“What?” she asked, concerned. “Are you hurting?”
I was always hurting.
But I didn’t want her to know that.
Instead, I chose to tell her the more truthful of the hurts, just to get her attention off the pain I was constantly in.
“I don’t like being called Malachi,” I found myself telling my best friend’s woman.
Frankie looked over at me, her face a mask of pain that she didn’t manage to hide in time, and stared.
“You don’t like to be called Malachi?” She sounded confused.
Cute and sweet.
I wanted to pull her into my arms.
But, of course, I didn’t.
Because that would be wrong.
Right?
She was my best friend’s woman.
My best friend’s fiancée.
My best friend, who was no longer here.
I didn’t remember much of my time in captivity.
In fact, I barely remembered anything other than the smell—and even then it was only when a certain smell hit—a rotting animal that’d been run over on the side of the road.
“No, not really,” I admitted. “Malachi just seems… wrong.”
She looked like she understood.
“You really don’t remember anything?” she asked, looking sick to her stomach.
I wanted to wipe that look from existence.
Seeing her in pain was really doing something funky to my heart.
“No,” I croaked, absently reaching up to touch my face. The ridges of the scars seemed to help focus me. “Not a single thing.”
She looked like she deflated, as if some hope she’d been secretly holding onto had faded.
“What do you want to be called then?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
And I didn’t.
“Your middle name?” she suggested. “Does that sound better?”
I thought about that.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Being called Gabriel will be weird.”
She flinched.
Frankie didn’t contradict that statement because she knew I was right.
Gabriel was Luca’s name.
I’d never gone by Gabriel, at least not according to all the people that knew me.
I was either Malachi or Stokes.
My full name, Malachi Gabriel Stokes, didn’t seem right to me.
Then again, nothing really did these days.
“How about Riel?” she asked, pronouncing ‘ree-ell’ slowly. “Not Malachi. Not fully Gabriel.”
I found that I liked that one, especially since she’d been the one to call me it.
“I… that’ll work.” I shifted and felt pain ripple up my side.
She took in my expression, then let her face drift down to my left side.
“Did you just get off shift?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Did you enjoy it?” she wondered.
I shrugged. “It’s a job.”
Her mouth twitched.
“I asked Luca once what he wanted to do after he got out of the Navy,” she whispered. “And he told me that when he got out, he’d probably work with his dad. When I suggested being a police officer, he told me that it sounded boring.”
I found myself smiling.
“That’s funny,” I admitted. “And the job isn’t boring per se. More too structured, if that makes any sense. But, riding around on a motorcycle all day is kind of fun. I wished that I didn’t have to be wearing the uniform I’m wearing, though.”
She started to laugh softly.
Still, despite the laugh, she had a whole lot of pain behind those eyes.
Pain that was tearing her apart from the inside out.
“Frankie?” Yao said, interrupting us.
I wanted to punch him in the face when I lost her eyes.
“Yes?” Frankie turned, her smile fading.
Hell, any and all life that had been put back into her had faded.
I fucking hated it.
“I’m going to investigate the incident,” he said, his eyes flicking up to me and then widening. “You new?”
I nodded once. “Yes, sir. Just started today.”
Yao took in my scars, didn’t make like he wasn’t.
I kind of liked that he owned it.
Most people would steal surreptitious glances at them every once in a while. Try to act like they weren’t staring.
Not Yao.
“Good to know,” he said. “Like it?”
I shrugged. “It was okay.”
Yao’s lips twitched. “First days usually are. If you’ll excuse me…”
I nodded once. “Nice to see you, Frankie.”
Frankie’s eyes went warm. “It was nice to see you, too.”
Then I had no other choice but to walk away.
But why the fuck did it feel like I was having my heart pulled out of my chest when I did?Chapter 2Back the fuck up, sprinkle tits. Today is not the day.
-Coffee Cup
Frankie
The next day as I got ready for work, I had the phone to my ear, and I was waiting for my father to pick up.
He did on the third ring.
Well, at least I thought it was him.
It wasn’t.
It was his wife, Cora.
Cora, who was also my missing fiancé’s sister.
“Hey, Frankie,” Cora said, sounding tired. “What’s going on? Are you okay? You don’t usually call this early.”
I smiled at her concern.
“I’m calling because I thought I’d tell Dad so he could tell you that I saw Malachi yesterday,” I said softly.
Cora hissed in a breath.
“I heard he was back.”
Cora hadn’t known Malachi as well as I had, but she had met him a few times here and there.