Fault Lines Read online

  She ties a little black apron around her waist and continues talking to me with this giant smile—a genuine, warm smile. The kind of smile that you'd offer a friend you haven't spoken to in a while, not the kind of smile you offer the ex-girlfriend of the man you cheated with .

  "Whitney," I barely muster out before cutting her off and turning back around to lean over the sink. My hand trembles and fumbles recklessly with the knob to turn on the cold water. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Stars dance in front of my eyes, and my throat closes up as I pray for her to leave. "You work here?" I'm instantly pissed that Faith would bring me here knowing I could run into Whitney .

  "Just started…are you okay?" she asks when I suddenly feel her hand on my back .

  I shrug her off and splash cold water on my face again, doing my best to keep my composure. Anger courses through my veins and my knees shake uncontrollably .

  Whitney takes a cautious step back. "I knew you'd still be upset with me, but I assumed—" she starts before I cut her off sharply .

  "Don't assume you know anything about me or my feelings," I snap at her. "Don't assume that, because something happened ten goddamn years ago, that I'm okay with it today!" I yell at her .

  Emotions that have been bottled up all this time finally rise to the surface, rearing their ugly head. Standing up, water drips from my chin and I reach for the paper towels, pulling a handful of them from the wall dispenser to pat my face dry. My hands still tremble as Whitney continues to distance herself, seeing the full extent of my anger .

  "It's just that Cole—" Whitney starts again, but I don't pay attention to her words .

  It's hard not to hate everything about Whitney. She’s tall, beautiful, and rich. She was everything I never was. I understand why Cole would be attracted to her. Her long blonde hair was stick straight and soft, whereas mine was dark, drab, thick, and wavy. She had the most striking eyes and petite yet long frame. She was stunning and popular .

  I was just…me . Smart. Crazy smart, a real book nerd. I got good grades and never cared about what I wore, mostly because I couldn’t afford to care. It never dawned on me to care about what I looked like until I went to college and Ashley, my roommate, insisted I care. I always believed Cole liked me for me , not for the clothes I wore, or the color of my hair .

  "Don't breathe his name around me,” I seethe. “Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Do you understand?" I point a finger at her, daring her to touch me. I’m not a fighter by any means, but she’d better not test me tonight. "Don't pretend I'm okay with whatever it was you two — "

  "Stop! Just stop!" she yells at me, cutting me off. "I know you're angry, and I didn't want to do it, but Cole asked me to ."

  "Asked you to what?" I bark, rolling my eyes at her as I crumble the paper towels in my hands into a perfect little ball. "Spit it out," I sneer at her .

  She looks me in the eye and pulls her bottom lip into her teeth Her eyes dance with regret. "You have to talk to Cole, Franny. He needs to tell you. He promised me he'd tell you. I thought he already did..." She frowns as if she’s thinking back .

  It doesn’t matter. Whatever he needs to tell me doesn’t matter .

  "Never going to happen," I declare and toss the paper towels into the open wastebasket, shoving past Whitney toward the door. "Cole and I haven't spoken, nor will we ."

  "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry, Franny. I never meant to hurt you," she says when I pass her, tears dancing on her eyelids .

  I don’t care about her damn tears. I don’t blame her fully, but she was the catalyst that fucked up my plans .

  "Screw you, Whitney." I manage to say as I yank the bathroom door open so hard it bounces off the wall behind me. Laughter and music greet me back in the bar as I make my way back to our table. A cocktail waitress drops another round of shots on the table just as I throw myself back into my seat .

  "Everything okay?" Faith asks, squeezing a lemon into her shot .

  I eye it, reaching for a glass. "Does it look like I'm okay ?"

  "Well, obviously not, but Cole hasn't left that corner so I don't know what has you worked up now," she says, picking up the shot glass. "Lemon drop." She smiles at me until she sees how really upset I am and her smile turns to a frown. "What's wrong ?"

  "Just ran into Whitney Carson in the bathroom," I spit out and pick up the shot that's on the table, tossing it back. The vodka burns as it travels down to my stomach. "Or is it Whitney Ryan now?" I slur bitterly, slamming my shot glass down on the table .

  "Oh, shit, Franny," Faith stops me. "Just so you know, they're not together. I don't know the whole story, because honestly, I don't want to know the details. But I know for a fact they're not together. Whitney married Jackson McDermott about seven years ago. He graduated with me and works for the sheriff's department ."

  "How sweet." I roll my eyes and wave over the waitress. "Another round. Make it two." I tell her and she nods and walks away, her cowboy boots thumping along the wood floor as she leaves .

  Faith swallows hard. "I tried telling you about Whitney before we left, but you cut me off ."

  "Yeah, not a real big fan of talking about Whitney, or Cole for that matter ."

  Faith sighs and takes a sip of her shot. "I don't expect you to forgive them, Fran," she says, "but you have to let go of the hatred. It's not healthy ."

  I slowly raise my middle finger to her and she busts out laughing. "God, I've missed you." She giggles, suddenly pausing. "And if I didn't know for a fact she was married, I would think there was a lover’s quarrel happening right now," Faith says, nodding over my shoulder toward the corner behind me .

