Page 12 of Frankie (Big Northwest #5)

CHAPTER TWELVE

JD

I t had been a long time since he’d woken up to someone licking his face.

JD gently pushed at the small body standing at the center of his chest, shoving the dog off to one side as he swiped at the dog spit on the end of his nose. “How in the hell did you get up here?” He’d been under the impression Frankie’s little demon dogs couldn’t get their butts up onto the sofa. Obviously that was an incorrect assumption.

Blinking hard against the sleep blurring his vision, he yawned loudly. There was no sunlight peeking in through the curtains, so it must have still been early.

Not too early for a bathroom break apparently.

Working himself upright, he tucked the small dog under one arm and stood, slogging his way through the house as two sets of tiny claws scratched against the floor in his wake. Opening the back door, he stepped out onto the small deck flanking the backside of Frankie’s house. After setting Devi down with her sisters, he stood watch as they picked their way through the grass, each spending a ridiculous amount of time in search of the perfect place to take a shit.

Her chihuahuas were high maintenance—certainly more work than his dog Molly had been. But taking care of them still fed that part of him that missed the companionship that only a pet could bring.

And those three little heathens brought their own special brand of companionship.

After what felt like forever, the three of them were finally finished, and he let them back inside before going to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He’d shirked his responsibilities at Danny’s shop and the café for long enough. It was time to get his ass in gear and make an appearance. Frankie should probably go too, or there would be total anarchy.

Each of the sisters had their own fan base demographic. The boy moms tended to gravitate toward Danny. The iced coffee drinking boss bitches loved Alex. The crafty hippie girls thought Charlie was the shit. The women who named their sourdough starters after suffragists loved Sam.

And then there was Frankie. The people who came to see her were as feral as she was, and their willingness to take no for an answer was just as unlikely.

He was partway through heating up another pair of the breakfast burritos Jeffrey brought over after Frankie’s first night in the woods, when she came shuffling down the hall looking like she hadn’t slept at all. JD scanned her from head to toe, looking for any sign of what might have kept her from sleeping, but she didn’t seem to be in significant pain. “You okay?”

“No.” Frankie grabbed the coffee pot off its maker and sloshed the dark liquid into a mug. “You snore.”

“I don’t snore, Frank.” He opened the fridge and pulled out the creamer she used, uncapping it to pour a dose into her cup. “That’s your minions making all that racket at night.” He slid the carton back into place and pulled the first of the burritos from the microwave. “And let me tell you, it’s way louder when you’re in the same room with them.” He handed off the plate, studying Frankie as she took it and made her way to the sofa. “Why don’t they normally keep you up at night?”

“Who the fuck knows.” She lowered to the cushions and leaned back, letting out a breath. “They’re probably snoring louder to piss you off and I’m getting caught in the crossfire.”

He could actually see that. Except the trio didn’t seem to hate his presence here. Did they treat him like a servant? Yes, but they didn’t attempt to chew their way through his ankles like they did everyone else, so that had to mean something.

“Are you going home today?” Frankie asked around a mouthful of egg and tortilla.

“I guess that depends on you.” He pulled his own breakfast from the microwave and took a bite. “You gonna be a pain in the ass again?”

Frankie shot him a glare. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to my place to pick up some fresh clothes and then coming back here then, because you’ve been a pain in my ass since the day we met.” And that was the crux of the problem.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many women he met, no matter how many years passed, she still held that spot. One he couldn’t figure out how to get her out of.

“You like it.” She shoved in another mouthful, eyes full of challenge as she stared at him across the room.

He should blow the remark off. Let her have the last word. But that was why this problem he had could never seem to be resolved. With everyone else he could be laid back and easygoing. They didn’t give him shit and he didn’t dish it out to them.

But Frankie… She brought out the worst in him with her perfectly aimed jabs and her daring taunts.

“I guess I do.” That was the only explanation for why he kept coming back for more in spite of himself. But he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be a little addicted. “And I’m starting to think you like it just as much.” He smirked, knowing how his next words were going to land. “Maybe more.”

Frankie scoffed. “Bullshit. ”

He straightened away from the counter, ready to go to battle with her sharp tongue yet again, but a knock on her door cut their fight short.

JD carried his plate with him as he went to the front of the house, checking through the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt to open the door on Danny’s smiling face. Her expression faltered when she saw him standing there in his pajama pants. “Uhh.” Her eyes darted past him to where Frankie sat on the sofa. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“I went home yesterday, but Frankie called me last night to come back.” He smiled at the sharp sound of Frankie’s scoff behind him.

Danny’s blonde brows climbed her forehead. “Oh.” Her wide eyes bounced between him and the woman shooting eye daggers so sharp he could feel them slicing his back. “I’m glad you were able to come…” Danny cleared her throat “…help her out.”

Frankie made a strangled sound that had his smirk blooming into a full-on grin.

Danny thought they were sleeping together, and he was going to let her keep thinking it. Mainly because of how much it was pissing Frankie off right now.

It was a little odd Frankie didn’t set her sister straight, though. Really odd, actually.

He turned to make sure she hadn’t blacked out—since that was the only explanation for why she would let something like that fly—and while Frankie wasn’t unconscious, something was most definitely wrong.

She was upright, but her skin was pale and her posture was off.

Thankfully, Danny didn’t seem to notice. “I was checking to see if you’d be at the meet-and-greet this morning?—”

“We’ll be there.” JD stepped in between her and Frankie, cutting off Danny’s line of sight. “Give us thirty minutes to get dressed.” Without waiting for an answer, he closed the door and turned, crossing the room quickly. After practically dropping his plate onto the table, he braced his hands at Frankie’s waist, helping support her weight as she stood up. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” Anger laced her words, but there was a helpless sort of expression on her face as her hands gripped his biceps, holding tight. “This is bullshit.”

