Because what I felt for Derek was so much more, which would only lead to more heartache and more danger. Zero was a better choice. The safer choice.
Once he disappeared down the road, I slipped inside and found Frankie on the couch. Her arms were folded over her chest as she glared at me.
“You let him kiss you?” she accused. “I thought this wasn’t a date?”
I opened my mouth and quickly closed it, unable to form words that would explain what I was feeling. Slyce’s words cut through my head,pun intended, and I realized what she had been trying to say.
Frankie had become my best friend. My confidant. But I had to remind myself she was twelve. She’d barely started puberty; she didn’t understand relationships between grown men and women.
“I told you to go to bed. You aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” she said, hopping up from the couch to follow me to the kitchen. I studied her face; the color had returned. I pressed a hand against her forehead and scowled.
“You were faking?” I asked. “How the hell do fake paleness?”
Frankie shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Francesca—”
“Stop,” she said, cutting me off with her hand in the air before I could finish her full name. “You didn’t want to be there any longer than I did. Besides, I saw Derek follow you to the bathroom. Zero did too.”
“He didn’t follow me to the bathroom,” I lied.
“So you didn’t talk to him?”
I gaped at my daughter. I was beginning to wonder if Miss Fredricks had lied to me and Frankie was really ten years old when I adopted her. Because the child asking me these questions was entirely too mature for her age.
That was probably my fault, too.
“Mom, it’s okay if you like Derek. I like him too. I just wish he liked me.” She shrugged. “But I won’t always live with you. So as long as he isn’t mean to me, I think you should go for it.”
What had I done to my daughter?
What had I taught her?
“Sweetie, no. If I ever decide to start dating, or if I decided to get married again one day, it wouldn’t be to someone who did the bare minimum where you are concerned. I would never invite someone into our lives who didn’t want to be a father to you.”
“I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“Baby, I’m not lonely. I have you, and I will always have you. You are my everything, and you will always come first.” I squeezed her tight and said, “Now off to bed on the off chance your body didn’t get the memo about your acting abilities.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, baby. With everything I have.”
She trudged down the hall, and I made myself a cup of coffee. Slipping quietly through the front door, I sat on my porch. The evenings were getting colder, but I loved how quiet it was in Diamond Creek. The dark sky, unpolluted with light leaking from skyscrapers and cities that never slept.
And the stars.
I’d never seen so many stars in my life. Time moved differently here; it wasn’t late, but the street was quiet. One by one, I watched porch lights turn off and windows go dark as neighbors ended the day, until everything around me fell silent.
The sound of tires on pavement, a sound I never knew existed, sent a shiver down my spine. Headlights from a familiar truck appeared a few houses down and slowly made their way closer until the truck pulled into my driveway and shut off.
Too afraid to move, I sat frozen as his door opened and one booted foot hit the asphalt, followed by another. He closed the door softly, barely making a sound, and leaned against the side of the vehicle.
We stared at each other, neither saying a word about what had happened at the restaurant, but also not able to look away. I let my eyes roam over his body. His snug fitted jeans and work boots. The black henley shirt he wore under his flannel. His hair mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration.
Or maybe anger.