  I chance a glance over my shoulder and see Whitney speaking very animatedly with Cole. Her arms flinging and foot stomping tell me she's really giving it to him. He doesn't speak, but he shakes his head at her, all while drinking from a bottle of beer with his eyes fixed on me .

  "Ugghhhh," I mutter and Faith laughs again .

  "Whatever happened with you two in the bathroom obviously got to her as well," Faith says .

  Our shots arrive and, without a second thought, I pick one up, licking the sugar off the rim before tipping it back and finishing it—to forget. Tonight is about forgetting. Right now, my entire body is buzzing and I want to forget everything. Cole. Whitney. My own damn name. I just want to disappear .

  "Faith," I slur and hiccup. "I'm drunk. Certifiably drunk." I point my finger at her and giggle .

  "Good. You needed to let loose," she says, her eyes sympathetic .

  "So did you," I remind her, the mood shifting. "I don't know how you do it all alone, Faith," I tell her, speaking about the kids .

  "Mom helps." She shrugs. "And they're good kids, Franny. You help me financially and that's the hardest part, honestly ."

  I look at my gorgeous sister through blurry eyes and think about everything she's sacrificed. "Don't underestimate yourself," I tell her .

  Faith was always good at letting others shine at her expense. She never wanted the spotlight or the attention. She was fine carrying the load and letting someone else accept the recognition. Selfless. Caring. I don’t know what I’d do without her .

  She slides another lemon drop shot across the table toward me. "Last one," she says, holding up her glass. "What should we toast to ?"

  I tip my head back and glance over my shoulder. "To letting go of the past," I say quietly .

  "I like that," Faith whispers and squeezes my hand .

  "Me, too ."

  Nine

  "T he target is movin
g," Carter says, jabbing me in the back with a pool cue .

  I've been lost in my thoughts after Whitney told me about running into Frankie in the restroom and their subsequent exchange. I snap my head around to see Frankie fumbling with her purse and Faith laughing as they walk arm in arm toward the door. When Carter and I arrived at the bar tonight, we were both shocked as hell to find Frankie and Faith here. Carter took it upon himself to give me the play-by-play every time Frankie took a breath, and while I shouldn't care about what Frankie’s doing, I do. And Carter knows it. So much for leaving the past in the past .

  "I'm out." I toss my pool cue onto the center of the pool table, abandoning my game and taking one last swallow of beer before slamming the bottle down on the table. By the time I get to the parking lot, Frankie and Faith are nowhere to be found. I instantly relax when I see Frankie's car parked out at the edge of the parking lot, glad that she didn't get behind the wheel after drinking as much as she did tonight. I scan the area in hopes of seeing them, but I come up empty handed .

  With a booming thud, the door of the VFW slams shut behind Carter as he exits and meets me in the parking lot. His eyes find Frankie's car with her California license plates and he looks at me. "Only two ways they could’ve went. Toward home or toward Faith's." He points with each of his hands in opposite directions. "They're about equal distance. Let's divide and conquer. You head toward home and I'll head toward Faith's. One of us is bound to find them ."

  "And what exactly are we going to do when we find them?" I ask with a laugh and a shake of my head .

  "I don't know, dumbass, maybe just make sure they get home okay? Unless you wanted to kidnap them and hold them hostage, and if that's where this is going I'm going to have to gracefully bow out." Carter rolls his eyes at me and twirls his keys in his hand .

  "You've never been graceful about a damn thing." I punch his shoulder. "Go. You head toward Faith's. If you find them, make sure they get there and call me so I know they're okay ."

  "You got it." He nods before jumping into his old pickup truck .

  I scan the area one last time before getting into my Jeep and heading toward home. It takes me all of two minutes to get there and not a sight of Frankie or Faith along the way. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking staying at the VFW when I saw them walk in. She's my addiction, always has been. I told Carter I wanted to leave her in the past, yet I'm drawn to her like a junkie looking to get his next fix. My mind says no, yet my body—my heart—says yes .

  "Fuck," I mutter to myself, angry at how conflicted I am now that she's back .

  Just as I get inside and kick my shoes off, my cell phone rings, Carter's name flashing on the screen. Before I even say hello, he's speaking, "I found them," he says and it sounds like he's out of breath .

  "Where were they ?"

  "Couple of blocks from Faith's house. I got Faith home just in time for her to get sick, but, uh…Frankie…" He hesitates .

  "What about her ?"

  "She's passed out cold…here in my truck. I left her in the truck when I got Faith in her house and when I came back out, she was passed out ."

  I groan and run my hand over my face. "Just bring her back here. I'll help get her in her house ."

  "We'll be there in two minutes," he says before hanging up .

  I slide back into my shoes and wait for them out front. Carter's truck rolls up slowly and he parks in front of Frankie's house. I jog down the driveway to meet them when he steps down from the pickup truck, his eyebrows raised in amusement. I glance in the driver's door window and there lies Frankie on the bench seat, her knees pulled to her chest and her head lying on the seat .

  "Go get the front door," I tell Carter as I walk around to the passenger door and pull it open .

