Hold on to Hope

Impossible.

No one had ever loved me the way Evan Bryant had.

And no one held the power to hurt me the way he could.

He’d left me when I’d needed him most.

Destroyed and decimated.

Still, I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch as he ducked into the backseat and pulled out what I was pretty sure was a diaper bag, and my heart was panging with horrible, horrible things.

Thoughts I couldn’t entertain.

He turned around. Awareness jolted through his body, and immediately his gaze landed on me.

Our eyes got tangled.

Tangled like the tendrils of our spirits that were thrashing wild.

Reaching for the other.

Hurt and desperation and need.

The bag slipped from his hold, hitting the ground at his feet with a thud, and he stood there, fisting those big hands.

Hands I couldn’t help but remember the way they’d felt against my skin.

There was nothing I could do but move.

Carried toward the desolation.

Just needing to feel him one more time.

To make sure he was whole and safe and real.

Feet numb below me, I fumbled over the loose gravel of my parents’ drive, not pausing when I floundered across the street.

My gaze raced over him like he might disappear, sight filling full of his chiseled jaw and his full lips and the distinct angle of his nose.

And I remembered and I remembered and I remembered . . .

But I was noticing all the differences, too.

His brow darker.

Everything a little harder.

His demeanor strong and stony and rife with a plea.

To me, he’d always been the most beautiful boy. Now the man was making my body ache in the most painful of ways.

Acute.

Piercing.

His presence this violence that wracked my insides.

He worked that jaw, his thick throat bobbing heavily.

And suddenly, I was dropping everything.

My pride and my fear and the questions and hurt that spun their wrath in the space that separated us.

Howling and whipping and screaming.

I braved it.

The distance.

The pain.

Every obstacle that stood in our way.

I ran through it.

Heart first.

Until I was throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his warm, strong body.

The feel of him intoxicating.

Dizzying.

I pressed my ear to his chest. Against the bang, bang, bang that thundered at his ribs.

Life. Life. Life.

He hesitated, his hands glued to his sides.

Could almost feel the years rise between us like a barrier.

“Frankie.” My name scraped from his throat. Raw and grating. It didn’t matter how badly he’d hurt me. I was sure his voice was the best song that had ever been written. “Frankie. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I pulled back, my hands against his chest when I signed frantically, telling him the one truth that still remained.

YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.

He heaved out a breath with the impact of my statement.

Then I tore myself away, stumbling as I wept, unable to look back as I ran for my car.

Wishing that loving him didn’t have to hurt so bad.

Four

Frankie Leigh

Five Years Old

Frankie heard the voices getting louder out on the back patio. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the unicorn toys she was playing with onto her bedroom floor.

“We gots ta go, Milo!” she shouted at her favorite, favorite puppy. Scrambling to his feet, he chased her right down the hall, nipping at her heels, barking his own excitement.

Frankie was grinning so big.

Today was a special day.

Such a good, good day and she couldn’t wait.

Her mama had told her she was gonna get a new special friend and she felt so, so, so excited, and her belly was full of butterflies flappin’ their wings all over the place.

At the end of the hall, she cut to the left, and she raced through the kitchen, rounding around to the back door.

She burst out of it and onto the porch, the screen door smacking behind her. Milo did a circle around her feet.

Her uncle Kale was standing at the top of the porch steps. Her heart nearly burst. She loved him all the way to the moon and all the way back times a million. Without slowing, she wound through the tables set up on the patio, her feet pounding on the wood. Excitement blazed through her whole body, and she threw her arms into the air, shouting, “Uncle Kale! Uncle Kale! You came to see me!”

Then she came to a skidding stop when she saw the boy who was holding her uncle’s hand, his hair almost like the sun, red and orange and white, all mixed together, his eyes so big in his glasses.

Green like the trees.

“Is this mys new friend Evan?” she rushed to ask, looking up at her uncle.

Her new special friend who her Mama told her she had to play all, all day with because he was super, super special because he didn’t have no hearing and he had a special heart that he got when he was just a baby.

Her mama even taught her how to talk to him a little tiny bit.