Chapter 13
FRANKIE
I sit tenderly in the saddle as I guide Ytse in a slow walk back to the Abbott compound. My mind and emotions are in a tumble after leaving Dante, but I still have enough clarity to recognize screaming when I hear it. It sounds like a woman, or a young girl.
Livvie?
Adrenaline rushing through me, I spur Ytse to a gallop.
We’ve just crossed over the property line when the noise of a diesel truck and lots of shouting reach my ears.
Something’s going on at the house. As I get closer, my fears are confirmed.
I clearly recognize my little sister’s voice. She’s crying, pleading with someone.
My heart lurches to my throat as I squeeze Ytse’s sides even tighter with my calves. Comprehending right away, he picks up his pace, clearing the ground in long strides. I’m gripping the reins so tightly now, my fingers are going numb.
We crest the ridge behind the stables just in time to see a few rough-looking men loading what’s left of the Abbott Friesian stock onto a huge horse trailer.
Scanning for Livvie, I see her cornered against the outside wall of the building.
She’s beside herself, screaming, tears streaming down her face as she’s held back by a burly guy who doesn’t seem to care that her entire world is coming apart. I’m going to be sick.
What the fuck is going on?
This has to be Dad’s fault. It always is.
I nudge Ytse down the ridge, kicking up gravel as we make our way toward Livvie. I realize my mistake all too late as one of the men points at me.
“That’s the missing one!” he calls to the others as he jogs over, his beefy hand taking hold of Ytse’s bridle. “We got ‘em all now.”
Before I know it, I’m pulled off my horse, my struggling and protests no match for the man who has his hands on me.
Rage has my pulse rushing in my ears, my skin itching all over.
It takes all my willpower to stop myself from fighting back, kicking and screaming.
But I don’t want anything to happen to my sister, so I hold still, breathing hard, and wait it out.
There’s nothing I can do but watch as they roughly remove Ytse’s bridle and saddle before shoving a halter over his head and leading him into the trailer, alongside the leggy four-year-old that Livvie’s been training for dressage.
“Not Max! Please, please leave me Max!” Livvie begs. Her desperate, agonized voice ripping my heart to shreds. “Please, just one!”
The men are unmoved.
I’m dying to go to my baby sister, try to comfort her in some way, but the beasts won’t let go of us.
There’s nothing we can do but watch, helpless, as the trailer’s metal doors are slammed shut and latched with a clank.
One of the men heads back to the idling truck and climbs into the cab, motioning to the others.
“Time to move out!” he shouts. “Let’s go!”
With that, Livvie and I are finally released. My sister sinks to the ground in a heap and buries her face in her hands, sobbing as if someone has just ripped out her soul. I run over to her and fall to my knees, wrapping my arms around her and holding her as tight as I can.
I feel strangely numb, a faint buzzing overriding all of my senses as Livvie’s tears soak through my shirt.
As the truck pulls the horse trailer down the drive, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake, Livvie pulls away and wipes her eyes with her forearm. I help her stand but keep my arm around her as we watch the trailer disappear from view.
Yet another piece of our lives lost to our father’s obsessions.
“I hate him,” Livvie says, her voice resolute. “I hate him so much, Frankie. I swear to God, I never want to see him again.”
I have no words to comfort her with. There is literally nothing I can say or do that will fix this. I can’t believe Dad did this to her—she was the only one of us who hadn’t turned away from him. And for what? Another gambling debt? A bad card game? Payment for sleeping with some bookie’s wife?
We collect a few of Livvie’s things from inside the house—photos, some clothes, the few pieces of modest jewelry that Charlie and I have gifted her over the years—and pack them into Charlie’s car.
Conveniently, Dad doesn’t show up the entire time.
He’s so sadistic that I’m honestly a little surprised he wasn’t here to watch his youngest daughter’s agony as he took away the only thing that mattered to her.
Both of us are silent as I drive us back to Nob Hill, but I hold her hand the whole way.
I texted Charlie before we left to let her know what happened, and she’s waiting for us at the front door when we arrive.
I notice that her eyes are rimmed in red as she pulls Livvie into a hug, nodding when I tell her I’m bringing Livvie’s things up to the guest room.
Charlie and I spend a few hours helping Livvie unpack. We’ve agreed that it’s best for her to live permanently at Charlie’s place, even though the commute to school will be killer.
“I’m sorry. I just really can’t go back there,” Livvie says, her chin trembling.
