Chapter 4
Frankie
There have been many people who’ve come in and out of my life, but only a slim few had made a true, lasting impression on me. Widow, our mysterious hero in the night, was one of those people.
I’ll be honest. When he first approached Sean and me on that dark highway, I was more than a little wary, and justifiably so. The guy was big and broad with dark, menacing eyes and shaggy hair. And if that wasn’t enough, he was wearing a leather jacket with the words Ruthless Sinners embroidered on the back. He was a sight to behold. I had every right to be scared.
Then, he spoke.
I can’t really explain why, but the more he talked, the more at ease I became. And I wasn’t the only one. Sean, my usually reserved, quiet child, was acting like this complete stranger was an old friend which only made me feel even more comfortable. I was finally able to see past the fear to the man standing before me—and oh my. What a man he was. He had this internal tenacity that exuded confidence with a smidge of arrogance. Widow was a man who wasn’t afraid to take charge, but at the same time, he was grounded with nothing to prove. Add in the fact he was kind enough to stop and help two complete strangers and you have a man who is undeniably sexy.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him which was a clear sign that I needed to get back on the dating horse again. Before I could do that, I needed to get the situation with Corry under control. I thought I was getting closer to doing just that until Corry’s new counselor called.
“Hello, Ms. Sullivan. This is Peyton Archer. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Of course.” I’d been expecting his call. After Corry’s last appointment, he’d mentioned that he had something to discuss with me. I just didn’t know what, so I said, “I was hoping to hear from you.”
“Great.” He inhaled a deep breath before saying, “First, let me start off by saying I think things are going well. Corry was a little apprehensive at first, but he’s starting to open up and we’re making progress.”
“That’s really great news.”
“I think so as well.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “I wanted to check with you to see if Corry has ever taken any kind of anxiety medication? Maybe Wellbutrin or Zoloft?”
“No. He’s never had to take anything like that.”
“So, no one has ever suggested that he might need it?”
“No. Never.” Alarmed by his questioning, I asked, “Why? Do you think he needs it?”
“I think it could be very beneficial for him. He clearly has some issues with anxiety, and I think the medication could help. I thought I would call and get your thoughts on the matter.”
“I think it might help as well. Like I mentioned before, my boys have been through a lot, especially Corry.”
“Yes, I made note of that.” His tone remained steady and calm as he said, “You said Marc was hard on Corry, that he pushed him to be better. Do you think he pushed him too hard?”
“At times, yes, but Corry isn’t exactly the most motivated child. It doesn’t seem like he’s driven at all. I thought he needed a little pushing.” My chest tightened as I said, “I even pushed him myself. I just wanted to see him succeed.”
“That’s completely understandable, Ms. Sullivan. Boys his age often need a little direction.”
“So, where are you going with all this?”
“I believe Corry has a mild case of PTSD..”
“Oh my. I had no idea.” I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t believe it. My son could have PTSD, and I hadn’t seen it. I’d known he wasn’t sleeping. I heard him talk about being wound up over a test or project, but I thought it was all normal. I thought it was typical teenage behavior. “Is that why you want to try the medication?”
“Yes, it’s one of the many reasons.” Before I could respond, he added, “If it’s okay with you, I will call it into your pharmacy this morning, and we can see if it helps.”
“Yes, that will be fine. Thank you.”
After I gave him my pharmacy information, Dr. Archer said, “You have a good day, Ms. Sullivan, and I’ll see you and Corry on Thursday.”
As soon as I hung up the phone, I went over to my secret spot in the garage and grabbed my pack of cigarettes. I took it and my lighter over to the front porch and stepped behind the shrubbery, trying my best to hide as I lit one of the cigarettes. I silently cursed myself for smoking yet again. I knew it was an awful habit and I needed to quit. And I would. Just not today. I was nestled into my secret hiding spot, trying to fight back my tears as I mulled over my conversation with the counselor. I was feeling completely overwhelmed when I heard the rumble of a motorcycle coming in my direction. It wasn’t a sound I was used to hearing in my neighborhood, so I peeked my head out of the bushes and was surprised to see Widow pulling into my driveway.