Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“Hi, you’ve reached Connie ? —"
“And Katie. Leave us a message and we’ll call you back.”
“Hi Katie, it’s me. Just checking in because you Irish goodbyed out of Fitz’s party.”
“Hi, you’ve reached Connie ? —"
“And Katie. Leave us a message and we’ll call you back.”
“Frank again. Are you there, listening to your messages? Please pick up.”
“Hi, you’ve reached Connie ? —"
“And Katie. Leave us a message and we’ll call you back.”
“If I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry. I left a note on your car and these messages and I’ll stop, but I just wanted to talk. Katie, please pick ? —”
“ H ey Frank, it’s Connie,” Katie’s sister said, interrupting his latest pathetic message on her answering machine. “She’s busy and can’t take your call.”
He sank back on his couch and ran his fingers through his hair hard enough that he didn’t need a mirror to know it was all sticking straight up. “Okay, what if I call back tomorrow?”
“She’ll be busy then, too,” Connie said, not unsympathetically.
“And probably any time I call.” He banged the back of his head against the wood frame of the couch he’d gotten in the second-hand shop. He barely heard Connie’s confirmation, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t known what was coming. “Okay. I get it. Damn. I really fucked this up. didn’t I Connie?”
Katie’s sister let out a weary sigh. “Look, I like you, but she’s my sister.”
“I get it. I’m the same way with Paul.” How many times had he saved his brother’s ass or diverted attention so his twin could do something they both knew was stupid? At least a million—and that was only since New Year’s. “You gotta always have your twin’s back, right?”
“Right,” she said.
He should hang up now. He knew that. But still, he couldn’t. If there was a chance, even one so small it could slide between the joints of a dovetail drawer, he had to take it.
“Tell her, if she changes her mind,” he said, trying and probably failing to keep the foolish hope out of his voice, “she knows where to find me.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Connie said, “Bye Frank.”
The line went dead before he had a chance to tell her goodbye, or thank you, or beg her for help. That was probably a blessing.
He settled the receiver onto the phone that was on the table by the couch, then slumped down lower on the cushions. He’d fucked it up. He’d had one chance and he’d fucked it up.
“I don’t know who that was, but I’ve got a poker game going tonight, in the city,” his brother Paul hollered from the kitchen where he was raiding Frank’s fridge. “You want in? It might help you forget about her.”
Like that was even a possibility. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Your loss man,” Paul said, walking out into the living room with a PB&J and bag of Lays chips and heading toward the door.
“Be careful over there,” Frank said, unable to stop himself. “Don’t get in too deep.”
Paul paused halfway through the open door and grinned at Frank. “Careful is my middle name.”
If that were true, his brother wouldn’t need to be constantly bailed out. But tonight, that would be someone else’s job. Frank was going to sit on his couch and watch The Greatest American Hero followed by The Fall Guy while getting good and drunk. Tomorrow, he’d get up and go to the firehouse where he’d pick up enough shifts that he’d be too fucking tired to think about Katie Madigan and what could have been.