Page 56 of Summer Breakdown (Training Seasons #2)

“I know you’re strong enough to do it without me,” Jasmine mumbles, but she sits up anyway. Frankie pulls her top off and replaces it with her own.

“Better?” she asks, and Jasmine’s face falls. Frankie takes her trousers off, because Jasmine may be crying, but it’ll be worse if Frankie wears outdoor clothes on her bed.

“I might be smelly,” Jasmine whispers, but she lets Frankie manoeuvre her until she’s resting on her chest.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Her hand winds its way into Jasmine’s hair, and Frankie lets herself breathe for the first time in so long.

She kisses the top of her head. Jasmine is here, and she’s thought about talking to her every second of the day.

She has hundreds of notes in her phone, but it’s not enough.

“Frankie,” she whispers. But Frankie sees straight through to what it is. A beg. A plea. Love me, please, tell me you love me.

“I love you,” Frankie says quietly. “I will always love you.”

Jasmine’s hands grip her waist, and Frankie’s voice shakes. “I wrote it down, but now I—now you’re right here, it doesn’t seem right. I—“

“Why haven’t you called me?” Jasmine asks. “It broke days ago. You’ve been to work, and you’ve seen people. I had to see you on Mali’s Instagram story, and you didn’t even text me.”

“I promise I just saw her on the way to pick up my prescription, I didn’t go to work.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be, I still hurt you,” Frankie whispers, her jaw tight for a moment.

“I wanted to fix whatever it is inside me that came up with that decision. I hurt you, and I needed someone to talk to about it, and the only person I want to talk to is you. I hurt you,” she says again, with a sniff, “and I can’t deal with it.

I don’t know how to deal with it, but I do want to because I love you, and I miss you, and the thought of not spending my life with you sends me into a blind panic, but that’s not why.

I’m worried that I’m crazier than the pills fight. ”

“Why?”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “The first time I had an episode, I hallucinated a little. I think. I tried to write it down after, but my memory is a little off with it. The doctors said it was okay if it was a bit, and if it got worse, then I’d need stronger pills, or maybe I’d get sectioned.”

Jasmine runs her fingers against Frankie’s waist. “Are you cold?” she asks. There are goosebumps on her skin, but it’s not due to the temperature.

“I’m okay,” she whispers .

Shoving the books out of the way, Jasmine pulls the duvet over them anyway. “Sorry,” she mutters, looking up at her. She smiles a little, and Frankie rubs her thumb against her cheek. “Carry on, sorry.”

They look at each other for a moment as Frankie lets the duvet consume them both. She takes a breath as she moves her foot, and Jasmine’s shin slips between her legs.

“This time was worse,” Frankie says. Jasmine holds on to her wrist. “I was so sure you were there. I was in blind panic, could not see a way out, and then I imagined your voice, and everything settled. It still took me days, but you were in every thought I had. I could see you. I’m—I need to tell my doctor.

My therapist knows, and she told me not to talk to you yet, and she’s going to be so mad I’m here, but I’ve done nothing for the past few days bar update her on it, and the way I miss you is engrained into my soul.

But what if I get sectioned? It would be what’s best, but I am beyond terrified. ”

“Frank,” Jasmine whispers, leaning up from her chest. “My girl, I was there.”

She tries not to sob at her use of my girl . Hope blooms in her chest so hard she feels illuminated. “What?”

Jasmine tilts her head, her hand against her jaw. “I was there.”

“How?”

“Ezra called me.”

“But that—“ It doesn’t make any sense. Frankie had already hurt her, days before. She has the kids to think about. Jasmine rubs her thumb over her jaw. She looks at her like she did when Frankie was screaming at the wall, when she was muttering to herself, when she was the worst version of herself.

“You came.”

“Of course I came.”

Frankie sobs, closing her eyes. “I love you,” Frankie says.

It will be true until her dying breath, but she’ll never say it again if Jasmine doesn’t want her to.

“I’m so sorry, and if you ever want to give me another chance, if you want to be friends for real, call me, okay?

It can be five months from now, or ten years.

