
The blood set me off .
He stopped. Our eyes locked, and adrenaline had me lunging forward, jumping on his back when he turned to bolt.
I don’t think so, motherfucker.
He didn’t get to saunter in here, hack up my friend, and then dip.
My brain momentarily forgot he had a weapon. All I could think was I had to stop him. He hurt someone I loved, and he needed to pay.
I latched on to him like a damn monkey, my arms wrapping around his neck. People in the street were starting to take notice but not completely understanding what happened. Now that I was essentially piggybacking on this asshole, I didn’t know what to do next. I tightened my arms as much as I could, wanting to choke him.
Someone screamed at him.
He must have felt the pressure.
Surging backward, he rammed into a brick wall, his hat falling off his head. The impact knocked the breath out of me, jarring my hold. I hit the pavement, pain radiating through my tailbone and along my spine, but it had to be nothing compared to what Frankie must be feeling.
Holy shit. Frankie.
Someone screamed.
Not Frankie. She was collapsed on the ground, clutching her stomach, and her once beautiful, slim, ivory fingers were stained red.
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
It took my body several moments to catch up with my mind, to process what happened. “Frankie, shit, shit, shit.” I scrambled to her side, falling to my knees, my pains minuscule to hers. I stared at her body, unsure what to do, if I should touch her. Blood made my mind go blank when I needed to be fast thinking.
“Put pressure on her wound,” someone said.
Right. I needed to stop the flow of blood, but there were so many puncture wounds. Crimson soaked the whole lower half of her shirt, and of course, she had to wear white.
Fuck it.
Whipping off my shirt, I lay the material over her lower half, using both hands to span her stomach and apply pressure. Oh god. This was bad. So bad.
I closed my eyes, unable to look at her and see the suffering in her eyes, but as her friend, she needed me to be strong. I pried my eyes open, staring into Frankie’s blanched face. “You’re going to be okay,” I said, and I didn’t know if it was more her or me, but I needed her to be fine.
I couldn’t think of the alternative.
It didn’t take long for the warmth of blood to seep through the added shirt, coating my fingers as I continued to keep pressure on her stomach. Fear of hurting her more trembled up my arms, but I knew I had no choice. She’d already lost too much blood. She couldn’t afford to lose more.
The asshole was long gone, leaving me to hold my bleeding friend on the ground, waiting for help to arrive.
Each agonizing second felt like minutes before the flashing red lights whirled down the street. The sirens had to be going off, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sheer fear that clawed within me. My head swarmed with a buzzing like a hornet’s nest caught in my hair, but relief that help finally arrived loosened a bit of the tightness digging into my chest. Someone more qualified than me could take over and give Frankie the care she required.
The paramedics were quick as they worked, and I stumbled, backing out of the way. I sagged against the building, unable to take my eyes off my shaking, stained fingers. A lady put her hand on my shoulder, asking me if I was okay, but I could barely hear her voice. I managed to nod.
Frankie was wheeled into the ambulance, and I climbed in after her. I wouldn’t leave her side.
“Remind me never to impersonate you again,” Frankie whispered, pain changing the pitch of her voice as she closed her eyes.
She meant it as a joke, and it was just like Frankie to make light of a serious situation, but guilt riddled me. This was my fault. It had been me the attacker wanted to hurt. Frankie protected me as she always did. “Shh,” I hushed. “Don’t talk. You’re going to be okay.” I refused to let her leave me alone in this world.
As the emergency vehicle sped off toward the hospital, the paramedics gave her oxygen and administered an IV. I held her hand the entire time they worked on her in the ambulance, stopping the flow of blood from her multiple wounds and doing their best to stabilize her. T he sirens blared as the truck raced down the street. I couldn’t see where we were, but I felt the speed.
Her face had gone so damn pale, a feat considering she was so fair skinned to begin with. Brushing a kiss to her temple, I felt her trembling under my lips. Shock? Drugs? Cold? All the above most likely.
“I’m not going to let you die on me,” I whispered. “I need you, Frankie.”