“So, he was up to something.”
“I didn’t say that.” She looked utterly defeated as she stood there on my front steps. I wanted to be able to ease her mind about Corry, but I simply couldn’t do it. I knew he’d had a hard time with his father. I’d heard the hurt in his voice when he talked about the things he’d done. “I know from my own experiences it’s difficult for a kid like him to trust. Hell, I had my own fucking issues with it. Trust is something that has to be earned, and it takes a lot to fucking earn it. If Corry trusted me even the slightest, I’m not about to take that away from him. So, do like I said and follow your instincts.”
“Okay, fine.” She propped her hand on her hip and huffed, “Can you at least tell me why you took him to your clubhouse instead of just dropping him off at home?”
“I was planning on it, but something came up, and I had to get to the clubhouse.”
“Something came up?”
“Yeah, something came up,” I repeated back to her.
“Good grief.” She crossed her arms with a huff. “Do you have any idea how frustrating you’re being right now?”
I motioned my head towards the doorway. “Come in before the neighbors start thinking you’re harassing me.”
“Harassing you?” she gasped. “You’re the one who’s being a stubborn ass and won’t tell me anything.”
“Just come inside, Frankie.”
Without another word, she walked past me and into the kitchen. A look of surprise marked her face as she took a quick glance around. It was a work in progress. I’d installed new tile and appliances but hadn’t gotten around to painting yet. Frankie kept that look of surprise as she meandered into the living room. After looking around at the new flooring and fireplace, she glanced back at me and said, “Your house is beautiful.”
“It’s a fucking mess.”
“It’s beautiful.” She turned and studied me for a moment. “Oh, God. I’m such an idiot. I never even thought to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“If you were married.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about our night at the coffee shop. “Little late to be worried about that now, don’t ya think?”
“Answer the question, Roman.”
“No, I’m not married.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope. Can’t say that I do. Why the sudden interest?”
“Not exactly sudden.” She turned to look at the picture above the fireplace as she explained, “I just assumed you weren’t in a relationship until I walked in here and saw your place.”
“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”
“It’s definitely a compliment and a big relief.”
“Glad to hear it.” As I started towards the living room, I asked, “Can I grab ya something? A water? Sweet tea?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs, waiting patiently as I went over and sat down next to her. Once I was settled, she said, “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have interrogated you like that. I’ve been so worried about Corry it’s making me a little crazy.”
“I get that you’re worried, but he’s a good kid, Frankie.”
“I know. I just want to do everything I can to keep him that way, and it’s not exactly easy. It seems the boy is set on driving me to madness.”
“More than likely just a phase. It’ll pass.”
“I’m not so sure.” She lowered her head and sighed. “He’s been through so much. His father isn’t exactly the best guy.”
“Yeah, he told me a little about that.” I leaned back on the sofa as I mumbled, “Seems he and I have that in common. My ol’ man was a real gem, too.”
“Your father was abusive to you, too?”
“You could say that.”
“I’m so sorry. How old were you when it started?”
“Him knocking me around?” When she nodded, I answered, “I guess I was around nine, maybe ten, but that was after years of watching him beat on my mother. Bruises and broken bones were pretty much the norm for us.”
“Oh, God. That’s awful. How did you get through it?”
“You really want to know?”
“Only if you feel comfortable talking about it.”
“Alright, but be forewarned. It’s not a pretty story.”
The memories of my childhood weren’t difficult to recall. With just a blink, they’d come flooding back one after the next, like water into a sinking ship, but I was hesitant to share. Frankie looked at me like no woman ever had—like I was someone who actually mattered to her. I feared once she’d heard what had happened to me, that look in her eyes would fade. It didn’t. In fact, it seemed to grow even stronger. I inhaled a deep breath as I told her, “By the time I was in high school, I’d learned to block out the pain. I barely even felt it when he’d burn me with the butt of his cigarette.”