Hold on to Hope

Pushing to standing, I tried to wrap my hands around hers. To stop this madness. To stop this girl from shouldering any more blame. “No, Frankie. You saved him. He needed you, and you did exactly what he needed you to do. That’s what parents do. They do the best that they can. This is my fault. The sorrow you’ve harbored. The child. The fact you were alone. My. Fault.”

Knew my voice was cracking. Begging this girl to see. To once and for all be the man she needed me to be.

“Please, let me hold the sorrow. It hurts so goddamn bad, Frankie, knowing what we created. That we lost it. That I wasn’t there to hold you through it. But I need you to know how badly we need you. Everett and I. Right now. Today. Forever. And I know you need us, too.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she stepped back, rejecting what I said. “I . . . I think I need to go, Evan. I need . . .”

She blinked like she didn’t know what that was.

Lost in the wreckage of what I’d done.

“Frankie.”

She put up a hand. “Please, Evan . . . I just . . . please.”

She started for the door.

“Frankie.” My voice stopped her when she was halfway out, her broken gaze meeting mine from over her shoulder. “I ran, Frankie, because I was scared. Because my life and who I was and the hardship of it felt like it was too much. I was wrong. I belong here. Just like you belong with us.”

Tears kept falling down her face, and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. “It hurts, Evan, and I’m scared I might love him too much.”

Then she slipped out. Taking the storm of energy with her.

Staring at the closed door, I realized it only took one mistake to change the trajectory of our lives.

One mistake to cause a fallout that would rain forever.

One mistake and the consequences were more than we could afford.

But sometimes . . . sometimes we received mercy for our sins.

Grace in our errors.

A blessing given in the middle of the curse.

She might be scared, but Frankie needed to see that Everett was ours.

He was our second chance.

Our vindication.

And the three of us, we belonged together.

Thirty-Three

Frankie Leigh

Night crawled along the ceiling where I lie sleepless in my old bed at Carly and Josiah’s. Swimming in a sea of anxiety. A vat of misery. Lying in a pool of sweaty, sticky suffering that made me feel like I was gonna drown.

I kicked my legs free of the covers, feeling like I was being incinerated.

Burned at the stake.

I tossed, and I tossed again, unable to get comfortable because I knew all the way deep down that this wasn’t where I belonged.

My sweet boy Milo wasn’t here.

Everett wasn’t here.

Evan wasn’t here.

This wasn’t my home, but I didn’t know how to return to it.

Didn’t know how to stand up. How to wade through the shame.

And I realized that was what it was.

Maybe I’d never gotten to the point where I’d fully allowed myself to feel it before. I’d been too worried about what the truth would do to Evan. Terrified that he would slip into a deep depression and blame himself.

Thing was, that meant I’d never allowed myself to process.

To accept.

To heal what was inside.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Logically, I knew that. Of course, I did. But once the scabs had been ripped from the old wounds, I’d felt it in a sudden rush.

Realized what I’d been harboring.

Shame.

There was a huge part of me that felt as if I’d failed as a mother. Failed that innocent girl who I was supposed to protect and give life.

If only I would have slept more or eaten differently or did something better, she might have had a chance.

If only I would have gone in earlier.

Sought help rather than hidden it away.

I’d felt it all over again this morning.

The feeling that I had failed so miserably that I really didn’t deserve the chance.

With it, came the stunning fear that had come in for a rebound.

The terror of losing it all over again.

What ifs slamming me as I’d replayed it over and over.

Me in that kitchen dicing up those strawberries without a care in the world because I’d felt so utterly blissed out this morning.

No thought given that I might be harmin’ him. That beautiful, sweet boy who had been given into my care who I’d come to love with all my soul.

Like his little life had found a way to beat inside of me.

God.

Losing him?

Shivers rolled across my flesh.

Sickness roiling. I couldn’t. I just . . . couldn’t. But on the same token, I didn’t think there was a chance I could stay away.

Grief curled and twisted and sucked me a little deeper into the dark, lapping waters I couldn’t get free of.