He would be okay, I knew he would be . . . me on the other hand, I would have to remember to put one foot in front of the other and tell myself to breathe. I would go to my quiet place where nothing was wrong. Mum wouldn’t be sick, Risk wouldn’t be leaving and I would be calm, collected and happy. All I had to do was remember to breathe.
In and out and in and out.
Just keep breathing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FRANKIE
Present day . . .
Three in the morning.
I found myself walking along Southwold pier after just arriving from London. When I fled the dressing room, Tobias followed me. He took a taxi with me back to Risk’s townhouse and saw me safely to my car, which was parked in Risk’s driveway. Tobias tried to convince me to sleep on my decision to walk away from Risk, but he and I both knew the only thing that would help Risk was me being far away from him. What happened a few hours ago could have been avoided if only we both were completely honest with each other.
Risk . . . he wouldn’t have relapsed and I wouldn’t be so broken.
It was nearing midnight when I left London, and I reached Southwold just as it turned 3 a.m.. I couldn’t go home, not yet. I needed to be out in the open so I could breathe. I was having trouble processing what had happened. I didn’t understand how a wonderful night had turned into such a pitiful nightmare. I kept replaying the look on Risk’s face when he realised I didn’t know his songs . . . or my songs. He wrote songs for me . . . and I didn’t know them.
That knowledge hurt me so I knew it killed him.
“He looked devastated,” I murmured as I walked along the wooden boards of the pier. “I made him feel that way.”
I believed what I had said right before I fled Wembley . . . I wasn’t right for him.
We weren’t good together. I really didn’t know if we were meant to be because we had only been back in one another’s lives for a week and the level of shit that had kicked off was unbelievable. It was a bad omen if I had ever seen one. I sniffled, used the sleeve of my coat to wipe my nose. The top of it was sore from blowing and rubbing it so much with tissue on the drive from London. I knew it was likely scorched red.
I wrapped my arms around my middle and walked. I could hear the crashing sound of the waves under the pier and I could hear laughter and singing from somewhere up the beach. The pubs would have recently closed for the night so people tended to wander around town a little before they headed home. I paid them no mind. I walked all the way to the end of the pier like I usually did and my heart jumped when I saw a large man leaning against the rail at its end.
He heard me approach and when he turned my gut twisted.
“Owen.”
“Frankie,” he said, sounding surprised to see me. “Bit late for ye to be wanderin’ along the pier, isn’t it? All alone too.”
I looked around the empty pier and the space where I normally found solace suddenly felt like it was a bottomless pit. The small buildings along it were closed and, apart from myself and Owen, the place was devoid of people.
“I didn’t think anyone would be down here.” I shifted. “Like you said, it’s late.”
“And yet here ya are.”
I exhaled a breath. “It’s funny, because I was just about to leave.”
“Hold your horses.” He rolled his eyes. “No need to run off.”
I had every need to run off. I knew better than to be left alone with such a cruel, weak man who solved his problems with his fists when it came to women and children.
“How’s your mum?”
I didn’t move a muscle.
“If you say a word against her, Owen . . .”
He looked out at the ocean as my threat hung in the air.
“I’m not that heartless,” he said. “I know how it feels to watch someone you love die day by day until they’re gone.”
My throat nearly closed up.
“I have enough on my mind right now,” I rasped. “I don’t need you reminding me that my mum is dying.”
I didn’t need anyone reminding me of something that was always at the back of my mind.
Owen shrugged. “I heard somethin’ happened with yerself and the boy tonight . . . some just barely legal kids were in the pub yappin’ on about it. Some rubbish about a concert.”
I tensed. I shouldn’t have been surprised that what happened was public knowledge but I was. “What happened is no one’s business.” I glared at him. “Especially not yours.”
Owen pushed away from the rail.
“You and the boy have had some huge fallin’ out and ya still jump t’his defence?”
“Always.” I straightened. “He could hang me out to dry, Owen, and I would always defend him from you. I didn’t do it when I was child, I should have, but I didn’t. I swear to God that I’ll do it from now until the day I die. You’ll never get to say so much as ‘boo’ to him if I have any say about it.”
Owen tilted his head.
“Ye didn’t tell him I wanted to see him, did ya?”
The gall of this man truly astounded me.
“I told you I wouldn’t!” I snapped. “I told you.”
“And I fuckin’ told you t’give ’im that message.”
“Well, I didn’t give it and I won’t.” I lifted my chin. “I don’t care that you hit me or if you do it again. He doesn’t owe you a fucking thing, Owen.
