Hold on to Hope

Filled with awe and untapped potential.

The reason we could recognize hope all over again after we’d thought we lost it.

And then Frankie went and appeared in the doorway, coming up short the second she saw us standing there.

A flashfire of energy dumped on the clutter.

This girl the cause of the pandemonium going down in my chest.

Clutching and pulsing and demanding.

Everything fucking ached for her.

Heart and body and mind.

This girl my picture of perfection.

Wild hair barely tamed in this messy twist on the top of her head, brown, frizzy curls getting loose, eyes wide and full of the same disarray of confusion and need and questions she’d watched me with Saturday night.

If I was being honest, she looked a little feral.

So what if I wanted to fucking pet her again.

Mom scooped Everett into her arms. Her attention darted between me and Frankie Leigh before she murmured to Everett something about eggs.

Figured she was talking food again but I was too wrapped in watching Frankie to get the full gist of it.

Mom rounded the counter and went for the heating station where there were a variety of breakfast sandwiches that were prepared each morning so people had a healthier option than a pound of sugar.

“Hi,” Frankie mumbled, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, like she didn’t know whether to step out and act like nothing had gone down between us Saturday night or tuck tail and slip back through the door.

Pretend like this wasn’t happening.

“Hey,” I told her, letting the hint of a smirk ride up at one corner of my mouth.

She shook her head a little, half amused and half annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to . . . check in,” I settled on.

See you.

Talk to you.

Remind you again that we belong together.

So yeah. I’d been worried about her yesterday. Especially considering the last thing I’d told her was that I was in love with her and then she’d split. The four of them had packed up and left before anyone had even woken up Sunday morning. Apparently, Frankie had told her mom that Carly wasn’t feeling well.

Except I’d had a pretty good idea where the illness was coming from. Frankie filled with the fear that I was going to hurt her again.

Wasn’t going to stop until she understood that wasn’t going to happen.

Part of me expected her to do it again—run, turn her back on me like I deserved for her to do. Instead, Frankie’s expression turned soft, the girl glancing between me and Everett and back again.

“How is he today?”

God, didn’t know if I could handle her extending her care to Everett. Had nearly come apart when I’d come up from the lake on Saturday to find her with my son in her arms.

That feeling that had taken hold.

I tried to clear the roughness from my throat. “He’s great, Frankie. Wonderful.”

So maybe I couldn’t help but express to her a little the way he made me feel. The same way she did. Whole. Complete. Like there really was something worth living for. Fighting for.

I’d been a fool to let it go.

Wasn’t going to repeat that same mistake again.

Her teeth were back to roughing up that bottom lip. “He is, isn’t he?”

Emotion pressed between us. A circuit sparking. Awareness coming to life.

I peered over to where Mom was situating Everett at the tiny table that she’d set up for me and Frankie behind the far end of the counter all those years ago, where we’d share our after-school snacks and laugh and color and draw up our dreams.

Mom had broken up little bits of egg, sausage, and biscuit, and Everett was trying to pinch the pieces between his fingers and get them into his mouth.

All of it appeared so simple.

So right.

Still so fucking terrifying because I didn’t know how long I was going to get to keep my son in my life this way. If things were going to shift and get shaken or if this fucking threat was real.

If I was going to lose all over again.

All I knew was I was going to fight, and I wanted to do it with Frankie at my side.

Friends or as a lover or whatever it had to be.

I just . . . needed her.

Needed her in my life.

Was tired of breathing without her.

Everything was better with a little Frankie Leigh.

“Mom?”

Mom looked back over her shoulder. “You mind keeping an eye on him for a second? Need to talk to Frankie.”

Her eyes flitted between the two of us.

I wondered how much she knew. If it was plain as day to everyone else as it was to me. That this was just meant to be. “Sure. Of course.”

Frankie frowned in worry, hesitating, then said, “I’ll be right back. Let me know if you guys get busy.”

I followed Frankie through the door and into the kitchen.