2. — run it out. #3
Cobblestone pathways weaved throughout flower gardens that Sissy had taken to maintaining alongside the landscaper hired by her father.
A few paths veered off into tree-covered canopies that gave the sense of more privacy.
Various sitting areas allowed someone perusing the property to take a rest if needed in private sunrooms, under gazeboes with firepits, or on stone benches that faced small fishponds.
Someone else might get scared the darker it became with cloud cover hiding stars, and few lights on the property the further away from the main house that a person traveled.
Not Frankie. The twelve-foot stone fence that encompassed the entire estate, including a guest home at the rear of the property, and the cameras and security meant no one would get in.
Sometimes she wondered how much of their wealth got tied up in ensuring the safety of their lives, but it probably didn’t add up to a single drop in the bucket.
She rarely noticed the cameras or patrolling men, now. Once in a blue moon, Larkin, the man heading it all, visited Sal’s study.
Frankie didn’t run the back property to think about all that shit, though.
She didn’t run it out to admire the time and work that went into the property she called home.
She ran until her legs burned, lungs ached with panted breaths, and her stomach started to roll from every slam of her running shoes into the ground.
She ran so that she didn’t have to think about it because the only thing on her mind became the mantra of another lap; just one more lap even when it hurt.
It was hard to think about the kinds of things that caused emotional pain when the physical overtook it all and purged what she couldn’t. Her father didn’t like that she did it.
All of five-foot-four-inches, and a hundred-fifteen pounds soaking wet, she didn’t need the exercise.
She could easily run ten miles on the soccer field and then come home, scream it out with Sal or Carina about something or other, and double her distance before exhaustion found her sleeping somewhere other than her bed.
Her dad had a right to be concerned but he just didn’t get it. She could control the running, the anger...and all the rest. It felt like winning something even if her body paid the price when she finished. Lucky for her, in an ironically sad way, he wasn’t there to prevent the inevitable.
She ran until she puked. Nothing new to see here.
Everything swinging like a wrecking ball inside of Frankie came to a head at the farthest end of the property.
A few feet away from the stone wall that separated the rear of the estate from the guest side, the cookies and cream didn’t taste nearly the same coming back out as it had going in.
Maybe that was part of the punishment she forced upon herself, too.
The last bit of vomit fell to the ground, and she kept an unsteady hand on her bent knee while using the other to wipe away what remained of the proof as to what she’d done yet again.
It took a bit longer before she could stumble the few steps needed to reach the nearby water hose set up along the pathway leading to the gate doors made of thick wood, and just as high as the stone fence, separating the rear of the guest property.
Frankie made quick work of washing away the evidence of her sins on the grass. The last bits of vomit and saliva disappeared into the darkness as an unfamiliar voice resounded from somewhere up above.
“Jesus Christ, are you okay?”
She spun around so fast, the surroundings blurred even after she’d come to a stop. Aiming the nozzle of the water hose in the direction of the new voice, it took her a moment to discern the sardonic chuckle coming from the figure overhead.
There he sat, back against a pillar, legs stretched out across the top of the stone fence, ankles hooked. A lit cigarette played between two fingers, and he flicked the ash in her direction, unbothered.
Not even the lack of light from the settling night sky could hide those green eyes of his driving hard into her down below. Occasionally, she could see those eyes in her dreams, and the rest that had been left unsaid between them haunted her.
“What the fuck do you think that’s going to do?” he asked, nodding at the nozzle.
This wasn’t real. It didn’t feel real.
The buzzing sensation racing over Frankie’s skin only added to the rapid pulse in her veins and the hard pants of breath she couldn’t seem to catch.
“It’s Francesca, right?” he asked.
“Frankie,” she corrected automatically. “I’m only Francesca when somebody’s yelling usually.”
He chuckled at the comment.
“Frankie, right.” He pointed at the next pillar of stone along the fence line, and she followed the gesture to find Stella perched like a stone angel.
The cat reached over a meter high when she stood up on her hind legs and stretched.
In that moment, the white cat simply eyed the newcomer with a fluffy tail that flicked back and forth as if she found prey. “Is that yours?”
“Yeah. Stella.”
“Didn’t know cats got that big.”
Frankie went about returning the hose and nozzle, explaining while she did, “She’s a Maine Coon. Some are bigger.”
“I bet she keeps down the pests,” he muttered, his attention flicking between the cat and her.
“All kinds.”
Nico nodded and took another drag off his cigarette. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“She doesn’t like anyone. It’s part of her deal. You earn the right to pet her.”
“Ah, I get it. Standard female behavior.”
Nine years had only served to harden and age Nico Russo’s features into that of a devastatingly handsome young man.
How old was he now—nineteen? Could that be considered a man?
He sure looked like one in black jeans and a black cotton tee.
Dark, dishevelled hair fell over his eyes as he tipped his head to the side like he was staring even harder at her. Searching for something.
What could he see?
“So, are you good?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
He all but spelled it out with the slow tone and a gaze locked on the wet grass from before.
Frankie swallowed hard knowing he saw her little secret. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Nico sneered at the question. As silent and still as he’d been up there on the stone wall, it all changed in an instant. He jumped down without hesitation, landing solidly on two feet which brought him the few strides between them in a breath.
“What did you just say to me?”
Frankie made herself stay put, even though he was close enough for the slight breeze to bring his crisp, fresh scent right to her. “Why are you here? Maybe that’s a better question.”
Something burned in Nico that she didn’t recognize.
The two didn’t get to be friends. She barely saw him in passing as he made his way through high school.
Her father made it his personal mission to keep Frankie as separated from his boss’s family as he could whenever possible.
Seeing him here without any warning was a big change of pace.
“Why am I here? Ask Salvatore.”
Her father?
“I’d get better answers from Stella.”
Nico almost grinned, but his face pulled with sarcasm and an edge that stung from two feet away.
“I’m fucking great, thanks for asking. They took my phone, my cars, locked me into a house that isn’t my own, and told me I couldn’t leave.
I can’t see my baby sister, my father refuses to speak to me, and I have no access to my accounts anymore. How’s life going for you, doll?”
He punctuated the question by gazing beyond her and swinging an arm wide at the large expanse of property stretching behind her.
Ouch.
“Then again,” Nico added, not even missing a beat, “you did just run yourself sick, so that says something, huh?”
She knew better than to ask what he meant. He already proven himself to be mean, and shit, it sounded like he had every reason to be. Just their history gave him enough of one. What came after sounded like an even bigger pile of garbage to deal with.
Frankie still asked, “And what does it say?”
Nico, a half-foot taller than her five and a half feet, stepped closer until she could see the flecks of gold in his green irises when he pointed with the two fingers still holding the cigarette, and said, “Something’s not right inside of you, either.”
“Hey! Get away from her right now! You know the rules!”
Frankie hadn’t heard the approach of security.
“We just went over this less than two hours ago,” Larkin kept shouting the closer he approached, his combat boots tearing up grass on the way. “You’re not gonna pull the type of crap on me that you’ve been trying with everyone else. You know the rules!”
Nico’s curious attention didn’t leave Frankie as he said, “Yeah, yeah. I know the rules.”
It didn’t sound like he cared about them, though. Not one bit.