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ever before. I heard Risk’s voice, but it was lost on me what he was saying as I closed my eyes and inhaled my medicine. The familiar taste of albuterol coated my tongue as I sucked it down my windpipe and held it for a few seconds within my expanded lungs. Four or five more puffs were delivered from my inhaler before the world around me slowly began to come back into focus.

I didn’t know how much time had passed.

“Frankie, look at me. Baby, eyes on me,” Risk’s voice prompted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I answered, still breathing heavily. “I can breathe now.”

“Thank Christ.”

His arms came around me and I felt him kiss the side of my face. I didn’t have the energy to hug him back, only to breathe. I was exhausted. I have never had an attack that scared me so deeply before, nor one that left me feeling so utterly drained.

“What are you doing out here, Frank?”

“I . . . I needed to think.” I looked at Risk. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” he answered. “You left London before I could blink.”

I looked down. “Risk . . . what happened tonight . . . it’s a sign that we’re not meant to be together.”

“I’ve never believed in fate so I’m not gonna start now.”

My eyes found his. “A few hours ago you told me we were done forever.”

“That was before you told me . . . told me why you don’t know your songs.” He licked his lips. “I jumped the gun, Frankie. I didn’t stop to think about why you didn’t know them, I just reacted to the fact that you didn’t know them. The pain I felt consumed me. I thought . . . I really thought you blocked them out . . . blocked me out because . . . because . . .”

“Because you thought I was trying to erase you?” I finished. “Trying to forget you?”

At his nod, my heart clenched.

“Risk, I meant what I said. Erasing you would mean erasing myself. I could never do it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, looking simply defeated. “On Saturday I told you that you’re my muse, I asked if you heard my songs and you said you downloaded every album.”

“The instrumentals,” I explained. “I was too scared to buy the studio albums.”

“Cherry . . . we really need to talk about everything.”

“Right now?” I asked. “Because I really just want to go home and go to sleep.”

“I can’t wait—”

“You broke ma nose, ye fuckin’ bastard!”

I grabbed hold of Risk’s arms when his entire body tensed the second Owen spoke.

“Don’t! All he has is his strength, hitting us is his only weapon. Hitting you, hitting me . . . it’s all he has.”

Risk didn’t move, he just kept his eyes on my face. On the fresh cut above my eyebrow to the fading bruise on my cheek.

“You didn’t hurt your face accidentally last week, did you?”

I wasn’t keeping any more secrets from him.

“No,” I sniffled. “Owen hit me because I refused to tell you that he wanted to see you.”

Risk’s eyes closed and he was so tense that when he clamped his teeth together, his jaw popped. I felt him tremble with rage.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I whimpered. “I couldn’t because I knew you’d do this and you’re better than this, better than him.”

“Maybe I’m not!” Risk shouted, reaching out and taking hold of my arms. “Maybe I’m not, Frankie. Did it ever occur to you that I’m nothing? That you put me on a pedestal? That maybe I’m just a fucking junkie who can sing?”

Each word he spat felt like a slap in the face.

“No, none of that has ever occurred to me because it’s not fucking true!”

Risk looked weak, like life was suddenly too much for him.

“Believe me,” I pleaded. “You are a million times the man he is. You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for. So much more.”

I leaned in and rested my head against his.

“You need to let him go, all he and Freda did to you . . . it all needs to be let go. He should suffer with the weight of what he did, not you. Never you.”

Risk got to his feet and helped me to mine, I held tightly on to his arm and both Jacob and Tobias stepped forward, just in case Risk attacked Owen, but he didn’t. He simply stood and stared his abuser down. Owen had managed to get himself to his feet and was using the rail to support his weight.

“You hit her because you wanted to see me . . . why?”

“I . . . I raised ya,” he sputtered. “Ye have yer life because of me and my Freda!”

“I had a roof over my head because of you two, but I never had a life. You controlled me, beat me and tried to break me from the time I was five years old.”

Owen tried to string a sentence together but couldn’t; he likely didn’t know what to say to the truth when he couldn’t physically beat the person down like he had done to me, like he had once done to Risk.

“You’re nothing!” Risk bellowed at him. “Nothing. I used to cower at your feet like a scared dog. I begged my girl to keep your twisted secret. Your secret, not mine. What you did to me was your shame but I’ve been carrying it as my own all these years but I’m fucking done. You no-good waste of flesh. I’m done with anything to do with you. You’ll have no part of me, my mind and soul are free of you, you pathetic bastard.”

Owen lifted a shaking hand to his severely broken, gushing-with-blood nose.

“Turn around and leave.” Risk stepped forward. “Leave this town. Get the fuck out of Southwold. If you don’t, I’ll go public and tell everyone what an abusive, fat pussy you are. I’ll wreck Freda’s memory and expose her as a cruel, heartless cunt to those who hold her dear . . . I swear, Owen. I’ll ruin you way worse than you thought you ever ruined me.”

Owen was bobbing his head

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