Chapter Twenty-Six
Holden
It was well after dinnertime before he surfaced from the research rabbit hole he’d fallen down with Cordelia’s cult. They were larger than even she’d realized, having very sneakily spread from the west over the past two decades, with ‘churches’ in nearly every state now, and each church reporting to a regional sect, led by a prophet.
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In the southeast, that prophet was Harlan Redding. One of the many sons of Silas Redding, the so-called prophet at the top of the food chain. The internet had plenty of whispers about the Redding family and their cruelty, and he’d been able to unearth multiple investigations into the abuse happening within the cult, but there was frustratingly little concrete evidence he could find.
Cordelia might be able to help with that. He had some contacts at the federal level who would love to talk to her. But given her initial reaction just to hearing their name, he was hesitant to bring up the idea of her testifying.
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A problem for later, he decided, leaning back in his chair to stretch out the knots in his shoulders. For now, he was going to go home, maybe order a pizza. See if he couldn’t talk Frankie into watching a movie with him. Even though they were supposed to be keeping things platonic, she was still his favorite person to hang out with. Her movie night commentary couldn’t be beat, as far as he was concerned.
Although, now that he thought of it, he hadn’t heard from her all day. Frowning, he picked up his phone to double-check, swearing under his breath when he saw the call from her that had gone straight to voicemail. According to the timestamp, she’d called while he’d been in his meeting with Cordelia, which was why he hadn’t noticed it before.
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Dammit.
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Hitting the button to call her back, he listened to it ring as he shut down his computer and shoved a stack of papers he needed to look into later into his briefcase. But when his call also went to voicemail after several rings, he had to fight back a wave of irritation.
If she was ignoring his call as payback for hers going to voicemail earlier, they were going to have a long talk.
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With that thought in mind, he grabbed what he needed for the research he planned to do after dinner and headed out the door. Two more calls to Frankie’s phone went unanswered, and by the time he pulled into his driveway he was torn between annoyance and worry.
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“Francesca?” He paused just inside the front door, listening for her, but was greeted with silence. Worry shoved annoyance aside as he shut the door behind him and headed for the stairs. “Francesca! Where are you?”
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Not in ‘her’ room or his, or either bathroom. Doesn’t mean anything. It’s a big fucking house.
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Jogging back down the stairs, he checked the living room she favored, as well as the more formal parlor before heading to the kitchen.
Where he found her, back pressed against the cabinets, knees pulled up to her chest, sobbing. He froze for a moment, taking in the detritus around her. Open and empty bags of chips, what looked like a bag of chocolate chips, fruit cups, ice cream sandwich wrappers, and a dozen other items from his pantry.
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Oh, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.
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Wading through the mess, he crouched down to slide his arms under her, but the moment he touched her, she yanked away, curling in on herself even more tightly. “Don’t touch me!”
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“Baby. It’s just me. I’m gonna take you upstairs and get you cleaned up.”
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“No!” Voice hoarse, she shook her head without looking up at him. “Leave me alone! I don’t want you here!”
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Ignoring the stab of hurt, he settled on the floor beside her. “Too damn bad, little girl. You’ve got me and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
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“D-don’t w-want you to s-see me like this.”
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It was far too late for that, but pointing that out just felt like cruelty, so he stayed silent. Guilt dug its claws into his chest as he surveyed the evidence of her binge.
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Should have been here. Shouldn’t have left her alone. Fuck. I’m so sorry, baby.
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He reached for her again, relief flooding him when she didn’t pull away this time. Lifting her up from the floor, he cradled her on his lap, holding her tight as she wept into his shoulder.
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“It’s all right, baby. Daddy’s right here,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her hair.
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“Gonna be sick.”
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Tightening his hold on her, he pulled her against his chest as she struggled to free herself. “No, you’re not. You’re going to sit right here, with me, until it passes.”
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“No! Let me go, Holden!”