I will be eighty-five, on a rocking chair on the front porch, waiting, and I will have loved you every second of every day.

Call me, okay? If you think about me at all.

Even if it’s because you saw someone bald. ”

Jasmine smiles softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. She owes her everything. “After that, I—it wasn’t because I didn’t want to call you. I wasn’t scared you’d think I was a fuck-up for it. I didn’t want to be Mike.”

Jasmine’s brow furrows. “What?”

“I know you’ve spent so long in a relationship you didn’t want to be in because he begged you to, and if you wanted, I would have been here on my knees the moment I knew what way was up.

But I have one chance to make anything right with you, and I am fucking terrified.

I will lose you and Marcel and Lani, and I can’t even comprehend life without you.

All because I hurt you—I know that I did—and I hate it.

I hate that you have ever been sad because of me, and I don’t know how to deal with it.

The pain of knowing I hurt you lingers. God, I wish I could have met you when I was better. ”

“Frankie.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not an excuse.

None of it is. I have bipolar; I have to learn to control it.

I’ve never had someone I wanted as badly as I want you, and I fucked it up, and I’m sorry.

I wrote to you every hour. I have so many messages I wanted to send you, and I knew you deserved better than that.

It’s in my calendar to come over tomorrow.

It has been every single day since I recognised Ezra on my couch.

And I kept pushing it back, because what can I say?

What justification could I possibly have for hurting you?

For not turning up for dinner when I told Lani I would be here?

Marcel’s choosing his classes, and I—“ She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You were sick, Frankie,” Jasmine replies.

Her brow is furrowed, but her hand remains like a balm against her chest. “Yeah, you have to control being bipolar but you do. You have the pills and therapy and decades worth of doctor’s appointments.

You have that ridiculous calendar that sends shivers down my spine.

My girl, you’re doing everything you can.

It’s okay to have episodes. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, not even slightly.

It’s just the first one we had together, and it was tough but we survived, right?

Next time we’ll be better. We just missed you. ”

“I love you,” Frankie says. “Whatever way you might want from me, you can have. If you want to be friends and never let me see the kids,” she says, “I could—no, I don’t think I could do that.

Not forever. When someone asks me what I want to do after coaching, I think about them.

Lani would be a teenager. Marc would almost be in his twenties.

That’s, like, a full-grown adult,” Frankie says, and the sound of Jasmine’s laugh illuminates her heart. She might start floating.

“Every single thing I want in my life has you in it. But if you want, I would die just to be your friend.”

Jasmine’s grip on her hand tightens. “You’re not allowed to talk about dying. Please.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“You can have your hilarious suicide jokes in, like, three weeks,” Jasmine says, with a small smile. Frankie loves her so much.

“You have changed every single part of my life,” Frankie whispers. “Parts I thought were fine. Parts I didn’t even know existed. You’ve made me a better person. I never—I used to love things. I know that.”

Frankie takes another deep breath, feeling herself sink into the mattress a little more. Jasmine stays just as close.

“My parents used to say I thought I was hard to love, but I didn’t think there was anything to love, no matter how easy I tried to make it.

And now,” Frankie says, her voice firming as she draws courage from the warmth of Jasmine’s presence, “I know that I love you. I don’t just love you—I trust you with the parts of me I never thought I’d let anyone see.

You’ve shown me that I can love. That I’m capable of it.

And, more than that, you’ve shown me that I deserve it too. ”

Jasmine hums, resting her head on her chest. Frankie feels itchy with the unknown.

It’s unfair because she did the same to Jasmine for weeks.

It was worse. Jasmine hasn’t told her she doesn’t love her.

In fact, Jasmine told her multiple times she was in love with her, and Frankie didn’t say it back.

“Can you text Ez?” Jasmine asks. “Let him know that you’re here.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I think my phone is downstairs.”

Jasmine groans as she goes to move, and she pulls her back.

“Mine’s on the bedside table.”

Frankie’s eyes burn with how bright Jasmine’s phone is. “Fuck me.”

