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I know she heard me, but surprisingly she left it alone.
Once we were outside, she linked her arm through mine, holding onto it with her other for good measure. What did she think I was going to do? Bolt at the first chance I got? I wish. I hadn’t run in... I don’t know. It could have been yesterday for all I knew, but it felt like a hundred years ago. My short-term memory was shit these days.
“What are you doing here, Frankie?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the people bustling down the sidewalk, the cars driving by, everything and anything except her.
“I told you, I wanted to make sure you were ok. How hard would it be to pick up your phone and answer a text?”
Hard. Excruciating. Impossible. All of my energy went into putting on a front for people at the theater, for Sasha. But even that was slipping. The only place I could pretend everything wasn’t falling to shit was at work. But work was also the most draining. As hard as it was, I’d be damned if I crumbled there. My professional reputation was on the line. It was the only thing I had left those monsters hadn’t ruined.
She didn’t ask any more questions until we were seated at the coffee shop. Sitting across from me, I couldn’t exactly avoid her big doe eyes and the concern creasing her brow. “Are you ok?”
I snorted, staring out the window next to us. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Ilya round the corner a moment later. He leaned against a building, texting on his phone. Probably tattling to Sasha. God forbid I have an unauthorized, unaccompanied voyage outside the compound. At any minute, I was sure a group of Russians were going to storm the place and drag me out. Actually, I wasn’t that opposed to it happening, mainly because I didn’t want to leave with her in the first place. If one of my imaginary rescuers threw me over their shoulder and carried me back to the couch, that was fine by me. I’d happily play the damsel in distress if it got me out of whatever conversation Frankie intended on having.
“I’m serious, Roan. You’ve never gone radio silent before.” She reached across the table and snagged my hand, squeezing it. “You know you can always talk to me.”
“Oh yeah? What should we talk about?” My gaze snapped to hers and I ripped my hand free. “You want to talk about my boyfriend? The one you fucking hate with a passion? You want to talk about the nightmares? How it hurts to fucking breathe sometimes? How there are days I wish I didn’t wake up? Please, tell me. What do you want to chat about? Let’s catch up. Tell me all about how wonderful New York is and how I’m a fucking idiot for not going to Georgetown.”
“My God, I haven’t seen you this pissed since you lost first chair in seventh grade.” She crossed her arms and flung herself back in her seat. “I forgot what an asshole you can be.”
“I learned from the best.”
“You’re better than your father, Roan. You always have been.”
“Whole lot of good it’s done me.”
“I’d say ithasdone you a lot of good, genius. You’re living your dream. It’s what you always wanted.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.” I glowered at the packets of sugar between us.
I was scrambling to secure more and more jobs because as soon as the show with Feodor was over, there was no guarantee I’d be hired on for the next project. No car. No place of my own. Living with a guy who can’t even hold my hand in public. My life was just stellar. Absolutely everything I dreamed about as a kid.
“I hate to rain on your pity party, but there are people out there who would kill to be where you are. And before you start in on me, yeah. I know you went through hell. I was there, remember? I know it hasn’t been easy for you. But when you’re not so fucking depressed, take a moment and get some perspective. Or keep letting this one thing define you.”
“Fuck you, Frankie. You don’t get to fly in here and tell me what I should be thinking or feeling. You don’t know the first fucking thing about it!”
“Fuck you too, Roan. You don’t get to self-destruct and expect me to sit by andnotdo something. I don’t care if your so-called boyfriend is ok with you trashing all of your relationships or fucking up all the good things you have going for you. Maybe if he knew you longer than a nanosecond, he’d see you’re fucking screaming for help.”
He did see. I know he did. I saw the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t with love and admiration like he used to. It was with a guarded wariness. Sadness. I was a disappointment to him. A regret. Worse, a mistake — even if he’d never fucking admit it. Goddamn Russian pride.
“Or maybe he doesn’t care,” Frankie continued, leaning forward and carrying on with her tirade. “Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about your feelings as long as he gets his rocks off. His own little boy toy to play with whenever the mood strikes. Is that it? Is he blackmailing you into all of this? Or do you still have some twisted sense of loyalty to him after he locked you in a fucking dog cage for a week?”
My eyes burned, signaling tears were on the horizon if I didn’t get a grip on the hurricane of emotions raging inside of me. “No, he’s not fucking blackmailing me. I don’t expect you to understand a single fucking thing about it, nor do I have to justify my relationship with him to you or anyone else.”
“No, you don’t. I’m just curious what you tell yourself. You could have anyone you wanted. Male. Female. You know you attract them all. And yet, you choose a guy who robbed a bank, kidnapped you, beat you, and nearly got you killed. Seems like a solid pick to me.”
I leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “I picked the guy who looked at me like I was the center of his goddamn world. The guy who was willing to die for me. And the only person who ever made me feel like I was worth a damn.”
“Looked? Was?” She arched a dark brow. “Listen to yourself.”
“I’ve had enough of your psychobabble bullshit to last a lifetime. I used the wrong tense. Fucking sue me.” I flung myself back in my chair, turning my attention out the window again.
Ilya was still there, actually talking on the phone now. He was smiling and it looked like he was laughing every once in a while, so I knew he wasn’t talking to Sasha. He didn’t tell Sasha about my dad or the car. And Sasha hadn’t stormed in here to get me as far away from Frankie as possible. So maybe Ilya was telling the truth. Maybe he wasn’t here just to spy on me.
Frankie sighed, her voice softening. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Could have fucking fooled me.”
“I’m worried. Ok? No, I don’t know what’s going on in your day-to-day life anymore. You shut everyone out. I get it. I can’t even imagine all the shit you’re dealing with. But what I do know is this —thisperson in front of me — isn’t you.”
