Chapter 18 #2
I can’t help it, I laugh. Dad joins me. Pulling back, he holds his hands around my face, “Real happy for you, baby girl.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He straightens, and moves past me, bending down he gives a kiss to Roxy. He lets her know he will be outside enjoying an evening beer with his latest kid. I turn fully toward Roxy and we both listen to the sliding glass open and close.
“I’m in love with Frankie,” the words just tumble out.
She nods. “Seems like you are just realizing that. You okay?”
I shake my head.
“You scared?”
I nod.
She moves around to where I am, her hand wrapping around my wrist, her words soft, “He loves you. Maybe he hasn’t said it yet, but he does. And when he does say it, it doesn’t mean he’s leaving.
“That boy isn’t going to leave you. That boy is going to challenge the fuck out of you, and some days you are going to hate him, but he won’t leave. And he sure as fuck won’t let you leave either. Which for you… that’s a good thing.” She gives a warm laugh and shakes her head. “Forks.”
We collect forks and sack out on the couch as all my worries swirl. I’ve had people tell me they loved me before. That’s when I usually run. Well, that’s when I started to run because Bobby told me he loved me. Then he cheated on me. Then he left me facing the school alone. Then…
Roxy takes the cake from my hands, setting it on the coffee table, she pulls me into her holding me tight. “Frank isn’t going to leave you. He isn’t going to hurt you. You are all there is for him. I promise.”
My body begins to shake. Her arms tighten on me. “Harlow, Frank is never going to hurt you on purpose. Frank isn’t going to harm you. Frank is going to stand by you. I bet that boy’s ghost would hang around if he went first. He is never going to leave you.”
I pull back, the burning in my eyes intense.
Her hands softly stroke at my cheeks. “I love you. Your dad loves you. Your brother loves you. None of us are going anywhere. We don’t love you because we have to.
We love you because you are so fucking easy to love.
Frank sees you the same way. Trust him to not leave you.
He isn’t like anyone from before, baby girl. ”
“I know. I do,” I whisper.
She gives me the softest smile. “I know you do, but sometimes we just need little reminders. Especially when the consequences of the past have been more than anyone should suffer.”
“You are really good with me and him?” I don’t know why I need to hear it, it’s obvious she likes this, but I need to hear it.
Roxy’s eyes hold so much warmth, her cheeks rise with her big, beautiful smile, her fingers dance gently along my cheeks and hairline as she lovingly holds me.
“Your dad loves him for you because it is clear he makes you happy. But that’s not why I love him for you.
I love him for you because I can see that he is capable of meeting every single one of your needs.
He is capable of withstanding your sharp edges”—her head shakes—“no, capable is wrong…
he… he wants to fill every need, he wants to embrace your sharp edges.
“Baby girl, he wants everything you have to offer, and he won’t settle for anything less than every single little piece of you, even the dark parts you push into the shadows to hide.
Even the ones you try to hide from yourself because they hurt too much to face.
He won’t let you face them alone, and sometimes just not doing something terrifying and painful alone makes it a little easier to do. ”
Clearing my throat a little, relieved the burning at my eyes has receded, I smile, and genuinely mean the smile. “Cake.”
Roxy laughs. We pull our cake onto our laps, and I tell Rox about Frankie’s house and how Ron Ron is in love with the window and how we started calling it his television and then Frankie describing it as his programs. She laughs and we stuff our faces with the yummiest cake. My heart feels a little lighter.
Frankie and I get back in the car, a huge chunk of cake in my lap, quietly listening to music on the drive.
My eyes keep drifting to him. He smiles and looks over at me every chance he can.
When we get home, Ronny-boy is so happy we are home and Frankie lifts him up into his arms cooing to him as I put my cake in the fridge.
Turning to him, I ask, “Frank?”
“Yeah?”
Shaking my head. “No, I mean… is it, Frank? Franklin? Francis?”
“Ah. It’s Franco. Mom’s grandfather’s name. She was raised by her grandparents. When she had me, she named me after the man she considered her father. It’s German and means free.” His head tilts watching me.
“Free. I like that. I like Franco, though I think I am more used to it as a surname. But I like it. I like calling you Frankie,” I trail it to a whisper at the end, feeling really jumbled inside again.
“I like you calling me Frankie.” He steps toward me, setting Ron Ron on the floor, and getting even closer.
I look up at him, biting down on my lip, my hands shake.
“Things seemed to get pretty intense in there earlier with Roxy. Want to tell me about it?” he keeps is voice real low.
I do a shaking nod, with a shrug, and it completely represents how I feel, yes and no, and I don’t know.