The problem was . . . I didn’t know how to do that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRANKIE
Nine years ago . . .
My entire life had changed in seven days.
My every waking hour was consumed by my mum. A week after her accident I had maybe seen Risk for a total of ten hours because whenever I got home, I usually went straight to bed. Most nights Risk would be in the studio until late so when he came home, I was already asleep. When I woke up for my morning shift at Mary Well’s diner, he would already be gone to work.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever, just until my mum was in a routine and could move around easier, but I missed my boyfriend and I knew he missed me too. I wanted to spend some time with him so I left Mum and Dr O’Rourke’s home – she had just moved in with him so he could keep a constant eye on her – just after six in the evening, exactly one week after her illness was revealed to me, and I walked the twenty minutes to Cumberland Road, where May lived. It was pitch black outside, lightly raining and freezing.
I didn’t tell Risk I was stopping by, I wanted to surprise him.
When I reached May’s home, it suddenly began to pour from the sky. I hurried into the garden and up to the studio next to the house and silently let myself in since I knew the door’s key code. The studio wasn’t huge, but the lads made the space work by only using whatever instruments they needed at the current moment.
They hung nearly everything else on the walls to keep them out of the way. It would have been easy for them to find a studio in a big town not far away and rent some hours of studio time, but that was money the band didn’t have. All of their money went on upgrading their third-hand instruments to decent second-hand ones. It was a struggle, but a band was only as good as their instruments and because Blood Oath were virtually unknown, they needed to work hard to get better equipment to improve their sound.
I heard Risk’s voice as I closed the door behind me and, from the tone, he didn’t sound too pleased.
“You’re not listening to us,” Hayes sighed. “We have to leave in two days and you still haven’t told her. Telling her is the right thing to do.”
“He’s right, Risk,” May grumbled. “Look, I know you think you’re doing the right thing but the last thing Frankie needs right now is another massive surprise.”
I remained behind the stack of amplifiers that were piled up near the door. I had no idea what conversation I had walked in on, but it had something to do with me. The familiar sensation of dread that settled in the pit of my stomach when Dr O’Rourke told me my mum was injured and sick reared its ugly head and smirked at me.
“Both of you have no clue what you’re talking about,” Risk snapped at his friends. “Her mum almost died in a car accident and she found out in the same hour that she has Alzheimer’s too. Telling her that the band got offered a record deal now is not the right time.”
“But she’ll be happier than anyone on this planet for us,” May argued. “Frankie is our number one fan. She is the first Sinner, she loves us.”
“Being signed isn’t what my issue is, mate,” Risk grunted. “That isn’t the hard part.”
“Then what is?”
“Moving country,” Hayes answered May. “He doesn’t know how to tell her that.”
I tried to understand what I was hearing, but I couldn’t. Blood Oath had been offered a record deal? When had this happened? And they had to move to another country? Which country? Why was I finding out about it by accident?
I felt trapped in the small space so I turned and opened the door to the studio to get fresh air. I heard a noise behind me and when I looked over my shoulder, I locked eyes with May and his face dropped. I turned and hurried outside into the rain and cold of the January evening.
“Frankie!” I heard May shout. “Fuck! Risk, Frankie heard us! She knows!”
I broke out into a jog as I rushed away from the studio, my mind running wild. I gasped when I heard footsteps behind me and then felt arms come around him, bringing me to an abrupt stop. I struggled until lips pressed against my ear and his voice said, “Please, let me explain. Please.”
“You want to explain now?” I repeated. “You were bloody adamant in there that I wasn’t supposed to know anything of what you said.”
“Cherry, please,” Risk pleaded, using the name only he called me. “Just listen to me.”
He turned me to face him and brushed my wet hair back out of my face. I looked up at him, blinking as the rain fell heavier from the night sky. We were standing under a broken streetlight that flickered every few seconds. The wind howled around us and the cold air of the night burned my lungs as I inhaled.
“What’s goin’ on?” I demanded. “I don’t understand any of what I heard.”
“Come inside out of the rain—”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is goin’ on!”
Risk leaned his head back and exhaled, his hot breath fogging the air around him. When he looked back down at me, water ran from his matted, sopping wet hair down his sculpted face.
“The day your mum had