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Even on her best days, she was far too tiny to fight him off. And even though she’d been eating more regularly, she still wasn’t up to her normal strength. So it took little effort on his part to hold her in place, no matter how hard she fought to free herself.
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Tears clogged in his throat, blurred his vision as he held her through it. And when she finally collapsed against him, whimpering as she curled into him again, he could have sworn he heard his heart shattering in his chest.
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“Daddy’s right here, baby,” he whispered, closing his eyes against the waves of grief and guilt crashing over him. “Daddy’s got you. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
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Time lost all meaning as he sat there, holding her as she wept, as she apologized over and over. Every now and again, she’d fight to get away, but he held on with everything he had until, at long last, she wore herself out.
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With her still cradled in his arms, he managed to push himself to his feet. Ignoring the empty packages for the time being, he carried her up the stairs to the shower, where he stripped them both down before stepping beneath the steaming water.
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There was nothing sexual about it. As he stood beneath the spray, lowering her to her feet in front of him so he could run a soapy washcloth over her body, her slightly swollen stomach, he felt no stirring of desire. Only that grief and guilt from the knowledge that he’d failed her. That he hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him most.
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When she was clean from head to toe, he turned the water off and dried her thoroughly before carrying her to his bed. His t-shirts were more than large enough for a nightgown, so he pulled one of his old Marine Corps shirts over her head before tucking her in beside him.
“I’m sorry.” Her words were slightly slurred, almost as if she’d been drinking, and he pressed another kiss to her hair.
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“You don’t owe me any apologies, little siren. Sleep now, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
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He waited for the sound of her soft snores before sliding from the bed and creeping down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing for her, maybe he was simply enabling her, but he would be damned if she woke up in the morning and had to face the evidence of her darkest moment. Not in his house.
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With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the broom and a trash bag from the pantry and got to work cleaning the kitchen until it sparkled.
***
Frankie
She felt like shit.
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Groaning as a wave of nausea hit, Frankie rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Why did she feel so awful? Was she sick?
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No. Not sick. Another wave of nausea roiled in her stomach, this time accompanied by the shame and guilt that always came on the heels of a binge.
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She tried to roll out of the bed, desperate to make her way to the bathroom so she could get rid of at least some of the heaviness in her belly, but there was an iron band wrapped around her. At least, it felt like an iron band.
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It was, in reality, Holden’s arm. And the more she wiggled, the tighter it became around her.
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“Stop.”
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An order, clear as day, in that firm ‘Daddy’ tone she was so familiar with.
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“I need the bathroom,” she whispered, trying to move his arm again.
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“Just a second.”
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To her horror, he didn’t release her, but simply rolled, holding her tight against him until he was seated on the edge of the bed with her cradled in his arms. Another time, she might have been able to appreciate how smooth the move was, but at that moment all she knew was the desperate need to get away.
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“Holden.” Doing her best to imitate his stern tone, she frowned up at him. “Put me down.”
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“In a second,” he repeated, rising to his feet and carrying her to the bathroom. Where he did, as he’d promised, put her down. Right in front of the toilet.
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Eyes perfectly clear, as if he hadn’t just been roused from a deep sleep, he stepped back, arms folded across his chest and nodded toward the toilet. “Use the bathroom.”
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Ah, fuck. She did need to pee, but she needed to rid herself of the heaviness in her stomach even more. And there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let her get away with purging right in front of him.
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Calling on years of training under her mother’s watchful eye, Frankie tilted her chin up, doing her best to look down her nose at him. Which was, admittedly, difficult given how much taller than her he was. But she thought she did a rather admirable job.
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Even Delphine would be impressed.
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“A little privacy, please?”
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Holden, on the other hand, wasn’t the least bit impressed by her ‘princess’ act. The only reaction she received at all was a slight raising of one eyebrow. “No.”
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“You’re being ridiculous, Holden.”
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Now he did react, one hand snaking out to grip her by the chin, forcing her head back even further than she’d managed on her own. “You think I don’t know what comes after a binge, Francesca? I may not have been here to protect you last night, but I’m here now and I’ll be goddamned if I let you continue hurting yourself on my watch. So congratulations, little siren, you’ve lost every right to privacy you think you deserve. Now, sit.”
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It wasn’t the fury whipping through his voice that threatened to break her. It was the hurt and the guilt and the worry beneath it that had her feeling like glass about to shatter.
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This wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.
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But as much as she wanted to say the words, they wouldn’t come. So she swallowed hard against the lump of emotion in her throat and settled for what she could say.
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“Yes, Daddy.”
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The grip on her face loosened, though his expression didn’t soften in the least. “Good girl,” he said gruffly, running the pad of his thumb over her trembling bottom lip.
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She wanted to say something, to reassure him last night had been a one-time thing. That it very definitely, in absolutely no way, was his fault. But despite her original intentions when she’d try to get out of bed, her bladder was now making its own needs known, so she shuffled over to the toilet and raised the hem of the oversized shirt—his shirt—and sat on the cool porcelain.
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Shame and humiliation turned her cheeks to an inferno as she sat, waiting for her bladder to release. It seemed to take forever before it happened, the sound of her peeing in the toilet filling the room as her Daddy watched on.
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Thank god she only had to pee.
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Fleetingly, she wondered if he had some laxatives laying around. Or if she could sneak out of the house long enough for a quick run. Anything to help offset last night’s binge.
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No. Stop it. Daddy will be furious if you do that and you’re in enough trouble as it is.
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Much to her surprise, that thought was enough to lift some of the heaviness on her chest. Daddy didn’t want her to purge, so she wouldn’t purge. It was as simple as that, at least for the time being.
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When she was all cleaned up again, he scooped her up again, carrying her back into the bedroom. Where he sat, back against the headboard, his face buried in her shoulder.
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“Scared the shit out of me last night, baby.”
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More of the guilt she was beginning to think she’d carry forever settled on her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of… happened.”
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“Yeah, I know.” Dragging in a shuddering breath, he lifted his head, his dark gaze boring into hers with… was that sympathy turning the usual brown to molten amber? Sympathy, and not the anger she knew damn well she deserved?
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What the hell?
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As if sensing her thoughts, he cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “I’m not mad, little siren. Well, not at you, anyway. I should have been here, should have been keeping a better eye on you like I’d promised and none of this would have happened. I’m so fucking sorry, Frankie.”
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“This wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, returning the gesture, his stubble prickly against her palm. “It was mine. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“Baby, you didn’t let me down. You’re sick, and I should have been here to take care of you. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.”
Which meant he’d be keeping an even closer eye on her than ever before. What did it say about her that she found the idea more comforting than upsetting?
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They sat there a good while longer, each drinking in the comfort of the other’s presence before he sighed. “I need to eat, and so do you. And after breakfast, you’re going to call your therapist and get an emergency appointment. This afternoon, if you’re able.”
Panic fluttered at her breast at the mention of her therapist and the memory of Lottie’s furious expression the day before. She should tell him the truth, before he found out some other way.
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But the thought of confessing to him, when he was already so disappointed in her, made her want to weep. So she simply nodded and again said the only words that would come.
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“Yes, Daddy.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Holden
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
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Reaching over, he threaded his fingers through Frankie’s, bringing her hand up to his lips. “It’s going to be okay. Daddy’s right here.”
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“I know. I know. It’s just…” She blew out a shaky breath. “No, you’re right. It’s okay. I can do this.”
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For a week they’d been holed up in their house, making love and talking about the future every chance they got. They’d cleared up so many of their miscommunications, and he’d even made them an appointment with Dr. Jen for the following week so they could work on their communication skills.
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But the one thing that had come up over and over again had been her parents. How she’d felt growing up, her every move being weighed and judged. She’d also told him about getting cut off, and how that had contributed to her first binge. If he hadn’t thought it would upset her more, he would have gone over to her parents’ house right then to read them the fucking riot act for being such pieces of shit.