“Sorry,” Jasmine mutters, her lips against her chest. “I put the brightness up so I didn’t fall asleep.”

Frankie’s heart breaks, but what else is new? She finds Ezra at the top of her messages. Constant texts back and forth about whether Frankie is alright. She swallows and forces herself not to scroll.

“He already text,” Frankie says. “It says colour?”

Jasmine hums. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, put green, please.”

Ezra replies before Frankie’s even put the phone down.

Ezra: good

Ezra: how are you ?

Frankie knew Jasmine and Ezra were friends. She hopes they were this close before Frankie forced them to be.

“Sweetheart, he replied,” Frankie says, turning the brightness down and passing Jasmine the phone. It seems like something she shouldn’t be looking in on.

Jasmine sits up a little, the back of her head resting against Frankie’s chest. Frankie tries not to look, but her eyes are drawn there.

Jasmine: I am ecstatic and far too tired

Jasmine: how are you?

Ezra: good

Ezra: tired, but I don’t think I’ll sleep, patterns all fucked

Jasmine: try and get a few hours – you’re a grouch when you’re tired

Ezra: yeah

Jasmine: are you at yours?

Ezra: yeah

Jasmine: I put some energy shots in your fridge last night

Jasmine: and some lasagna

Jasmine: remember to eat if you won’t sleep

Ezra: thanks

Ezra: go to sleep

Ezra: text me in the morning

Jasmine: night

Jasmine: 12:03 green

“Thanks,” she says, handing her the phone back like having almost military-precision texts with Ezra is a normal thing.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie replies. “For making you do all that.”

Jasmine spins, frowning at her. “It’s not an issue.”

Frankie pulls on her lip. “It’s not normal.”

“So? Nor is trying to sue your landlord because they won’t fix the lift,” Jasmine says. “Nor is looking for a new car because Lani’s wheelchair barely fits in your boot. Nor is researching teenager anxiety because Marcel looked nervous a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t want to make your life harder,” Frankie says.

“It’s not hard. It’s different. Does Lani make your life harder?”

“What?” Frankie asks, her eyes wide. “No, of course not.”

“So, why would you make it hard?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. Jasmine is ridiculous. Like she’s not here, knackered, half-asleep, and pretending Frankie isn’t a strain on her life.

“Chances are you’ll have another episode,” Jasmine says, “if you’re in my life as long as I hope you are. I want to be ready. Bipolar is something you are. We can’t change it. So, we’ll change the things we can. I want to know what to do to make it easier. We need—“ Her entire face drops.

Frankie rests her palm against her jaw.

“What? Sweetheart, what is it?”

“We need to find a way for you to tell me,” she says, with a choked cry.

God, she looks so sad. Frankie might never get up again.

“Because I can’t do that again. Not talking to me is fine, and if I know the warning signs, I’ll probably get it before you, but I can’t do you telling me you don’t love me. I can’t do that again.”

Frankie kisses her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Jasmine says. Frankie wipes the tears from her face. “I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“You can say anything,” Frankie whispers. “I was cruel and unkind and untrue, and you’ve had no one to talk to. Talk to me. Tell me.”

Jasmine looks at her with a kindness in her eyes Frankie would never deserve. She steels herself for what Jasmine will say. Frankie deserves to know the pain she put her through.

But Jasmine is the light of her life. She always has been.

Jasmine smiles, leaning against her. “Tell me something.”

“I love you.”

Jasmine hums and rests her head on the pillow next to her. They’re so close that their noses almost touch. Frankie might go cross-eyed if she keeps looking at her, but she’s doing it anyway.

“Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

Jasmine giggles, and Frankie’s heart floats to the ceiling. She doesn’t need it anymore; she gave it to Jasmine the moment she met her.

“Okay,” Jasmine says, clearing her throat. “Tell me again.”

Frankie smiles, her hand against her jaw. “I am so in love with you. I will love you today, tomorrow, and every day until the end of time.” Jasmine closes her eyes, and Frankie draws circles on her back. Jasmine did it for her the other day. It wasn’t made up.

Jasmine was there. And Frankie’s never letting her go again.