“I held up my end of your warped little deal, and I have nothing else to say to you. So leave me alone.”
Dad watches me from where he’s sitting on the fake-leather sofa. “Don’t try to turn this around. I told you to stay away from that boy. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but you wouldn’t be in this situation if you had listened to me.”
“Is that what you believe?” I laugh, the sound bitter and razor-sharp. “I’m in this situation because you emotionally blackmailed me. If you’re going to throw it in my face, at least be honest.”
“Your dad is just looking out for you, Frankie.” Tyson gives me a halfhearted smile. “We don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I march over to the sofa and stand across from my dad, the coffee table between us. “In case it’s not perfectly clear, you failed. Because I am hurt, and it’s your fault.” Angry tears streak down my face. “You’re supposed to be this badass undercover cop, but instead of looking for the guy who is blackmailing Marco into stealing cars, you went after the victim.”
Tyson stares at the carpet like he wants to bolt.
“Marco was fifteen when his father went to prison, and some lowlife showed up and said he was responsible for his dad’s debt.” Thinking about the story makes me cry harder. “He had two options: pay the guy or watch his little sister get dragged away to foster care. I told you all this, and it didn’t even matter to you.”
Tyson’s head snaps up, and he gives Dad an incredulous look. Did Tyson know the whole story? Or did Dad leave out some of the details?
“Because he could’ve gone to the police,” Dad says.
Tyson looks over at Dad. “A fifteen-year-old living on his own in the Downs? If he narced to the cops, he would’ve ended up in the river, and you know it.” He pulls up his sleeve, exposing the black burns branded into the brown skin on his forearm. “This is the kind of shit that happens when the wrong people see you talking to the cops. It doesn’t matter if you were only giving them directions. You’ve worked in the Downs for a long time, man. But living there when you’re a kid is different.”
“We’re talking about my daughter,” Dad says through gritted teeth.
Tyson nods, but he doesn’t back down. He’s the only guy I know who isn’t intimidated by Dad. “I was there when Frankie was born. You think I’d let anything happen to her?” Tyson lowers his voice. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Are we done here?” I ask.
“I’m trying to protect you,” Dad says. “One day you’ll understand.”
I laugh. “Protect me? You’ve hurt me more than anyone. You made me give up the guy I love—and I did it. And I’ll stay away from him because you’ll ruin his life unless I act like the daughter you want—instead of the person I really am. You want to control me and you succeeded. Congratulations, Dad. Now you’re just like Mom.”
Tyson shoves his hands in his pockets and examines the carpet. Dad’s forehead furrows, as if I’m not making sense.
But for the first time, everything I’m doing makes perfect sense.
“I never asked you to pretend to be someone you’re not,” Dad says.
“You can tell yourself that, but we both know the truth. You haven’t trusted me since the DUI. I made a mistake. But mistakes aren’t allowed in Jimmy Devereux’s world, are they? You told me trust has to be earned, and maybe I haven’t done enough to earn yours. But you broke my trust when you followed me around and took pictures of my friends. And you haven’t earned mine back yet, either.”
*
I stay buried under the covers for the rest of the weekend. Dad knocks on my door a few times, but I pretend I’m asleep. I e-mail Abel and Lex and tell them Dad confiscated my phone for the weekend because I came home late on Friday night. I’m not ready to talk about what happened yet.
Marco texts me nineteen times, and every single message breaks my heart open wider.
i love you, frankie. the always kind.
please don’t walk away.
frankie, are you there?
i can’t lose you.
I read the texts over and over, even though I’m torturing myself. Why does this hurt so much? I realize it’s because Marco and I work, and my life was finally starting to work for the first time since Noah died.
Letting go of Marco isn’t the same as losing Noah.
Noah is gone forever. When his head hit the ground the last time, he never opened his eyes again. It wasn’t my fault, but I feel guilty for being the one who is still here.
But Marco’s pain is 100 percent my fault. I caused it.
I promised not to hurt him, and I did it anyway.
The reasons don’t matter if I’m the only one of us who knows them.
CHAPTER 35
THE WRONG REASONS
On Monday morning, I slide a note under my door to tell Dad I am staying home sick. Then I text Lex to let her know I don’t need a ride, and I turn off my phone. Reading Marco’s texts hurt too much. When I make the mistake of turning it back on a few hours later, there are dozens of texts from Lex.
cruz said u broke up with marco????
what the hell is going on!?
are u there?
don’t ignore me francesca devereux!!!