Winning You (Words We Never Said #7)

Prologue

FRANKIE: FOUR YEARS PRIOR

The one thing Frankie hated more than anything was the inside of a hospital. It was something about the sterile-white and starchy sheets and the recirculated air with absolutely no humidity at all that left the insides of his sinuses burning.

He’d spent a lot of time in hospitals.

Both of his parents were unfit caregivers.

They were fifteen when he was born. His dad turned into an alcoholic with no desire to get better.

His mom was on pills, which had happened because she was using opiates to cope with her husband’s slow slide into addiction.

Those mixed together led to a lot of incidents of fists flying and screaming and blood and ambulances.

When he turned eleven, his mom had another baby. When he turned thirteen, she had the last—or what he assumed was going to be the last. He could only hope, anyway, because within days of bringing home a screaming, shitting, starving baby, he was doing all the work.

Ten years later, police and CPS got involved, and he held the weight of his siblings’ well-being on his shoulders. He was twenty-four when he was given permanent custody of Fenton and Fallon. He was twenty-six when he had to navigate the ins and outs of a young trans boy who was ready to come out.

And raising two teenage boys also meant the occasional broken bone or fistfight because the kids at school knew that the boys came from a broken home. Fenton had a temper, and Fallon was an easy target.

He was happy to never, ever set foot in a hospital again. But then he’d gotten the call he’d been dreading when his mom went MIA on them. Almost twelve years had gone by, and he was starting to think maybe he wasn’t ever going to hear from her again.

“Mr. Montez, I’m really sorry to bother you,” the woman started. He very much doubted she was sorry at all. They never were. He sat back at his desk and stared blankly at his computer screen. “We’re trying to reach the closest relative of Anika Paisley.”

Right. His mom had dropped her married name once the divorce was final. He’d almost forgotten.

“Is she dead?” There was little inflection in his voice. He’d been waiting for that call too.

“No, fortunately not. Unfortunately,” the woman emphasized, “she’s currently awaiting trial on charges of child endangerment and neglect.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. It obviously wasn’t Fenton or Fallon, so his mother had gone and done it again. A new child. A sibling he’d never met. “Which child is this?”

“We have her records currently listed as Elodie Paisley. She’s currently six weeks old.”

Fuck. Six weeks old? Anika was fifty-two. How the fuck was his mother even able to bear children anymore?

“Alright,” he said slowly.

“We are aware that you were given full guardianship of your brothers while they were both minors—”

“They’re not now. They’re grown men.”

“Ah. Yes. The reason I’m calling—”

“I know why you’re calling.” She wanted Frankie to do this. She wanted him to upend his life again to take care of another one of his mother’s mistakes. It felt cruel to call a newborn baby a mistake, but what other words were there in this situation? “Where is the father?”

“There’s none listed on the birth certificate,” she said quietly.

Passing a hand down his face, Frankie let a silent groan into his palm. “Where is she?”

“Your mother?”

“The baby.”

“Ah. At St. Vincent’s.”

Fucking hell. She was in town? St. Vincent’s was five miles from his house.

He glanced over at his office door and thought about all the plans he had for the night.

He was going to get off early and swing by the store to make dinner.

Eddie had been working late hours all week, and the couple hadn’t gotten a night to themselves in… fuck. Months, maybe?

They’d only been married for half a year, and things felt tense. Like they were hanging on by a thread. Frankie’s new job as the city health inspector was weighing heavily on him. The hate he got everywhere he went took a toll. And Eddie used any excuse to not be home.

This was going to fuck everything up.

“I can be there around five,” he said. He would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t at least see this child. “I don’t know if I have the resources to take care of a baby.”

“I understand. She’s medically complicated as well, so there would be assistance if you needed it.”

“Medically complicated? What does that mean?” Something hot and heavy settled in his chest.

“I don’t have all the information here with me, I’m afraid,” the woman said. “I’m sure they can give you more details at the hospital. I’ll have one of my agents there to take care of paperwork if you choose to take guardianship of her.”

Her. Elodie. His baby sister.

“I need to go. Um. Thanks for the call, I guess?” Hanging up, he tossed his phone onto the desk and stood up, pacing the room. Fuck, this was not happening.

