One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(65)

"You could have just broken up with her ya' know. You didn't have to make her believe you were cheating on her, or that Whitney's baby was yours." He takes a deep breath, eyeing me carefully, knowing he's gone too far. He's wanted to call me on my shit for ten years and right now, I'm weak enough to let him.

I twist the throttle on the motorcycle, finding something to fidget with. "She would have come back here. She wasn't for a second going to just let me break up with her…that's not how Frankie and I were."

"You need to talk to her."

"No can do." I turn back to the rusty foot peg.

He shakes his head and strides over to the fridge we keep in the old shop, pulling out a cold bottle of water. "I'm just saying you may never see her again, Cole. Don't let this opportunity slip past you. It's rare in life that we get an opportunity to right our wrongs." He shoots me a disgusted look and leaves the garage. A look I wholeheartedly deserve.

I kick a wrench that's lying on the ground and feel the anger I've buried for so long bubble to the surface. "Let it go," I tell myself. "Let her go."

***

Hours later and feeling no better than I did when Carter left, I slam the large rolling garage door down. It makes a thunderous sound when it meets the concrete drive. I engage the lock and head back to my Jeep, starting it and revving the engine. I engage the clutch and push the gas a little too hard, causing the Jeep to lurch forward. Just as I near the street, I catch something in the corner of my eye. I slam on the brakes and the tires squeal.

What the hell!

"Would you lookout!" I yell as Maggie Winthrop rolls by on her skateboard.

Maggie Winthrop is Frankie's niece, Faith's daughter, and a dead ringer for Frankie at nine years old. She narrows her blue eyes at me and hops off her skateboard before turning back to glare at me.

"Why don't you slow down!" she hollers back and adjusts the baseball cap that's turned backward on her head.

"You're a pain in the ass, Mags!" I holler at her before easing the Jeep onto the road.

"Back at you, Ryan!" She rolls her eyes at me and then hops back on her skateboard.

When Faith Winthrop moved back to town after her divorce, I was certain I'd hear from her. I've been waiting for the riot act—only it's never come. She was always Frankie's protector…but she's never spoken a word to me in the three years she's been back in Crescent Ridge. I catch her nasty glares and dirty looks in passing, but she's never once confronted me about what happened between Frankie and me.

Maggie, on the other hand, is never short on words. I often see her at her Grandma's house across the street, and she's always offering me the latest insult or jab—reminding me so fondly of Frankie from the past. Maggie is complex, much like Frankie was. She's a Tomboy, a ballet dancer, and a swimmer. She's talented and multi-dimensional, just like her aunt Frankie, and I find all of her qualities, including her smartass mouth, endearing—though I'd never admit that to her.

My stomach lurches as I roll into our cul-de-sac and park my Jeep in the driveway. I take a chance and peer through my rearview mirror at the house behind me, hoping to catch another glance of Frankie. When I don’t see her, I hop down from the Jeep and walk toward the front porch of my house. A moment later, I hear the screen door across the street squeal before closing with a bang.

My feet feel like bricks as they come to an abrupt stop and I turn around. My lungs release the air I was holding and my stomach settles when I see the nurse I hired to care for Martha. She offers me a short wave as she walks down the driveway to her car parked on the street. I jog down to meet her, anxious for an update on Martha and anything she'll willingly tell me about Frankie.

I approach and she offers me a kind smile. "Mr. Ryan," she says, her voice soft and comforting. "Frances made it home late last night."

I nod and stand with my hands on my hips, one eye carefully trained on the house behind her in case Frankie appears.

"Martha is up and Melinda is preparing her breakfast,” she continues. “She was so happy to see her daughter. Melinda will walk Faith and Frances through our afternoon care routine."

"Good," I tell her as she juggles her car keys in her hand.

"I'll be back again this evening and will make sure to update you immediately if anything changes with Ms. Callaway."

"That sounds great. Thank you again for your help." I smile at her as she opens her car door and tosses her purse on the passenger seat.

"Oh," Judy says, turning back to me and wringing her hands together nervously. "Ms. Callaway…I mean Frances," she corrects herself, "asked for billing to be transferred to her— "

I shake my head quickly, cutting her off. "Nope. Our agreement remains intact. I'll continue picking up the costs for her care until I determine that it should be transferred.” I quickly add, “No need to argue with Frankie about it, just don't transfer it."

Judy sighs loudly but doesn't argue with me. "Yes, sir," she says quietly and slides into the driver’s seat of her Nissan Sentra.

I wave to her as she drives off, and I cross back to my side of the street where I belong. Far away from Frankie.

There are very few things I can do to ever rectify what I did to Frankie. Even though she's moved on and is some big-time lawyer in Los Angeles, this is something I can do to help clear my guilty conscience.