Chapter 15

Frankie and Christopher managed to get the bike out of the garage without being caught, and as Christmas approached far too rapidly, she dedicated even more hours to repairing the Harley so Christopher could give his father the gift. The teen had a knack for mechanics and picked up on things quickly, but the repairs took time, and to get it finished meant working on it alone. She didn’t mind, though. Well, not much. Not when she knew how much the bike meant to Grayson and now Christopher because of what it stood for.

The next two weeks flew by. Between her days at the garage, her evenings with Christopher, and the heartbreak that felt like a stone weighing her down, Frankie dragged through the days and fell into bed at night, exhausted.

Sometimes she wondered why she bothered working so hard on the project when Grayson hadn't contacted her since that night, but deep down she knew. Little good it did her.

Only she would fall in love with the man—again—only to get her heart broken. Again.

Her phone chimed and she glanced at the face.

We're almost home.

She glanced at Tank where he lay on the couch in her office and moved to pet the dog. "I'll be back soon, okay? Don't open your Christmas present without me."

Christopher ran the last few feet before turning to face Grayson.

"Remember what you said about us being honest with each other about everything? Not keeping secrets?"

Grayson felt his muscles tighten. "Yeah. Why? Chris, did you get into trouble again?"

"What? No. But Frankie is."

"She's in trouble? What's wrong?"

"She's sad, like hard-core sad."

"She said something to you?" He'd picked up his cell to call or text her a dozen times since their conversation on the beach, but something always stopped him. The fear of hurting her again after taking so much from her, the intimidating presence of her family and what would be their involvement in whatever future he might have with Frankie. The saying one married the family and not just the girl was true, and with Frankie's four sisters hating him because he’d practically shoved her on that convoy…

"No, but I thought you liked her? Loved her?"

"Christopher, it's complic—"

"Complicated. Yeah, that's what Frankie said, too. But why is it so complicated if you love each other? Isn't that enough?"

Grayson motioned for Chris to head home and fell into step beside him, walking to cool down. "It's not that simple. She made a decision because of me, one that got her severely injured and almost killed. Now she can't have kids and I’m responsible for that. I took that from her. You understand?"

"No. I mean, it's bad, but the colonel says when soldiers sign up, they know what they're getting into. Are you saying she didn't?"

"No. That's not what I'm saying."

"But you said she did it because of you like she didn't make the decision on her own. She's got a Purple Heart. Does that mean she shouldn't?"

"What? No, not at all."

"Good. Because I don't think she would've gone just because you hurt her feelings."

"Chris, I didn't mean to imply—"

"Because it's about duty, right? She did her duty as a soldier and helped her friend by taking his place."

"That's right."

"So why is it your fault?"

"Because it just is."

"How?"

"She can't have kids now, Chris. She was hurt that badly, and even though she made the decision to go, I still feel responsible."

"That's stupid. Well, it is," Chris said with a shrug when Grayson sent him a fatherly glare. "If you had gone and been hurt, would you blame Frankie?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then why do you blame you when she doesn't?"

It was way too early to be having this conversation, Christmas morning or not. "Chris, I don't want to hurt her any more."

"But you love her."

"Yes, okay? I do. I love Frankie and it's because I love her and feel responsible for her getting hurt that I think it's best if I stay away."

"But that's stupid. I thought adults were supposed to be smart?" Chris kicked a rock in the road. "Frankie can't have kids, and you feel bad about it. So you’re saying adopted kids aren't real kids?"

Had. He'd been had. Set up by a teenager too smart for his own good.

"Because you said blood doesn't matter."

"It doesn't."

"So if she doesn't blame you, and blood doesn't matter, what's the problem? If you feel so bad about hurting her, don't. Go make her happy again by loving her back like you say you do."

Grayson tucked his head to his chest as the impact and depth of Christopher's words sank in. Could it be that easy? Was he making a fool of himself again by not honoring Frankie's feelings—and his own—and moving forward instead of living in the past with things that couldn't be undone?

"Dad, if I asked for something for Christmas and it's the only thing I want, would you do it?"

"It's Christmas morning, bub. It's a little late for last-minute shopping."

"You don't have to shop for this. Just… talk to Frankie. Carolina told me the story about how you and Frankie keep meeting up with each other. Isn’t that cool?”

“It is.”

“Then how many times does it have to happen before you get why it’s happening?"

Grayson inhaled and clamped a hand on Chris's shoulder. How many times, indeed. Hadn’t he said basically the same thing to Frankie when they’d met up in Carolina Cove? "I think it just sank in. Thank you. Let's get inside and see if Santa showed, shall we?"

"Wait."

Christopher glanced at his cell phone and then down the street.

"What's going on?"

His son grinned. "We have to wait on your Christmas present."

Grayson stared down the street but didn't see anything. "Do, uh, I want to know how you paid for this present?"

"Dad, seriously?"

Grayson held up his hands in surrender and stood patiently, following Christopher's anxious stare to take in the empty, quiet street. A few lights were coming on at the neighbors’ houses as people woke up, but there was nothing unusual happening that drew notice.

Nothing… except a low rumble in the distance. Christopher grinned and shifted his stance, turning so that he stared at Grayson.

The rumble grew louder and the single light on the front of the motorcycle grew brighter the closer it got to them. Grayson sucked in a sharp breath, glancing at the closed garage door and back at the bike slowing to turn into their drive.

Frankie.

"Which one of them is the present?" he asked Christopher, throat tight and choked at the sight of the woman he loved and the bike he loved both there like… like it was Christmas morning and his wish rolled up in one.