“I know.” He shifted his hold on her, working his way to her side so they could make their way to the bedroom. “We’ll get it figured out.”

Frankie was so damn independent. So fucking defiant in the face of any kind of adversity. This had to be frustrating as hell for her. And it would only get worse once her sisters found out what was going on. The risk that someone might try to pity her or offer sympathy was huge.

And that would go over like a lead fucking balloon.

After reaching the bedroom, he helped her settle on the edge of the bed then went to the closet, reaching for a pair of jeans from the rack.

“Ew. Not those.” Frankie wrinkled her nose and motioned to a black pair. “Give me those.”

He dragged them free and passed them off.

Frankie peeked his way. “Thank you.” She closed her eyes, squeezing the lids tightly together. “I might need you to help me put them on.”

The defeat in her voice cracked against his chest, making it ache as he lowered to the floor in front of her. After getting to his knees, he shook open the folded pants and carefully threaded them onto her legs, doing his best not to jostle her around more than he absolutely had to. Once they were past her shins, he lifted his eyes to hers. “Can you get up on your own?”

Frankie nodded, expression tight. “I think so.” She pushed against the mattress with both hands, managing to right herself, but the second she was up, her balance started to waver.

“Grab onto me.” He gripped her hips, offering stability as she reached for him.

As her short nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, the full scope of their current position hit him like a freight train. Tearing his eyes from the scrap of electric blue lace two inches from his face, he forced his focus back on her pants. He covered up her lower half as quickly as possible, zipping and buttoning everything into place before helping her back to the mattress.

“What shirt do you want to wear?”

“I don’t care. You pick.” She let her robe slide down both arms, leaving her bare from the waist up.

It took every ounce of concentration he had not to let his gaze wander to the studs in her nipples or the soft swell of her tits as he strapped her into one of the stretchy bras she preferred. Breathing got a little easier once those damn piercings were covered, so getting her shirt and shoes on was smooth sailing.

He helped her into the bathroom so she could work on her hair and makeup while he got dressed. After grabbing his bag, he ducked into her room and shucked his pajama pants. As they hit the floor, a clattering noise had him turning toward the closed bathroom door.

Then there was a thump.

Racing down the hall, he pushed through the door, meeting resistance after a few inches. “Frank?” Panic sparked down his spine and had him urging the door wider. “Frank, what happened?”

He reached through the crack, feeling for any sign of where she was and what was blocking his path. Near the floor, his hand found her shin. Using both hands, he moved her and the door together, finally getting enough room to wedge his large frame into the small space.

And what he saw inside, stopped his heart .

Frankie sat on the floor, her back propped against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. “Go away.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen.” He went down to his knees on the floor next to her. “Come here.” Reaching out, he scooped her up from where she sat, pulling her into his arms and tucking her against his chest as he rocked back onto his ass.

“I hate this.” She sniffled, continuing to swipe at the tracks lining her cheeks. “I hate not being able to take care of myself.”

“I know.” He curled one hand against the shaved side of her head, letting his fingers smooth over the fading design cut into the short hairs. “I hate you not being able to take care of yourself too.”

“Fucking go then,” she snapped. “No one’s making you stay here.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” JD held tight as she shoved at his chest. “So calm the fuck down.”

She lifted her chin. “How am I supposed to know how you mean it?”

“Because you know me, Frank.” He hesitated before admitting, “Maybe better than anyone.”

In the time before his father made him draw the line between them, they’d spent hours alone together. Talking about any and everything. Confessing sins and admitting mistakes. Offering up hopes and dreams. In the years since, she’d gone from a girl to a woman, growing into who she was meant to be.

And he’d been there to witness every second of it. Watching closer than he should have. Cheering on all her successes and wishing he could fix all her failures. Holding himself back from kicking the ass of every man lucky enough to come through her front door.

“I don’t know you.” She shook her head, eyes moving over his face. “Not anymore.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You stopped letting me know you a long time ago.”

“Frank, I—” He’d wanted to tell her why he did what he did for years. To explain the reason they could never be what he wanted them to be. But the words would never come out.

Just like now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffled, wiping at her face one more time before grabbing a tube of makeup off the floor and hoisting herself up, using the sink for leverage. “I just want to finish getting ready and go do what I have to do.”

He stared up at her as she leaned against the vanity, eyes on her reflection as she brushed mascara onto her lashes. After watching a few seconds, he asked, “Doesn’t that make your eyes itch?”

“No.” Her gaze dipped to his reflection, meeting his stare. “Does your beard make your face itch?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.” Not as much after he smeared lotion on it though. Which reminded him. “I thought you were gonna take care of this thing for me. ”

Frankie’s eyes stayed on him a second longer, dropping down his body before she went back to what she was doing, lips barely parted as she worked. “I thought you were gonna go get dressed so we could leave.” After finishing with one eye, she moved to the other. “Unless you’re gonna leave your dick hanging out all day.”

He’d been so focused on her—on the kind of upset he’d never witnessed from Frankie—he hadn’t noticed his cock swinging in the wind.

Shrugging it off, he stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. She hadn’t shied away from being naked in front of him, so he wasn’t going to worry about being naked in front of her. “Probably not all day.”

Frankie’s blue eyes fixed on the subject of their conversation, widening a little when it twitched under her scrutiny. After a few heartbeats she faced the mirror again, moving onto her eyebrows. “Looks like your beard isn’t the only thing that could use some grooming.”