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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FRANKIE

Sometime later, after much coaxing from Gran, I made a call.

“Hi, Mac,” I said, wincing from the pain. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I could do with your help.”

“Of course. Is everything okay?” I hadn’t meant to panic him, but it was there in his voice.

“Can you come round to Gran’s? I’ll tell you everything then.” I grunted as I sat on the sofa, holding my ribs.

“Is she okay?” I heard him moving around before he carried on. “Never mind. I’ll see you in fifteen, maybe ten.”

“Don’t rush, please. It’s not urgent, but…” I took a pained breath. “Just get here.”

I put the phone down on the coffee table and eyed Gran while she made tea. Her cure-all, she said.

“How many times have I told you to come and live here? She might be your mum, but the minute Logan was born, it was like you didn’t exist, and as for Brian, I knew he was bad news the moment I laid eyes on him. I didn’t think he’d want to kill you, though.”

“You and me both,” I agreed, but deep down, I knew what she said was the truth. I dabbed at the cut on my face with the damp cotton wool pad Gran had given me.

Fuck, I looked awful, and it hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my side. I was sure I had a broken rib, maybe even two, and I probably should have gone to the hospital, but common sense had flown out of the window, and instead, I’d run to Gran’s house, the only place I truly felt safe.

“Why did this happen? Why did that bastard Brian beat you?”

Regret at bringing her into this filled me, but I had nowhere else to turn. “Someone saw me with Mac, but it’s not his fault.” And it wasn’t. I should be allowed to go out with who I wanted. It was Brian with the problem.

“Here, drink this. It’s got plenty of sugar in it. Good for shock.” She sat down opposite me, her own cup cradled in her hand, worry etched into her face.

I sipped the tea and hissed as the hot cup rested against my busted lip. Brian had done a number on me this time; the beating was far worse than anything he’d done before, and as each blow rained down, his anger had grown.

I shivered and took another sip. Was it really that cold in here? I wrapped the blanket Gran had given me tighter around me.

“You should really be in the hospital, not sitting here. I’ll have that man’s guts for garters if he lays one more hand on you.”

“He won’t do it again, Gran. I promise.” But I’d said that before and still stayed. This time, though, I was adamant. Next time he’d kill me, I was sure of it.

Rain splattered against the window, the air much cooler, and I was thankful I could wear my hoodies. They hid the bruises more than makeup ever could.

“And you won’t tell me what happened?” She reached across the table and gripped my hand. “You’re my blood, Frankie. I know you love your mum, but when was the last time she protected you?”

The answer was never. We both knew that, but I’d lived hoping one day she’d remember I was her son, too.

The doorbell rang, surprising us both. It had barely been ten minutes.

“I’ll get it,” she said, and with difficulty, got to her feet.

Seconds later, Mac rushed in. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Fuck, look at the state of you.” He knelt before me, and with tender fingers, swept the hair from my face.

“His bloody stepfather beat him black and blue. I told Frankie, I said if I ever set eyes on him again, this old gal won’t be responsible for her actions. No one touches my grandson like that.”

“Gran…”

“Don’t you ‘Gran’ me. He could have killed you, and then what would I do?” She untucked a handkerchief from the cuff of her cardigan and dabbed at her eyes.

“Where does it hurt most?” Mac continued to look at me, his face tight, eyes assessing every cut and bruise.

I nodded, tears forming. “My ribs. I thought he was going to kill me. I’ve never seen him like that before.”