Page 117 of Gravity of Love
Frankie looked up at Zee.
“Theytotallyfucked,” he stated aloud what they were both thinking.
“Right?!” Frankie agreed.
“Mouse!” her mom called out from the waiting area. “Where’s Frankie?”
Frankie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself for another round. When she opened them, Zee held out his arm for her to take. “Shall we, my dear?”
“We shall.” She wrapped her fingers around his bicep, and he escorted her back to the waiting area.
Frankie braced herself as she stepped back into the waiting area, summoning all the emotional stability she had left for hermother’s benefit, though inside she was a tsunami of anxiety and exhaustion.
The second her mom saw her, she shot up out of her chair, the temporary relief of seeing her daughter quickly replaced by worry. “Did you find him? Did you find Liam?” she asked, her voice growing hoarse.
Frankie shook her head. “He’s still not answering, but I ran into Poppy, and she said she’d look for him.”
“Where is he? Why would he just leave and not come back?!” Her mom gestured wildly.
Frankie tried to think of anything she could say to soothe her mom’s nerves, but her brain was fried. “Maybe he just needed a minute,” she offered a lame excuse for his extended absence. “I’m sure he’ll show up soon.”
Cora looked unconvinced. She gazed at the swinging double doors he’d disappeared behind, face pinched and pale. “Niko, have you tried your brother again?”
Niko fished his phone from his pocket and dialed. “He’s still not answering,” he reported after a moment, voice flat. “I’ll keep trying.”
Frankie’s stomach sank a little further. Even though she’d told herself not to overreact, the feeling that something was off gnawed at her. AJ never missed a crisis, not ever. And Liam—well, she could believe he’d disappear, but after last night, and with so much at stake, and how he felt about her mom.
She was about to try AJ on her phone when, as if on cue, the sliding doors opened, and AJ walked in.
Her mom rushed towards him and launched herself into his arms.
“Where were you?” she asked, her words muffled against his shoulder. “We couldn’t get ahold of you.”
Frankie was all ears. This would be interesting. AJ never lied, part of his neurological makeup made him practically incapable of lying. She wondered how he’d handle this situation.
“I’m here now.” AJ hugged his mom back, his expression unreadable, before guiding her over to the chairs and getting her settled next to him.
She glanced at Zee to see if he was as disappointed as she was at her brother’s answer. He looked impressed by the way AJ swerved his mom’s question without lying.
As the time ticked by, Frankie watched the group that had assembled, Tristan was talking to Niko. Her mom was holding onto AJ’s arm for dear life. Yaya was multi-tasking as she scolded Emmanuelle about her bad sleep habits and not drinking enough water while simultaneously teaching both the supermodel and Zee how to knit. It was a motley crew, but Frankie was happy it was hers.
It hit her, Zee was right, as per usual, no matter what happened with Dr. Sterling, she had support now. She wasn’t a child. Yaya hadn’t just lost a son, so she wasn’t in the throes of grief. AJ and Niko weren’t adolescent boys, they were men. She had her main support system in Zee. And if Liam had gone AWOL again and things didn’t work out, which she hoped and wished on every star in the sky that wouldn’t be the case, she’d still be okay.
That thought had no sooner flashed across her mind than the double doors from the ER he’d disappeared behind hours earlier opened and Liam walked out. He looked…tired. Beat down. Everyone stood, except Yaya, who was balancing four balls of yarn on her lap.
“He’s okay,” Liam announced as he approached Frankie’s mom and Tristan. “He’s out of surgery and awake. He’s going into recovery. You can see him in about twenty minutes. He still has a hard road ahead, but he’s tough, and he’s going to be okay.”
In an instant, the room’s atmosphere shifted. Frankie’s mom propelled herself across the room like she’d been shot from a cannon, throwing her arms around Liam and clinging to him like a cat on a screen door, even he seemed rattled by the ferocity. She choked out a sob that was equal parts gratitude, relief, and hours of raw terror. Tears streaked her cheeks as she pressed her face into Liam’s shoulder, muttering thank you over and over in a staccato rhythm that made it sound like a mantra or prayer.
Across the waiting room, Tristan’s legs went out from under him, and he folded into the chair, head buried in trembling hands. Emmanuelle lowered down beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. As soon as she held him, he collapsed sideways into the comfort of her embrace, clutching her like a man who’d just been rescued from drowning in a riptide. Everyone in the waiting area—the twins, Yaya, even Zion—let out a collective sigh that seemed to exorcise every ounce of the panic and anxiety that had been polluting the air for hours.
The nurse at the front desk who had approached Liam when they arrived, blinked back tears and pretended to fix something on her computer, but Frankie saw her mouth the words “Thank God” to herself.
Frankie thought she’d seen every possible side of her mother, but nothing compared to the way she looked now, utterly wrecked and simultaneously radiant with joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she was a broken record, voice growing hoarser with every iteration. It took a full minute for her to finally release her iron hold on Liam, at which point she switched targets and started hugging AJ and Niko at the same time, like she needed her arms around all her children at once to convince herself that they were really here and really safe.
Liam, for his part, endured the onslaught like a veteran field medic, stiff at first, then softening as if realizing that, for once, it was okay to be held, to be fully embraced. When Frankie’s momfinally released him, he pivoted to face Tristan, who had gotten to his feet, still looking wrecked.
“Thanks,” Tristan managed, voice cracking. “Really. Thank you.”
