Page 92 of Frankie and the Fed

“I want to believe you,” she whispers. “I really, really want to.”

“Then say yes.” I’m begging on my knees. What else should I do?

“I’m staying with Olive today.”

“No, I need you to come back,” I beg again.

She looks at me. “You shaved,” she notes in a quiet voice. “And your eyes are red. Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Are you having nightmares again?”

“Always when you’re not with me.” And especially when I’m worried about you.

She places a warm hand on my cheek. “Your skin is so smooth like this. I’ve never seen you without the stubble. You look so young.”

I have no idea where her thoughts wander, but I don’t risk saying something out of place.

“I want to believe you. But the burden of proof is on you. Let me into your life. Tell me about the mistakes, the things that will make me angry. No more hiding.”

I nod vigorously. “I’m an open book. Anything you want.”

“I need you to give me time.”

* * *

The last thing I wanted was to leave without her. But I had no choice. I have to trust her to come back to me. I call Olive from the road.

“Keep her safe,” I ask.

“She doesn’t need to be looked after. She does a good job by herself.”

“You’re right. She does a much better job than me. After what happened with Anna, I was on a journey of self-destruction. If I didn’t have Ryan and his family to pull me out of the black hole I was in, I wouldn’t be here today. I’d either be in prison or dead.”

“You know, you never told me what happened to Anna,” Olive says in a quiet voice. “I know she’s dead. I know her death affected you a lot, but I don’t know what happened.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Really? Somehow I thought it had already come up, or Ryan had told you.”

“Ryan would never betray your trust. He won’t tell me anything about you. And I tried. I tried to get embarrassing stories from your childhood out of him. He wouldn’t give in.”

“Haha.” I grin. “How lucky I am he’s watching over me. You would make my life miserable if you knew all my dirty secrets.”

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“So tell me what happened?”

“Someday,” I say. “It’s not a light conversation.”

“Okay.” She’s silent for a moment. “Don’t worry. Ayala is fine here with me. Give her some time. I’ll convince her to forgive you.”

“Thanks, Olive.” I hang up.

I crawl through the heavy traffic of Manhattan, lost in thought. I need to tell Olive about Anna. She’s a genuine friend. She needs to know.

Fuck.