Frankie hadn’t considered sticking her finger down her throat since she was fifteen years old and Melissa Carlisle told her she was too chicken to try. But waiting for the social worker to show up, inspect her house, deem her worthy to care for three boys she’d already been caring for, was causing a storm in her stomach that might only be relieved by throwing up.
She was on step four of six. Leslie had been a saint, helping her with the paperwork and the initial process. She was right, thinking that the woman would make a good long-term friend. But she’d signed over Frankie’s file when it was time for the home visit. Conflict of interest and lack of objectivity and all that. The counters gleamed when Frankie walked into the kitchen. She’d set her weak attempt at baking on the counter. The cookies looked scary and a bit misshapen, but she’d snuck a taste and they weren’t that bad. They weren’t Travis cookies, but they’d do. They’d show she tried. That she cared. Right?
When her phone rang, she checked the caller ID. She was avoiding calls from anyone that shared her last name. When all of this was over, she’d tell them one way or the other. But she didn’t want their opinions, or their disdain, while she was in the middle of it all. Ryan’s smiling, partially exasperated face showed on her screen. She’d taken the shot while he was trying to teach her the difference between a clean-up hitter and a clutch hitter.
“Hey,” she said, her voice steady even if her hands were not.
“Hi. I’m just waiting for Max and Daniel at the airport. I missed your voice,” he said. Butterflies tickled her ribcage. They liked the sound of his voice. So did the rest of her body.
“That’s a good thing to say.”
“Don’t be nervous, Frankie,” he said, reading her even over the phone.
“Okay. And you don’t be so good looking or funny or good at baseball, all right?”
He laughed and the sound tamed the butterflies in her stomach. “Everything is going to be okay.” He sounded so sure and she wished she could grab some of his confidence and make it her own. His certainty gave her strength and she hoped that was enough. Her fingers tightened on the phone. She started to ask the question that had been lodged in her throat for days.
“Ryan, what if…they’re going to ask me a lot of questions.”
“I know, honey. You’ll do great.”
“They’ll ask about relationships.” The words burned coming out. She felt like she was saddling him with baggage. Here, take this: three kids and me. No pressure.
“As far as I know, you’re in one.” His voice still held traces of amusement, but it was tighter. Each word was more pointed.
“What if they ask about your involvement with the boys and the impact it might have on them if we, if you decide, if we don’t…” She didn’t want to say it. Saying it could make it true. Or if she said it and it came true, she’d be sure that she was the reason why. She’d spend the rest of her life wishing that she hadn’t said it out loud. The room felt too warm; her clothes too tight. She stood perfectly still, wishing she’d said nothing.
“Frankie.” There was so much emotion in that one word. It was there. For both of them and neither of them were brave enough to say it. But she felt it. She heard it and she latched on, let it soothe the tension in her shoulders. With just his tone, he calmed her from the inside out.
“We’re together. There’s nowhere else I want to be. There’s no one else, Frankie. That’s where we are.”
Her heart actually squeezed hard enough to make her chest ache. Pressing her fist to her breastbone, she pushed, trying to counteract the pressure that was building. There was a knock at the door.
“I have to go.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your brother and your friend.”
She took a few deep breaths as she set her phone down. She’d never been a particularly clingy woman, but she felt needy right now. There were too many things, too much need, and she didn’t want to push it all onto Ryan.
Straightening her shoulders and telling herself that she was a successful, capable woman, she walked purposefully to the door. She didn’t even stop to check that her blouse buttons hadn’t popped open or that her skirt wasn’t twisted. She was determined to exude confidence. Swinging the door open, a smile in place, she gave a small squeak.
“Aw! You dressed up for me,” Chloe squealed. She rushed in, wrapping Frankie in a hug. Frankie hugged her back tightly, swallowing the lump in her throat and shedding her confidence.
“What are you doing here?” she said, extricating herself from Chloe’s embrace. Chloe Warner was six foot one and excessively feminine, not an easy thing to pull off when you towered over most people. Frankie shut the door, nerves waging an uproar in her stomach.
“I came to see my best friend. I missed you. And you’re going through all this; you sounded so down, I just wanted to be here. I told you I was coming,” she said. She filled the room just with her personality, never mind the oversized suitcase she dragged in.
“I have a social worker coming Chloe. She’s going to be here any minute,” Frankie said, trying to trap the panic in her throat so it wouldn’t explode.
“Okay. Bad timing. Sorry, hon. I can go into town, at least I think that was a town I passed on the way here. There were, like, three restaurants and a corner store.”
Frankie stepped in to hug her again, feeling like a child hugging an adult.
“That was the town. There’s not much to do there. Um. Oh, I know. Hang on,” Frankie said, running from the living room as fast as her pencil skirt would allow. She grabbed her keys and ran her hand over the one Ryan had given her for his house. In case of emergencies, he’d said. That’s what neighbors did. She bit back the smile and brought the keys to Chloe.
“Go next door.”
“Ooh, I get to meet him right away?”
“Ryan’s getting his brother and friend from the airport. He won’t be home for a couple of hours. Don’t move his stuff or try to feng shui anything,” Frankie warned.
Chloe took the key, her tinkling laughter breaking through some of the stress Frankie felt herself drowning in.
“I won’t move anything. In fact, if you think he’d be okay with it, what I’d love is a shower and maybe a nap,” Chloe said.
“He won’t mind. You’ll be able to tell which room is his and which ones are guest rooms,” Frankie told her, herding her toward the door.
“Guest rooms, plural?”
“Totally plural. Also plural jetted tubs, waterfall showers, and fireplaces.”
“Good Lord, if you change your mind, can I have him?” Chloe pretended to swoon. Frankie playfully pinched the arm she’d gripped and Chloe laughed again.”Trust me, I won’t be changing my mind.”
Picking up her suitcase, Chloe smiled. “You sound sure. I like that. Breathe, honey. Text me when you’re done,” Chloe said.
She kissed her cheek and walked over to Ryan’s, waving when she got to his driveway. Frankie shut the door behind her once again and sighed against it, clunking her head against the wood. Her breath stuttered out and she dragged another deep breath in. She had this. Everything was going to be okay because there was no other choice. They’d become a makeshift family. Like Ryan had said of his teammates, any one of them stood out on their own. But together, they shone.