Proposing to Eddie, getting married after five years of living entirely separate lives, had been a whim. It had been a fear that with the shift in politics, they might lose the chance. Frankie didn’t want that. He had come to Eddie asking as a sort of business proposal.

Think of the taxes. Think of the benefits. Think of the protections we might need as we get older.

Eddie was a logical man. He saw reason. But he was less than thrilled with the amount of time Frankie’s brothers spent coming in and out of his house. He didn’t think Eddie was going to take to having a goddamn baby around. Especially a medically complicated one. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Turning back toward his desk, Frankie picked up his phone again. His thumb hovered over Eddie’s contact, then went lower. He wasn’t going to bother Fallon with this. The last thing he needed was one of Frankie’s crises while he was in the middle of finals week.

Fenton wouldn’t love him either for dumping this on him, but he had the most free time. He answered on the third ring. “Does this have to do with the random missed call I got from CPS?” he said by way of answering.

Frankie sighed. “It’s Mom.”

“Fuck off.”

“The baby’s six weeks. She’s in the hospital.”

“A sister,” he said quietly. “Jesus Christ. Have you seen her?”

“I’m going over there in a few minutes. They want me to take custody.”

“I can grab Fallon and meet you if you want me to—”

“No.” Frankie shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “No. God, this is going to fuck everything up.”

“Eddie’s not going to be happy. He can barely tolerate me, and he won’t even look at Fallon.”

Frankie felt a wave of irritation rush through his gut. In truth, he knew damn well that his husband’s reaction to his brothers was probably going to spell the end of their marriage sooner or later. No one, not a single person on Earth, was more important than Fenton and Fallon.

“Her name is Elodie,” he said suddenly.

“She abandoned the Fs?”

Frankie chuckled, the sound hoarse. “Looks like it. Anyway, I’ll call you if I need you, but don’t worry about this shit, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Frankie knew that tone. That was the tone his brother used when he planned to ignore every single thing he said. He’d used it a lot when he was younger. A bit less now that he was grown up and out of college.

He hung up without a real goodbye, then shot a text to Eddie before heading out to his car. The drive to the hospital was long and slow, mostly on autopilot. He pulled into one of the visitor spots, then made his way in before realizing he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

He assumed the pediatric ED since she’d been brought in after his mom was arrested. But maybe they’d admitted her.

He went to the information desk instead and smiled at the woman who gave him a flat, unamused stare.

“Uh, hey. So, I got a call from, um…” He glanced to his right, then to his left.

“CPS. My—” It felt weird to call her a little sister.

He didn’t even know her, and hell, he was almost forty.

“My mother was sent to jail, and my little sister was admitted. She’s six weeks. Elodie Paisley.”

The woman typed for a bit on the computer, then looked at him with narrow eyes. “ID.”

It was a demand, not a request. He fumbled with his wallet, willing his hands not to shake, though that was impossible. But he managed to draw the card out eventually, sliding it over to her. She stared at it like it was written in ancient Phoenician before pushing it back toward him.

“Wear this at all times.” She pulled out a large book filled with bright red stickers that said VISITOR on the front. She scribbled his name, then tore it off and gestured for him to take it. “Fifth floor, room five-fifteen. You can call at the double doors to be let in.”

“What unit is that?”

The woman rolled her eyes. Lovely. “The PICU.”

That sounded ominous as fuck.

He took a deep, steadying breath, then put the sticker on his shirt and headed for the elevator. By the time he reached the fifth floor, his legs were like jelly. He didn’t know what he was going to find. How bad was she? This six-week-old baby?

What had Anika done to her?

The nurse on the phone at the PICU double doors was kind as she let him in, and he was immediately met with a large nurse’s station.

The walls were white like the rest of the hospital, but there were zoo animals painted all along the corridors, and the lights weren’t as harshly white as everywhere else.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Frankie turned at the sound of a voice. It wasn’t the nurse he spoke to, so he turned his shirt so she could read his badge. “I’m here for Elodie Paisley.”

Her face did something complicated. “Of course. She’s just finished her evening bottle, actually, so she might be awake for a bit.”