  I nudge Frankie gently to see if she'll move, but as Carter already assessed, she's passed out cold, nothing but dead weight. I wedge my arm under her legs and pull her gently across the seat toward me. With my other arm, I lift her into my arms, her head falling against my chest. Her dark hair falls in piles around her shoulders and her pink lips are parted slightly as she breathes softly. She smells like heaven, a combination of coconut and vodka. She stirs slightly in my arms as I carry her up the driveway and to her front porch .

  I hear Carter mumbling before he turns around. "Door's locked," he states matter of factly, jiggling the doorknob again just to make sure .

  I sigh in frustration. "They never lock the door. It must’ve been the night nurse. Where are her keys ?"

  "Keys?" He looks between Frankie in my arms and his car. "I left a purse with Faith, but Frankie has nothing with her ."

  "Nothing?" I ask, wondering if I heard him correctly. "She drove her car to the bar. She had to have keys with her ."

  He shrugs and I sigh again. We look at each other for a brief moment before I turn around .

  "Where are you going?" he asks and jogs down the front porch steps after me .

  "Home," I answer him .

  "With Frankie?" He catches up to me and shoots me a curious look .

  "Well, I can't very well leave her outside on the porch all night, can I ?"

  My feet carry us across the street and up the middle of my front yard to the porch. "Get the door for me, will ya ?"

  Carter scrambles up the steps in front of me to open the front door, only he pauses first. "Cole, maybe she should stay with — "

  "Not a fucking chance," I snap at him. "Open the door ."

  And he does, stepping aside to let us in. "Maybe I should stay—" he begins before I cut him off again .

  "Nope, we're all good here. Just shut the door behind you ."

  "She's going to be pissed, you know." He looks at me with Frankie wrapped in my arms. "But I'd pay a thousand dollars to be here in the morning when she wakes up in your house." He chuckles .

  "Get out of here, Carter," I yell at him .

  "Two thousand!" He steps over the threshold and back out onto the front porch .

  "Goodnight," I say through gritted teeth .

  "Fine. But call me tomorrow. I can't wait to hear about this ."

  With his parting comments, the front door slams shut. I shuffle carefully down the dark hallway to my room. It's the only room in the house where there's a bed. Frankie can stay here, and I'll take the couch. My knees hit the edge of the bed and I carefully lay her down. I flip on the bedside lamp so that I can see enough to get her shoes and jacket off .

  She's dead weight as I shift her from side to side, pulling her jacket off her thin arms. I brush the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Memories flash before my eyes of all the times I touched her hair. I pause, taking in her beauty. She's exactly the Frankie I remember. Her small nose is sprinkled with light freckles, so light that you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for them. Her pink lips are full, and a small dark mole sits right on the edge of her lower lip. Again, you wouldn't know it was there—but I've studied, memorized every millimeter of Frankie's body. I know every mole, every mark, every curve, and the feel of her soft skin .

  She suddenly moves, curling into a ball in the middle of my bed. She pulls her hands up, resting them on the pillow next to her face. It's there; the large diamond ring hangs from her left ring finger, slapping me back to reality—a reality where Frankie isn't mine and never will be .

  My heart aches at how I've hurt her—how I changed the course of our lives with one simple lie. She's happy, I tell myself, as I've done every night since she left. Trying to convince myself again that what I did was the right decision. That what I did was best for her—for us. But I know I’m full of shit as I swallow back my disgust and ch
oke on my own lies. This was what I wanted, wasn't it ?

  If it was, then why does it still hurt so fucking bad ?

  I sit on the edge of the bed for hours, watching her, studying each steady breath, and every movement she makes. She hums lightly every so often and exhales loudly when she tosses and turns, her sleep unsettled. Only when the sun begins to rise do I leave her. I close the bedroom door and head to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee .

  Hours pass and exhaustion rips through me, but I refuse to close my eyes before Frankie wakes up. I stand at my front window, eyes glued to the house across the street as they were for years after she left. Years of regret I've kept buried deep inside me begins to rise, gnawing at me. When Frankie walks out of my door this morning, it may be the last time I ever speak with her .

  What do you say to the one person who owned you—every little fucked up piece of you...that you tossed away so she could live her dreams? What do you say when you have fifteen seconds to explain that it was the biggest mistake of your life ?

  ‘I'm sorry’ seems so weak. ‘I fucked up’ sounds so insincere. I struggle to find the words buried deep inside me as I squeeze my coffee mug in one hand and run my other hand across my face .

  I pinch my eyes closed and breathe deeply when I suddenly hear the soft sounds of shuffling behind me. I turn, frozen in place by bright blue eyes that I'd never forget in a million years. She looks away quickly and nervously twists her jacket in both hands .

  Stepping toward the door, she pauses. "I'm not sure how I ended up here—" she starts then stops, pulling her lips between her teeth .

  My heart thrums wildly in my chest and my stomach drops as the words I was previously looking for are nowhere to be found. "Frankie." Her name rolls off my tongue, barely a whisper .

  Her entire body stills, clearly affected by me. Her eyes remain turned down on her feet .

  "Carter found you and Faith walking last night," I start, breaking the unbearable tension filling the space between us .