Risk Keller.
My first and only boyfriend. I had never been interested in another relationship after we broke up. What started out as light-hearted and fun coupling turned into an intense burning passion very early on, and it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Risk. It was the reason why letting him go hurt so much. My heart needed an abundance of time to heal from the break that letting Risk go caused. Nine years later and I was still no closer to putting myself out there again.
I lifted my hands to my face and scrubbed my skin, trying to put all thoughts of Risk and our previous relationship to the back of my mind where it belonged. Another glance at the smitten kids in the booth Risk and I always shared was like a smack in the face and I willed my shift to end faster than ever before. I wanted to go home, take a shower, and put this day, and my thoughts, behind me.
I looked up to the door when the bell rang and I smiled when Enda Peterson strolled in. She was somewhat of an adopted auntie to me, she had been best friends with my mother since before I was born. I loved Enda . . . most of the time. The woman was as loyal as they come, but Lord, she was also a nosy old goat.
“Frankie, honey,” she smiled, her brown eyes gleaming. “Can I get a cheeseburger to go? I’ve just come from bingo. Before that I was visiting your mummy and I’m starved.”
“Coming right up, Auntie,” I chirped. “How is she? I haven’t spoken to Michael since this morning. It’s been a hectic day here.”
“She was in fine spirits. After she was bathed, she rested a lot.”
I was happy to hear that.
I turned to tell Joe what would likely be the last order of the night when the door opened once more and in ran an out-of-breath, red-faced, teenage girl. Once she spotted the young couple, she darted to their booth.
“I have tickets to see Blood Oath at Wembley this coming Monday!” she screamed with excitement. “My dad got them for us, isn’t he the best? But wait, it gets better! The band is coming to visit tomorrow, they’re rumoured to be attending the retirement ceremony for Mr Jones. He was the one who gifted them their first instruments, you know? May, Hayes and Risk are coming home! I bet Angel will be with them too!”
My heart stopped at her declaration and I knew good and well it had nothing to do with excitement. I felt Joe’s eyes on me from the kitchen, as well as Enda’s. The kids paid for their meal, then left the diner amidst laughter and excited squeals all the while tapping away on the screens of their phones. When the door closed, silence filled the space. I stared at the booth the kids just vacated and my heart began to pound.
“Frankie.” Enda tentatively inched her way closer to me. “Sweetie, are you okay?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “I’m not.”
I wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay and both Joe and Enda knew it. It’d been nine years since I saw him in person and not on the cover of a magazine, or on the evening news in passing. Nine whole years and I still wasn’t ready to face him. It didn’t matter what I wanted because one thing was certain and it was one thing that I couldn’t change.
Risk was coming home.
CHAPTER TWO
RISK
Fourteen years ago . . .
“Risk! Get out here, ye no good wee bastard!”
I waited for Owen Day, my foster father, to stop banging on my bedroom door before I opened it. I didn’t brace myself quick enough because as soon as there was space Owen’s hairy, fat arm jerked through the door and his hand clamped onto my hair. I shouted with surprise as both of my hands shot up to his, where I automatically tried to break his hold, but couldn’t because he was a strong man. Tall, heavy set and as mean as they come. I was starting to take a stretch, but I was skinny and no match for Owen’s brute strength and he knew it.
“I didn’t do anything!”
It was a phrase I had come to squawk almost every single time my name was bellowed.
“Yer were warned not to answer my wife back, boy.”
“I didn’t!” I panicked. “She told me to get my bag and get to school and I said okay!”
“Ye said it with an attitude, ya wee prick. I heard ye. Ye think because ya turned thirteen yesterday that ye can act up?”
“No! I don’t. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
He twisted his hand and it made me scream. I could feel strands of hair being ripped by the root from my scalp and it burned like hell. I smacked on Owen’s wrist twice before he forcefully pushed me back by the head and let go of my hair. I stumbled, tripped over my feet and landed flat on my arse. I groaned in pain as I lifted my hand to my head and rubbed, trying to lessen the stinging pain.
I saw Owen’s feet move closer to me and when I looked up I was knocked flat onto my back when his massive, meaty fist swung down and cracked me square in the jaw. For a second, I heard ringing in my ears and black dots skewed my vision. I shook my head and moaned in pain as fierce throbbing spread like wildfire over my jaw. I lifted my hands to my face and willed myself not to cry. I made a point to never cry in front of Owen or Freda, his wife, just so they would have no clue how much they broke me down.
“Get yer miserable hide to school.”
I swallowed down the metallic tang of blood.
“Yes, sir.”
My bedroom door was slammed shut and all of two seconds passed by before the tears started. Angrily, I wiped my face with the sleeve of my uniform jumper. I hated crying, I hated that Owen and Freda could hurt me enough to reduce me to tears. I pushed myself to my feet, grabbed my school bag and hooked the straps over my shoulders. I left my bedroom and went into the bathroom so I could gargle some water in my mouth. It tasted like I swallowed a litre of blood, but only a trickle came out when I spit into the sink.
I stuck my finger into my mouth and felt along the inside of my aching cheek. I hissed as the tip of my finger ran over a tiny, torn piece of flesh. When Owen punched me, the contact caused a tooth to slightly cut my cheek. It stung but it didn’t hurt anywhere close to how much my jaw pained me. I removed my finger then turned on the tap, bent down and filled my mouth up with water. I swished it around then spat it out.
I wiped my hands down on a hand towel, folded it neatly back in place and made sure all of the blood was gone from the sink before I turned the tap off. If I left a mess, the Days would tear my arse up. Those two were so full of anger and misery I always did what I could to avoid being a target but there were days, like today, that I couldn’t avoid their wrath. I didn’t get them. I mean, I knew why they fostered kids, for the money. I just didn’t get why they even bothered because it was as obvious as the day was long that they hated it. They hated me and they always had. I had known since I came to the Day household that I was never going to be part of their family. I had to refer to Owen and Freda by their names and never Mum and Dad. The first time I tried this, when I was five, I got my arse walloped until I could barely walk from the pain.
I made sure to never make that mistake ever again.
I was the first placement Owen and Freda ever had and I was the only foster kid to come into their household who was never adopted by a family. I was a long-term placement, not short-term like the kids who passed through. I had visits with families who seemed like they were too good to be true, happy and loving but not willing to take in a boy who couldn’t express joy like that. I always figured part of me was broken and wasn’t good enough to be with a real family, so I accepted the only one I would ever know would be with the Days.