Page 23 of Eight Seconds to Fly

Frankie’s shoulders seemed tense, though he nodded and smiled at every person we passed. I just had to hope it wasn’t the ending of something beautiful too.

7

Irested up in the queen bed, several beers and a pizza between us. We watchedGrey’s Anatomyreruns in silence. The mood between Frankie and I was off, and that distance wasn’t something I could handle.

“Are you going to say something, or are you going to pout for the rest of the night?”

He looked over at me, his green eyes wide like a kicked puppy. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Tessa.” The way he said my name with his Brazilian accent always made bits of me tingle. Inappropriate bits.

“I’m referring to the fact I fucked Beau and you’ve been pouting about it all afternoon.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the screen. I folded my arms over my chest and scowled. “Since when do you give a shit who I sleep with, Frankie?”

He rolled off the bed and stood in the middle of our tiny hotel room. “Why do you think I stay, Tessa? Why do you think I travel to event after event with you? I do not want to be a bullfighter that bad. So why do I keep traveling with you?”

My heart was racing. “I don’t know, Frankie? I thought it was because you love bull riding as much as I do.”

Frankie was shaking his head, running his hand through his dark curls. “No. I hate bull riding. Hate the fear it creates inside me. First with Luiz, then with you.”

“I don’t understand what you are telling me right now.” I shook my head at him and he sighed.

“Yes you do, Tessa.”

I was scared I did. Scared what it would mean. “But you sleep with other women too, Frankie. I’ve seen it. You are like honey and they are some thirsty bee-ches.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year. Because they were never what I wanted. They were never you.Eu te amo.I love you.”

I reared back like he’d struck me. “You can’t.” I was shaking my head. “We’ve been traveling together for three years, Frankie. Why now?”

He slumped into the only chair in the room, putting his head in his hands. “Because of this. Because I didn’t want to risk losing you for good if you didn’t return my feelings. Because having you in my life but not knowing my feelings was better than not having you at all. It was okay with one night stands, people that you'd never see again. I could fool myself that I was more important to you than they were. They were like gas station attendants, filling a need but it wasn’t personal.” He sighed and stood. “But the way you look at Beau. The way you look at all of them. They are more, and I can see you slipping through my fingers and I don’t think I can stand by and watch my heart get broken,Querida. I just can’t.” He grabbed his hat off the table and put it on his head, wrenching open the door.

“Frankie!” I yelled, getting to my feet. His feet stilled, and he looked over his shoulder. I swallowed hard, my eyes filled with unshed tears. “Don’t leave me.”

He gave me a sad smile and shook his head. “I don’t think I could even if I tried.” Then he made himself a liar, walking out the door and closing it with a soft click.

Frankie loved me. Like, love love. What the hell was I going to do with that?

I staredat the door for another hour before I realized Frankie wasn’t about to turn around and come back. We didn’t fight. Well not really, anyway. Sure, sometimes we disagreed about shit. I PMS’ed once a month like a normal woman and he breathed during that time, so there was bound to be fireworks every now and then. But mostly, we resolved it and we never, ever went to bed with bad feelings. It was a thing for me. Definitely some PTSD related neurosis from the accident that I probably needed therapy for, but Frankie had always understood it. Respected it.

When there was a knock at my door, I was on my feet and wrenching it open, uncaring what time of night it was.

“Frankie, I’m-” but it was Branch and not Frankie on the other side of the door.

Branch looked hot. He was in clean Wranglers and a dark button up shirt that was tailored just right. He had on his good boots, polished to a shine, and a gold buckle from a win last year. His black hat had a small turkey feather in the band and his face was clean shaven. I wanted to lick the sharp line of his jaw, if I wasn’t worried it would cut me like his sharp tongue.

“Sorry to disturb you, Nugget. My parents have been blowing up your phone all night, and got a little worried when you didn’t answer. They sent me over to make sure you weren’t bleeding to death in the shower or something.”

I realized belatedly that I was standing in the doorway to my hotel room in my underwear and a stained old shirt that belonged to Frankie. I motioned Branch into the room, and he looked it over. It looked a little like a tornado had hit it, because I hadn’t packed away my gear earlier, but screw him. He wasn’t housekeeping and I didn’t owe him my housewife best.

I went looking for my phone, searching in my suitcase for it. I hadn’t gotten it out after the day had finished, my leg too sore and my head too muddled from the ride and the sex with Beau.

Shit, remembering Beau, I stood straight. Then I realized I'd been bending over in nothing but my underwear and my face got hot.

I tugged at the hem of the shirt, and straightened. There were six missed calls from Mrs. Watson. One from Beau. None from Frankie.

I swallowed back the emotions. I’d cry when Branch left.

“Apologize to your mom and dad for me. I didn’t hear it ring in there.”

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