One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(59)

I watch the cars below, crawling along the busy Los Angeles streets, and the hustle and bustle of the city just fifty stories below me. It’s windy up here on the patio, and the soft afternoon breeze whips my hair around. I tilt my face to the sky and let the setting sun cast its warm rays on me when my phone buzzes in my hand. I hesitate, wanting to indulge in a few more moments of silence, but I think better of it.

Glancing down, I see my mom’s home number flashing on the sleek screen of my oversized mobile phone.

“Hi, Mama.” I take a deep breath, excited to hear her voice.

“Frankie?”

My heart sinks when I hear a man’s voice. A voice I could never forget. A voice so familiar that it still haunts me to this day.

Cole. The only person to ever call me Frankie. My heart stills as I wait for him to say more.

“You need to come home,” he says gruffly.

My stomach drops as his voice takes my breath away. The pull it still has on me shakes me to my core. Before he says anything else, I close my eyes and find myself lost in time, back to when I was eleven years old, spending my afternoons down at the fault line, soaking up the last of the sunlight with Cole by my side.

Crescent Ridge, Nevada resides right on top of a fault line, a town with less than eight hundred people, and sits on the California/Nevada border. A town I left ten years ago and haven’t returned to—because of Cole.

I swallow hard against my dry throat. “Why?” I barely manage to ask.

“It’s your mama, Frankie.”

“Is she okay?” I ask frantically.

I hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying, but nothing is really registering. Collapsed, stroke, scans, breathing…but before he has a chance to say anything else, I move into panic mode.

“I’m on my way,” I tell him, disconnecting the call.

My hand shakes wildly as I grip my phone. This morning I was on top of the world. This afternoon, my world has done a one-eighty.

***

"I don't know, Faith, he called me first," I bark at my sister, who's frantically asking me questions. "He called and said something happened to Mom and I needed to come home. Where are you?" My voice peaks with annoyance.

"Disneyworld, Franny, remember?" she gripes at me, just as annoyed.

"Shit," I sigh.

Faith moved back to Crescent Ridge with her two kids three years ago after her divorce. The one weekend she finally gets a break, a vacation with her kids, something happens to Mom.

"I'll call the airlines and switch our return flights as soon as we hang up."

"Don't," I sigh. "Let me get home and see how bad it is. You've worked so hard to be able to give the kids this vacation. Enjoy the last couple of days there. The kids deserve it. You deserve it."

Faith is an amazing mom and is the sole provider for my niece and nephew. I send her money every now and then so she doesn't need to worry, but I know it's still hard on her. Faith and I were inseparable as little girls, and there isn't anything she wouldn't do for me, or me for her. If I can alleviate some of her financial stress, I'll always help.

Mama won't accept a dime of my money, telling me I've worked too damn hard to get where I am to give my money away. God knows she needs it. Faith tells me the house is falling apart, but Mama won't hear of it when I offer a few dollars to fix things up.

"You call me as soon as you know something, and we'll still come home early if we need to." Her voice breaks.

"Okay. I need to go pack so I can get on the road," I tell her with an exaggerated sigh.

"Franny?" she says quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I know home is the last place you want to go."

I swallow hard as I feel a lump form in my throat. "You're welcome." I'm barely able to speak. She's right. Crescent Ridge is the last place I want to be.

But it’s where I have to go.

I begin to forge a trail in the floor between my dresser and closet, frantically pulling shirts off hangers and shoving pants haphazardly into my large suitcase while admonishing myself for not asking more questions about my mom.

Ted appears with an extra-large coffee from the chain coffee shop down the street, handing it to me before turning away to finish his phone conversation, his phone still pressed to his ear. Most nights are like this. He’s hungry and tireless when it comes to his business and his clients. He instilled in me that work ethic, but where Ted is all business, I draw the line at my Mama and Faith. They are the only family I have and they will always trump business. Always.

Guilt settles in when I think of how I haven’t seen my mom in five years. Five years ago, she got on a bus and rode to L.A. to see me. Five years since I’ve seen her face and felt the comforting hugs she always plied me with. I used to pay for Mama to come see me, but the last five years she's declined my offers. She tells me she's too tired to travel at her age. Now my heart aches that I've been so selfish and haven't gone to see her.

I slam my suitcase closed, zipping it up and pulling it off the bed. I drag the heavy case down the steps, letting it thump against each step as I descend the stairs. Ted doesn’t notice as he stands, leaning his shoulder against the hallway wall, still on the phone.

“Bye,” I whisper as I walk past him and drag the suitcase out the front door to my waiting Mercedes. I shove it in the trunk, while cursing at how heavy it is, then I settle into the driver’s seat. I’m putting the ignition in reverse when I see Ted bounding down the concrete steps from our house, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie loosened. As I roll down the window, he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek.