Page 37 of Playing for Keeps

Was it wrong to start on the hard liquor this early in the afternoon?

With my glass refilled, with my lungs burning from all the deep, calming breaths and my fingers aching from worrying my necklace, I slipped back into the room.

“—And I told him I needed to talk to Lee,” Frankie said, finally pausing to shove a big bite of food in her mouth.

“Who’s Lee?”

“Frankie’s business partner,” I supplied as Frankie covered her full mouth with her hand. “They started a security company together last year, after Corey was shot.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?” Kelly asked, the girl ignoring the whirlpool of pain talking about the near-loss of my brother always brought me.

“It’s good,” Frankie told her, the two of them already working hard at addressing and stuffing envelopes. “Except for the little hiccup when Vivian was taken, we’re actually pretty great. Business is holding steady, and that’s good. I’ve got the wedding to plan. The trial for Tina Dayton, the psycho that shot Corey, is coming up soon. And of course, I’m helping put Jason, that lunatic that took Viv, away for as long as we can.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty busy,” Kelly said.

“I am.” Frankie set down her pen and envelope, her hazel eyes going soft as they turned my way. Her hand covered mine, and a sad smile graced her lips. “That’s why I’m so grateful for you. For both of you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re helping me out.”

“Corey’s my big brother,” I offered, returning her smile. “You make him happy, and I’d do anything for him.”

We spent the next two hours addressing envelopes, stuffing them full of the invitations and RSVP cards and return envelopes, and stuffing our faces with the food Frankie’d brought. My head spun a little from all the wine, and I rose to grab myself a glass of water. Before I made it two steps, a loud popping noise, like the sound of the gun that’d shot my brother, rang out.

I nearly dove for cover.

Nearly lost my footing and fell to the ground.

It was only the sound of a motorcycle speeding off down the street that jolted me out of the past.

Diving for the window behind the couch, I yanked the curtains open and looked down at the street. A black-clad motorcyclist was there, disappearing around the corner as I pressed my face to the glass.

There was no way to tell if it was the same one I’d seen outside my apartment building time and time again. Because I’d never seen it in daylight. Not really. It was always dark when I found him waiting down the block.

“What is it?” Frankie asked, joining me at the window, her hand clutching at the thin golden chain hanging around her neck.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, unwilling to share my concerns about the motorcyclist who never did anything threatening, but always seemed to be there.

“Sounded like an engine backfiring,” Kelly said from her spot on the floor. “Guy should probably get that checked out.”

Frankie’s eyes met mine, and I swear, we had a moment. One where last summer was still fresh in our minds. Where my brother was bleeding from a gunshot wound. Where he was bound to his hospital bed by wires and tubes, doped up on pain relievers and unable to talk.

The summer that had changed my life, when I’d torn out my heart and left it in the hands of the man I loved, praying he’d come find me and make me whole, only to be left standing all alone.

I jolted when a knock sounded at the door. The moment was over, just like last summer, just like the relationship I’d never get back. Frankie squeezed my arm before returning to her spot on the floor, and I hopped off the couch, swaying as I walked over to the door.

The minute I opened it, I was attacked. Aaron leapt through the opening, latching onto me much like he had the first night I’d invited him in. I squealed at the unexpected movement, at the slight twinge of pain as his teeth scraped the skin on my neck. My heart beat erratically in my chest, the sweet and spicy smell of cloves tickling my nose.

“Holy hell, Parker. Way to scare the shit out of everyone.”

“What’s it to you, O’Connor,” Aaron grumbled, tearing his face from my neck to look at my friend. “Oh, shit.”

He let me go, stepping back and blinking. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

“Jen, who’s this?” Frankie asked, more than a hint of concern etched across her face.

“This is Aaron,” I told her, gesturing to the man as if she hadn’t known he was right there. “Parker. He’s my co-worker.”

“Ah, come on, drowned rat,” he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to his side. “We’re more than that.”

More than that.