Page 3 of Unwanted

The name flashing on my screen has me frozen, my hands stopping mid-air above my keyboard.

Hesitantly, I grab my cell, swipe my thumb across the screen, and bring it to my ear. “Hello.”

“Frankie.” The feminine voice is unexpected and unsure but desperate. Even after years of texts only, it’s one I would recognize anywhere. “Frankie, you there?”

“Clem,” I say calmly. “What is it?”

“It’s Lennox,” she breathes out. “He’s hurt. You need to come home.”

Stunned into silence, I struggle to respond. I should’ve known when it was her number that showed up it wouldn’t be a friendly catch-up call.

“Frankie,” she says, her voice reprimanding. “Did you hear me? You can’t stay away from this. You need to come home.”

“I-Is he dying?” I manage to sputter out. “Is he dead?”

“No.” The word is definite, and my body deflates at her certainty. “I’m sorry,” she says empathetically. “I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s hurt and it’s bad, but nobody is dying or dead.”

“What happened?”

“He got hurt during a game. He blacked out, and when he came to…” Clem lets out a resigned sigh. “He can’t hear, Frankie.” Her voice cracks with the news. “He can’t fucking hear.”

It takes a few long seconds for me to process what she’s saying. To process the enormity of what this could do to Lennox.

“Will his hearing come back?”

“They don’t know for sure, but they don’t seem to think so.” She pauses. “He doesn’t want us around him, Frankie. And I refuse to watch him retreat into himself. Not after he’s finally found his footing.”

Visions of my younger brother flitter through my mind, nausea and heartache consuming me at the memory of it all.

Malnourished and skittish, silent and tense. Lennox and I had found each other later in life, despite our biological connection, and guilt ate at me daily for the young boy the foster system failed. The boy who needed hard convincing that he was loved and his life was worth living.

“Frankie,” she pleads, her voice pulling me back from my thoughts. “I know you can’t stand the thought of coming back to LA, but he needs you.” When I don’t respond, she adds, “Yourfamilyneeds you.”

It’s the one line she knows very well will work on me. Despite me leaving LA four years ago, and having yet to return, my family has always been a priority.

Even at a distance, I’ve done what I can to be there for them. It might not be in the traditional sense of the word or a way that any of them, especially Lennox, like or have accepted, but the distance is the only way I could live a healthy life and still be a part of theirs.

And even when they don’t understand, I have to remind myself that keeping the distance between us is what’s saved me.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I tell her. “I have to ask my boss for the time off and tie up loose ends.”

“Do what you have to, Frankie, but make sure it’s an open-ended visit, because I’m not letting you fly back to Seattle until I know he’s one hundred percent okay.”

The tone in her voice doesn’t leave much room for arguing, and I know better than to argue with Clem. She’s always been a force to be reckoned with, especially when it comes to the people she loves. And she didn’t just love Lennox, she helped me raise him. She was the one by my side when I did everything in my power to bring him back to life, when all he wanted to be was dead. “I get it, Clem,” I reassure her. “I’ll text you my flight details as soon as I have them.”

“Good.”

“And Clem.”

“Mmm?”

“If anything changes, call me.”

“Of course.”

We both hang up, the goodbye not necessary. We both know we’ll be hearing from one another soon, and honestly, I don’t need to stay on the line and exchange more words to know exactly how she’s feeling and exactly what she’s expecting of me right now.

While she hasn’t ever hidden how mad she is at me for leaving, or punished me for it, right now there’s no other option but to go back.

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