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Apparently the topic had come up in her therapy session that week as well, because he'd woken in the middle of the night to find her downstairs in the kitchen, crying over a bag of cheese curls. For what felt like the millionth time, his heart had broken as he’d held her in his lap while she wept and apologized.
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The next morning, he’d very carefully brought up the idea of going to talk to them. She’d balked at first, so he’d let the matter drop, with the intention of broaching the subject again in a few weeks.
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So when she’d come into his office later that afternoon, looking more determined than he’d ever seen her, and asked if he would come with her to talk to her parents the next day, it had been something of a shock. But he'd never been more proud of her, something he’d made a point to tell her as he worshiped her body until she begged for mercy.
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Now here they were, minutes from the house she’d grown up in. He refused to call it a home, as from what he’d heard it lacked any of the warmth and love that might have turned the cold stone facade into an actual home.
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“We don't have to do this,” he reminded her as he turned the wheel onto the long, winding drive that led up to her parents’ house. “We can turn around and go home. You can never talk to them again if you want. Or we can try again later. Whatever you want to do, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
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Squeezing his hand, she turned her head to smile up at him, and his heart tripped in his chest at the sight. “I know. That’s why I know I can do this.”
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He parked the car at the top of the drive and killed the engine, reluctantly letting go of her hand long enough to climb out and jog around to the passenger door. When he took her hand again, she gripped his tightly as they made the walk up to her parents’ door.
It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that she chose to ring the doorbell, but it did. Even after twenty years of not living in his parents’ house, he still didn’t ring the doorbell when he visited, and it was yet another reminder of how cold this place must have been for her growing up.
They were greeted by an equally chilly housekeeper who escorted them to the parlor, where her parents sat waiting. Her mother on a couch, a blonde, colder version of the woman he loved, her back ramrod straight and her hands neatly folded in her lap.
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In the armchair next to her sat a man who didn’t look as though he’d ever even heard the word ‘love’, nonetheless felt anything even remotely close to it for his daughter. The only similarity Holden could find were the eyes, but even there the only sameness was the shape and color. There was none of the laughter and warmth and joy he was used to seeing in his siren, and the look in Francis Legare’s eyes chilled him to his bones.
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My poor little siren. I’m so fucking sorry.
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“Hi, Mom. Dad.”
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“Francesca.” Delphine Legare inclined her head, but made no move to embrace her only child. “I assume you’re coming to apologize for your behavior these past weeks?”
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It didn’t escape his notice that she didn’t spare him a single look. But that was fine. If he had it his way, he’d never have to see these people again, so he didn’t give a flying fuck if they gave him the time of day or not.
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His only concern was the woman beside him, so he gave her hand a comforting squeeze when her breath hitched. Frankie looked up at him, worry and fear and anger all blazing in her eyes. He gave her a small nod, a reminder that he was right there with her and he wasn’t going anywhere.
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Dragging in a deep breath, she turned back to her parents, and pride welled in his chest when she spoke, her voice proud and strong.
“You know what they say about assuming things, Mom. It makes an ass out of you and me.”
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He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh. Good girl.
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Delphine gasped. “Why I never—”
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“Yeah, exactly. You never.” Obviously picking up steam, Frankie let go of his hand and stepped forward, righteous anger pouring off her in waves. “You knew I got put on probation, but you never called to check on me. Never bothered to ask what happened, if I was okay. If you had, you’d know that I ended up in the hospital the day it happened because I relapsed. Yeah, I know, I’m a huge fucking failure as a daughter,” she said with a sneer when Delphine’s eyes narrowed. “But you know what? You’re even more of a failure as parents. You never saw me as a real person, just some sort of fucked-up status symbol for you to parade in front of your friends. All I ever wanted was to make you proud of me, so that maybe, maybe I could pretend you loved me for five fucking seconds.”
