A week into their morning boot camps, Frankie found herself alone with Christopher when Grayson got a call from work saying he needed to report for an emergency. She assured him she'd be okay, but she could tell Grayson was nervous about leaving her to face Christopher's anger and angst alone.
She kept pace with the kid for a while, but when it kept getting slower, she decided a little egging was in order. "You really gonna let a girl outrun you? Pick up the pace."
"I hate this. I should just let them take me away. He'd be happy then."
"If you really believe that, you're more clueless than I thought." The early-morning sunrise was just beginning to lighten the sky in purple hues.
"Whatever."
"You don't believe me?"
"No. He's not my dad."
Grayson told her he'd tried multiple times to talk to Christopher over the course of the last week, but Christopher would rather sit in the empty spare bedroom staring at the walls than hear him out. "Look, kid, do you think he’d fight for you like he has if he didn’t love you? Work so hard to keep you out of trouble with the police?"
Christopher huffed and puffed.
"He just doesn't want to look bad by getting rid of me."
"Uh-huh. Clueless. Word to the wise, kid, no one cares these days. Everyone has something they're dealing with whether it's sickness or jobs or kids in trouble. It would be easy for your dad to pawn you off, but that's not what good parents do. Do you know how hard it is to keep going when you aren't grateful? Thankful? When you spew hate more often than not? To get up in the morning and do this when he's got a super stressful job and a slew of other responsibilities where people’s lives depend on him? That's love in action. Now pick up the pace."
"But—"
"Pick up the freaking pace!"
Christopher picked up speed as ordered and they fell into a more natural stride. The kid's endurance had increased dramatically in a short amount of time. After they sprinted to the halfway mark and turned to go back, Frankie said, "What do you know about that bike of his?"
Christopher cursed and Frankie ordered him to stop, drop, and give her twenty.
"What?"
"You will not use that kind of language around me or around my father's business and employees. Drop."
Christopher glared at her and Frankie knew she was pushing him hard, but she was sick of hearing him complain and didn't want him to be the kid her father's customers talked about later.
And she could use the breather from the spasm in her side and twenty would give it.
The teenager glared at her and counted off the push-ups. When he finished, they started running again. “What do you know about your dad’s bike?”
"Only that I'm glad my mom took a bat to it. He loves it more than he ever loved us."
Frankie shook her head. "Once again, clueless. Yeah, he loves that bike, but it's painfully obvious that you don't know why."
Christopher ran a ways in silence. "Tell me."
"Uh-uh. Not my story to tell but it's one you'll want to hear. So ask. Got it?"
They made the left turn onto K Avenue and headed toward the pier just as the sun was starting to truly crack the surface. "We're going to miss it. Beat me there and I'll buy you breakfast after we meet the colonel on the beach."
The boy kicked it up big-time and Frankie was no match for his long legs as he booked it toward the pier. Christopher was stretching and staring out at the water when she finally caught up.
"I want the works," he said, grinning at her with full-blown teen ego. "Bacon, eggs, waffles. Everything."
She leaned her hands on her thighs and bent, trying to catch her breath. "Yeah, yeah. But now that I know what you can do, that pace is going to get faster even if I have to ride a bike beside you to keep up."
That evening, Grayson knocked on Frankie's door and waited, flowers in hand. The door swung wide, and he smiled at the way her eyes widened at the surprise.
"Going to a funeral?"
He chuckled at her statement and dropped a kiss on her forehead before lowering his head to steal a kiss. "Brat. I'm sorry I left you to face his bad mood this morning."
"Yeah, well, that kid can run. You need to get him into track or cross country when all of this is over. I, um, didn't expect to see you."
"Your dad called and asked if Christopher could work, so I don’t have guard duty." He peered over her shoulder, frowning when he spotted Tank's dog bowl on the floor beside the coffee table with a spoon in it. Tank sat by the bowl, licking his chops. "Is this a bad time? What's happening here?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing."
Somehow he didn't think that was nothing. "You going to take these?" Grayson handed over the flowers and watched as Frankie paused to take a sniff before moving to the kitchen. She found a vase and put them in water before moving to join him on the couch.
"How's the patient?"
"Okay now." He shifted to lean sideways, facing her. "How was your day?" He liked this. This seemingly unimportant important conversation that couples had every day. Frankie might argue their conversation was friendly, but he'd take this in whatever form it came in.
"Got some new business today, which is always good. And I finally hired a new mechanic to replace the one I had to fire."
"Another vet?"
"You know it."
Something else to love about her. Frankie fiercely wanted to help those who'd served their country and returned to find jobs had been lost, or those who struggled with PTSD symptoms and struggled to keep afloat because of it. It was something the colonel had mentioned in passing several times as only a proud papa could. "You sleeping?" he asked, brushing his thumb gently over the shadows beneath her eyes.
"Ah, Dr. Grayson is in the house."
"I'm no doctor, just a concerned boyfriend."
Her dark eyebrows rose. "Boyfriend, you say? As in you're a boy and a friend?"
"For now," he said, letting her think whatever she needed to so long as it kept conversations like this one going. He slid his hand along her neck and gently tugged her toward him, brushed his lips over hers while holding her gaze. "Until I can get you to agree to more."
Wariness flashed over her features, but he refused to let it daunt his determination. He sealed his lips over hers, relishing the hitch in her breathing and the tiniest of moans she released when he deepened the kiss. "Come here."
Tank grumbled from where he sat nearby. Grayson ignored the dog, but when Tank went on a minute-long grumbling spree that left Frankie groaning, he ended the kissing and turned his irritation to the dog. "Yes, I'm macking on your girl. What's the problem?"
Another low grumble from Tank left them both laughing.
"Ignore him. He's hungry."
Grayson eyed the bowl full of food. "So why doesn't he eat?"
Frankie groaned and tried to bury her head, but the blazing color filling her face had Grayson pulling away to see the sight and determine the source. "What?"
"It's awful. You'll laugh."
"After this week, I need a good laugh. And you are crazy adorable when you blush. I don't think I've ever seen you do that."
"Stop it."
"Why won't he eat?"
"Because… he wants me to feed him."
"Feed him?" Grayson stared at her, not comprehending until he looked back at the bowl and spotted the spoon once more. "You mean you actually…?"
Frankie burrowed her head into his chest as Grayson laughed so hard he shook the couch. She lightly punched him and he laughed harder, squeezing her tight and burying his smile in her hair. His rough, tough, military brat and mechanic girlfriend was a total pushover when it came to her highly trained war dog. It gave him hope that he'd wear her down and she'd forgive him completely for being an utter fool.
"Stop already. I know it's crazy."
He kissed her head, her cheek, stole another kiss from her lips before he pushed her away. He grabbed the bowl from the floor so he could slide off the couch and then pulled her down beside him. "I have to see this."
"You can't tell anyone. Ever."
He handed her the bowl and watched as she hefted the spoon in Tank's direction.
Grayson knew he would've fallen in love with her in that moment… if he wasn't already.