“The only person who hurt me” – I looked him up and down – “is you.”
He flinched.
“You’re right,” he swallowed. “I’m so sorry about the way I treated you, Frankie. I said horrible things to hurt you to get you back for hurting me.”
My jaw dropped. “What did I do?”
“You treated me like a stranger, Frankie. At the school, you looked right at me then just walked away . . . or ran.” He didn’t look away from me. “That shit hurt me coming from you.”
I dropped my gaze to my feet and stared at my tiled floor.
“I didn’t mean to,” I admitted. “I just . . . I just can’t believe you’re here, it’s really surprised me. I would never purposely set out to hurt you, Risk. You know I wouldn’t. I was just so shocked to see you.”
He sighed, long and deep.
“I was an arsehole.” I looked up as he lifted a hand to his head and ran it through his white-blond hair. “I was in my feelings about how you treated me at the school. I went to the diner and I treated you horribly to make myself feel better, but it didn’t work. I only felt worse. I’m so fucking sorry about how I treated you, Frankie. I swear I am. That wasn’t me . . . you know that wasn’t me.”
He was telling the truth.
That was one of the things I had always loved about Risk: when he told the truth, he didn’t just tell it with his words, his eyes told the truth too. He was looking so intently at me that it made my heart skip a beat. I quickly realised then that Risk Keller was standing in the entryway of my kitchen . . . a kitchen that used to be his too.
“If I forgive you,” I eyed him. “Will you promise to never treat me, or anyone, like that again? Acting all high and mighty doesn’t suit you, rock star.”
The second I called him his old nickname, his whole body practically deflated.
“I promise.”
“Then I forgive you.”
His shoulders sagged. “If I ever act like that again, I’ll bend over to make it easier for you to shove your foot up my arse.”
Surprise laughter left me, startling Oath, who was behind the kitchen door likely eating from his food dish. He darted around the door then out of the room between Risk’s legs. Risk jumped with fright at the sight of him and banged the crown of his head on the top of the door-frame. He cursed, placed both hands on the top of his head and hopped from side to side in pain. I hurriedly grabbed my foot stool from its hook on the wall, opened it up then placed it next to Risk on the floor. I stood on the top step of the stool and ended up being the same height as Risk.
“Let me see,” I said, trying to push his hands away. “Risk, drop your hands.”
“It hurts!”
“I know, you big baby.” I pushed his hands away. “Let me see.”
He dropped his hands and once I saw he wasn’t bleeding, I placed my bag of peas on his head. He hissed as he reached up and rotated the bag around, trying to kill the pain he felt. I hopped down from my stool, folded it back up and put it back on its hook on the wall.
“Just so you’re aware,” Risk grumbled. “That was possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of cute shit.”
My lips twitched.
“I’m five foot,” I shrugged. “I can’t reach the top cupboards so I need the foot stool.”
“Like I said,” Risk said. “Cutest shit ever.”
I shook my head. “D’you want a cuppa tea?”
“Yes, please,” Risk nodded. “Then we can sit down and you can tell me who hit you.”
Tell him that Owen Day hit me? Absolutely not. I could foresee what would happen if I did that. Risk would take it personally because of his history with Owen, he’d probably show up at his house and beat him unconscious, getting his revenge for all the pain he put him through, and there was only one place that would land Risk. Jail. No, I wasn’t telling him what happened to me. Not a chance.
“No one hit me,” I stressed. “I literally walked into a door leaving the hospice by not watching where I was going. I’m so tired I can barely stand upright, Risk. I do clumsy shit like this all of the time, only I’ve never gone and actually hurt myself to this extent before.”
“D’you promise?”
I felt a little sick when I said, “I promise.”
Risk nodded once. “Okay then, I believe you.”
It left a foul taste in my mouth lying to him, but it was for his own good.
“Thank you.” I busied myself with getting two cups of tea ready. “Oath. Come to Mummy, baby boy.”
Oath remained in my bedroom.
“Oath,” Risk repeated. “You called your cat Oath?”
“He has red hair,” I shrugged. “It seemed fitting to name him after Blood Oath.”
Risk snorted as he sat down at the kitchen table. “When did you get him?”
“Eight years ago,” I answered. “A neighbour couldn’t find a home for him. He was the runt of the litter, I fell in love with him when I saw his big electric blue eyes so I took him home with me. He’s been here ever since.”
“You always were a sucker for blue eyes.”
His more than anyone’s.
“Yup,” I played it cool. “He’s my ginger pal. He’s a scaredy cat though . . . kind of like you.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Risk protested mildly. “He just caught me off guard is all.”
I grinned, keeping my back to him.
“Okay, tough guy.”
I made our tea, turned and carried the cups over to the table, placing one on a coaster in front of me then the other in front of Risk. When I sat down and