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“If you wanted us to be proud of you, then you should have given us something to be proud of,” her father said with a careless shrug.
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“Too late, Dad. You already told me I’ve been a disappointment to you ever since you found out you were having a daughter. Nothing I ever did would have been good enough for you, would it?”
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“I would have settled for you not being a complete embarrassment to this family.”
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Frankie didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, she did the last thing Holden would have expected in that moment.
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She laughed.
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“Holy fuck, you are so full of yourself. So drunk on your own self-importance you can’t even see the world for what it is. But you know what? You think I’m so much of an embarrassment you want to cut me off, cut me out of your lives? Have it your way. I’m fucking done.” Turning on her heel, she strode for the front door. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go home.”
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He turned to follow her, but only for a second before changing his mind and returning his gaze to the people who called herself their parents. “You don’t know it yet, but you just lost the best thing that ever happened to you. Someday, when you’re old and lonely and lying in your bed waiting for the sweet release of death, you’ll remember this. You’ll remember what you could have had with that amazing, brilliant, beautiful woman. And I hope those regrets follow you into the afterlife and never grant you a moment of peace.”
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“How dare you. Who the hell do you think you are?”
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But he’d already turned his back on Francis’s shouting, and he followed his woman out the door. And was greeted by the siren sound of her swearing up a blue streak as she paced the pavement in front of his SUV.
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“What took so long?”
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Walking straight for her, he cupped her face in his hands before crushing his lips to hers. Slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding on tight as she whimpered into he kiss.
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“You were fucking brilliant,” he said when he finally lifted his head. “I’m so goddamn proud of you, baby.”
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“Yeah?” A lopsided grin crossed her face. “Proud enough to give me a reward?”
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“Absolutely.” And he knew just the thing.
***
Frankie
“Holy shit. Holy shit. I just dumped my parents.”
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From the driver’s seat, Holden grinned. “How do you feel?”
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“Awesome. Nauseous. Incredible. Terrified.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure yet. Do you really think I did the right thing?”
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“Abso-fucking-lutely, I do. You were incredible back there, baby.”
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“I need to call Lottie. Can I call Lottie?”
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“Use my phone. I want to hear what she has to say.”
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Shaking, though she was pretty sure it was from excitement more than panic over what she'd just done, she reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts for Braden’s number.
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“Holden. Everything okay?” Guilt nibbled at her when he answered immediately, his voice tight with worry.
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“Everything’s great,” Holden answered, shooting her another wide grin. “Is Lottie around? Frankie and I are in the car and she wants to talk to her.”
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“She’s right here, actually. Let me put you on speaker.”
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A moment later, Lottie’s worried voice came through the speakers. Jesus, did she really have everyone wound that tightly on her behalf? “Frankie? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
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“Nothing’s wrong. I’m amazing.” Scooping a hand through her hair, Frankie let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I dumped my parents.”
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Silence filled the car. “You… dumped your parents? How? Why? Never mind, I know why, it’s because they’re fucking assholes and they don’t deserve to have you in their life.”
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“Pretty much. I went over there with the intention of talking to them, to see if we could work things out, I guess. But then we got there and my mom was asking me if I’d come to apologize and I just looked at them, sitting there all high and mighty and realized… I deserve so much better than the scraps they’ve been giving me my whole life.”
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“Damn straight you do. I’m so proud of you. Holden, you take our girl to go get some ice cream or something. Buy her something shiny. Spoil the fuck out of her. She’s earned it.”
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“I have every intention of showing her exactly how proud I am of her, don’t worry.”
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“Oh.” Lottie almost sounded disappointed, but a moment later she sucked in an audible breath. “Oh. Okay, well… enjoy.”
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Glancing over, Frankie met Holden’s heated gaze. And in those dark eyes she saw her own want and need and frenzy reflected. “Don’t worry, Lottie-baby. We will.”
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