"Do you like it? I had to lie. I wasn't working at the pier house all the time like I said, but with Frankie fixing the bike. Do you like your surprise?"

The air whooshed from his lungs and he stood there, completely overcome, because while he'd been so stupid and keeping his distance from Frankie out of some sort of twisted honor, she had been working with Christopher to restore something precious to him. Loving him despite his stupidity.

"Dad?"

"I love it," he said, barely able to get the words out over the lump in his throat. "Both of them." He released his hold on Chris's shoulder and stumbled forward. Frankie was in the process of lowering the kickstand, but he gripped her shoulder and tilted her head up to face him. He could see the wariness in her eyes and vowed he'd never put it there again. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said, lowering his head to kiss her but stopping just short of her mouth, "but I will spend the rest of my life loving every part of you if you'll give me the chance."

She lowered her lashes over her eyes and smiled. "It's about time you came to your senses."

He sealed his lips over hers and kissed her so long they grossed Christopher out and he announced he was going inside to check out his presents.

Grayson chuckled and ended the embrace. "You are an amazing woman."

"Oh, yeah? Combat boots and all?"

He stroked his thumb over her lip, following the movement with his eyes. "One day soon that's all you're going to wear for me."

"Mmm," she said, sighing the sound against his mouth. "Merry Christmas."

He tugged her off the bike and tucked her to his side. “Come on. I have a present for you.”

“You do?”

He’d kept his mother’s jewelry in a safe in the house, and he couldn’t imagine anyone but Frankie wearing it. He didn’t have a ring to give her—yet—but there was a diamond pendant on a silver chain he couldn’t wait to place around her neck as a promise of what was to come now that they both finally realized their love was worth the risk.

Want to read more about the Cohen sisters? Read a short excerpt of Holland’s story LOST LOVE FOUND:

Holland’s heart pounded in her chest the entire walk to the elevator and the ride to the third floor. Which was crazy because she wasn’t a young girl getting asked to sit at the lunch table with her first crush. At thirty-three, dating wasn’t new. It was the fact this wasn’t a date but she could easily see herself saying yes to Max should he ask. That was the issue, because she’d turned down the last couple of invitations she’d received due to sheer lack of interest.

She rushed into her room and stripped down, wishing she hadn’t crumpled up the blouse she’d had on earlier. The pants were salvageable but she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. So why was she? He was bored, passing the time in a houseful of women, and she was the only one relatively close to him in age. It wasn’t interest that had drawn the invitation but necessity, unless he planned to spend the remainder of the evening alone or go out for some fun on an island not yet awakened by the summer tourist season.

She rummaged through the drawers holding the clothes she’d brought with her and found a pair of leggings. Thankfully she’d brought a super-soft turquoise top. Was she trying too hard not to impress? Tough call. But she didn’t want to look frumpy, either.

“Ugh, why is this so difficult?” she muttered, yanking on the leggings and donning the shirt, because with all of her debating, she wasted precious time. Dressed, she went to the bathroom. Her hair was best left braided until she could wash out the salt, but she did a light touch-up on her mascara and lip gloss and deemed herself as passable.

Her phone chimed and glanced at the screen. Ireland.

Heard you scored a local assignment. Doing okay?

Yes. Fine. Heading downstairs to schmooze a bit.

After all, Ireland didn’t need to know specifics. Or that Max had nothing to do with the job itself.

Fun! Any single, good-looking men involved?

Her sister would have to ask that question, wouldn’t she? Ever since Ireland had fallen in love again, she’d been on a mission to set Holland up with one of her husband’s friends, but thankfully the timing had never worked out.

Client is 92. Enough said, she texted back. Because if she opened the door by mentioning a super-sexy, presumably single Max, Holland knew she’d probably have to answer a bevy of texts from all of her sisters instead of heading downstairs to get to know the man in question.

She left her phone behind in her room and made her way to the elevator, all too aware of that pulse-racing thing repeating itself on the way down to the lower level. She heard the billiard balls clanking together as she approached the room, and when she walked inside, Max racked them.

“Heard the elevator,” he said simply.

“So I see.”

“You any good?”

“We’ll have to find out.” It had been weeks since she’d played, but she and all of her sisters were good at the game thanks to way too many hours on bases with little to do and a father determined his girls would be able to hold their own in a male-driven world.

“You break.”

Mmm. He was playing the gentleman, giving her the advantage. It could help. Because while she wasn’t a man-trashing feminist, she refused to deliberately lose just because it might bruise his ego. She also had a feeling Max was the type of man who’d be able to tell if she threw the game, which meant a fifty-fifty chance of him losing respect for her for doing so.

She chose a cue and chalked up, forcing herself to take a breath and slow her heart rate. Steady hands were needed.

Holland did a few practice slides of the cue and exhaled slowly once more before letting the cue strike. The crack of sound seemed deafening, and she worried that she might have disturbed Violet upstairs, but given the size of the house, it undoubtedly wasn’t an issue.

Several balls hit the pockets and she had a choice. “Solids.” She’d always looked better in solids than stripes.

As she moved around the table and chose her next target, she felt Max’s eyes on her.

“I get the feeling you’re better at this than you let on.”

His words brought a curl to her lips and she lined up her shot. And got it.

Max chuckled, the sound wry.

“Glad I didn’t make a bet with you on this.”

Mmm. That could be interesting. “It’s not too late.”

His gaze narrowed on her.

“That sounds like a challenge. What do you have in mind?”

CONTINUE READING LOST LOVE FOUND, THE FIFTH BOOK IN THE SEASIDE SISTERS SERIES! HAPPY READING!

THE SEASIDE SISTERS SERIES:

THE LAST GOODBYE