“Don’t be sorry,” I tell her soothingly. “Charlie and I can take turns with the driving.”
Charlie nods. “It’s no big deal.”
Livvie swipes at her eyes. “He’s a monster. I don’t want to spend one more night under the same roof as him. Not that he was home most nights anyway.”
I look over at Charlie, who shoots me a worried look.
Dad’s obviously still drinking and gambling, which means he’s also racking up new debts left and right.
We need to find a way to stop him. He’s already lost everything, but Livvie herself is still a commodity, and there’s no way in hell we’re letting him sell her off, too.
We make mac and cheese—Livvie’s favorite, though she barely touches hers—and binge episodes of Gossip Girl in the living room until Livvie tells us she wants to go to bed.
I watch her climb the stairs, sadness wafting off her like perfume, and can’t help noticing how much older my baby sister seems all of a sudden.
Charlie taps me on the shoulder and tilts her head toward the kitchen.
“Come on. Dessert.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not—”
“We’re drinking it,” she clarifies. “I have an excellent red.”
“Oh. Well, in that case.”
We end up sitting on the kitchen floor with our legs crossed, leaning against the lower cabinets and passing a bottle of wine back and forth. She’s right. It is an excellent red.
“So,” Charlie says. “What happens next?”
I take a long swig of the wine and pass it back. “Maybe I do sell the winery. Cash out our entire family history and, you know, write off six generations for a payout. A chance at a future…but then Rico will get half of it. Fucking Rico.”
“Fucking Rico,” Charlie agrees. “I wish we knew what to do with that guy.”
I smile bitterly. “Oh, I have a few ideas. Not that any of them are legal.”
“Clayton’s line of work isn’t exactly legal,” Charlie reminds me. “Just say the word. I guarantee you he knows a guy.”
“I wish it were that simple.” I huff out a laugh, then go quiet. “I hate to say it, but Dante would know what to do.”
Sighing, I lean my head back against the cabinet. I can feel my sister’s eyes on me.
“He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?” She passes me the bottle, and I take another drink.
“I never knew I could hate someone and love someone so much at the same time,” I tell her. “But I feel like I ruined it before it even began, thanks to all this Rico bullshit.”
“Maybe,” Charlie says, holding her hand out for the wine. “Dante’s kind of an asshole, though. No offense.”
I have to laugh. “You’re not wrong. The thing is…I know it sounds hard to believe, but before Rico came out of the woodwork, it felt like Dante and I—we were becoming something real.”
“Oh?” My sister cocks a brow, watching me take a greedy drink from the bottle.
“Don’t get me wrong, Dante is an asshole,” I admit.
“A huge asshole. But…I don’t know. At first, all we did was butt heads.
But at some point, I realized that we both seemed to enjoy the…
challenge of each other. And then the work I did for the winery—it earned me his respect, too.
Because even though I had to fight him every step of the way, I was good at the job. ”
“You were great at the job,” Charlie points out.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I proved myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have had to, but I did. And it made Dante trust me. As for the physical stuff…we’re compatible in that way also.”
Charlie giggles. I don’t elaborate. My cheeks are hot enough, and not just from the wine.
“Anyway,” I go on. “The point is, when I married him, I went into it thinking I was just doing what I had to do. Going through the motions. And now…everything’s different. I had no idea what he would become to me. What we would become.”
Charlie nods. “At least you knew who he was when you married him. There wasn’t any love clouding your vision.
I married Clayton because of love. I mean, I don’t regret it, but…
” She looks down at the bottle in her hands, giving it a swirl.
“It’s really hard not knowing where he is when he disappears for days and weeks on end.
And it’s even harder not knowing if he’s going to come back.
Trusting that he isn’t doing something terrible. Knowing he probably is.”
“I get it. I do.” I’ve had the same thoughts about Dante.
“He says he’s never killed anyone, but…” She trails off, her eyes clouding with some distant memory. But then she snaps to and takes another drink. “I love him anyway. He could probably kill a hundred people and I think I’d still love him. Can you believe it? What the hell does that say about me?”
“I’m sure Dante’s ordered his fair share of hits,” I tell her. “It comes with the territory. Doesn’t change how I feel about him, though.”
“Dad really screwed us up, didn’t he?”
“That he did.”
Charlie laughs, and I join in. I feel like we’ve never been more connected.
She salutes me with the wine. “To shady men, and the women who love them.”
Then she takes a swig and passes it to me.
I hold the bottle up in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”