with the therapist on Friday though, she was in a worse mood. I’d gone to get my blood work done, as promised, when Rachel texted out of the blue.
Queen Bitch of the Universe: Taking Frankie home. Gonna hang out with her after. She’s not happy.
What the hell?
Me: Did she tell you what happened?
We’d all been careful to not ask her or push her on the appointments. The point of therapy was to let her work through the issues with unbiased assistance. Did I want to know? Hell yes. But we couldn’t demand to know. It was none of our business until she chose to share.
Rachel took her sweet fucking time answering me. I’d had my blood drawn and I’d gone over the paperwork and then had a quick exam before my phone buzzed again.
Queen Bitch of the Universe: Idk. At apt. She’s lying down. I’ll stay till one of you gets here.
As irritating as she could be, I appreciated it.
I checked my watch. I could ditch now with the doctor’s appointment finished. They’d email me the results, then I could give Frankie the all clear she’d asked for.
Me: Heading that way now.
I hesitated a second before adding.
Me: Need anything?
I was in my car before she answered with a succinct ‘no.’
I fired off a text to the guys to let them know where Frankie was and that I was on my way there.
Unsurprisingly, they blew up my phone before I was even halfway to her place. I didn’t answer them until I parked.
All were in a similar vein, what was wrong? Did I need them to ditch? Whose ass did they need to kick?
The last was Jake’s, but that also fit.
Me: Don’t know. Maybe just had a bad appt. Can happen. Finish class. I’ll text after I see her. Might be a minute.
Then I shoved the phone in my pocket. In the apartment, Rachel stood as I let myself in. The television was on, and she had a notebook in her hand. Apparently, she’d killed time doing homework.
“She’s still in her room,” Rachel told me, pitching her voice low. “You good?”
“I’m good. Hang out a sec before you take off?” At her surprised look, I shrugged. “She may not want me for company. She didn’t throw you out so…”
With a faint smirk, Rachel dropped back onto the sofa like she belonged there and went back to her spiral bound notebook. What the fuck was she writing? Poetry? She cleared her throat, and I jerked my gaze up.
“Her room is that way.” She pointed with her pen.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “If I’m not out in five minutes, go ahead and take off—and Rachel?”
“Yep?”
“Thank you.”
“Didn’t do it for you.”
“Don’t care.” I mimicked her snotty tone, but I didn’t miss her faint smile as she kept writing without looking up. Leaving it with that, I headed back to the bedroom. I tapped the door once before letting myself in. Still dressed in the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn to school, she was curled on her side, facing the window with her back to the door. Her right wrist was propped on a pillow.
Closing the door behind me, I crossed to the bed. “Want your shoes off?”
Her shoulders lifted, then dropped. A faint shrug.
“Okay, I’m going to call that a yes.” I tugged them off one at a time. “Need me to get rid of the jeans, too?”
No movement.
“So, no.” I moved so I could see her face, the wan look made my heart fist. What the hell had they discussed in that session? “Can I get you anything? Chocolate? Pizza? A hug?”
The last word had her gaze tracking to me, and she let out a little sigh. “I could use a hug.”
Toeing off my own shoes, I moved over to crawl onto the bed behind her and then eased her so her back was to my chest and I was wrapped around her. “Better?”
“Tighter,” she requested in a small voice, so I bundled her up tighter and pressed my face into her hair. Her little relieved sigh allowed some of the tension to relax in me.
“Anything you want,” I promised. After a few minutes, the sound of the door closing in the front carried through the house, and Frankie huffed out a sigh.
“Crap, I left Rachel out there…”
“She wasn’t worried about that,” I told her. “She texted me that you were feeling bad, and I told her if I didn’t come out, she could go ahead and take off.”