Page 26 of Long Hard Fall

He’d ask his parents, but he doubted they knew. As open as Frankie was, she would’ve told him. Maybe his mom would be more open to his relationship with her now that she was getting divorced.

D-i-v-o-r-c-e. How did an adult kid handle his parents’ split? He was an adult. Did that mean it shouldn’t bother him? Or that it should upset him less? More? No, it had to be pretty traumatic for a kid. Listening to them argue and then watching Mom dissolve into tears was shittier when he was a kid. If they had split, he would’ve been shattered. And would’ve felt one hundred percent responsible. Now, he knew it was mostly on Dad.

It was still shitty as an adult, and it hadn’t even fully sunk in yet.

“Nice place.” Abbi jerked him out of his musings.

Frankie’s place was homey. Colorful needlepoint adorned the walls, flowers and uplifting sayings. Her furniture was dated but in good condition. Candles decorated shelves and end tables, giving the place a fresh atmosphere.

Meows greeted them. A sizeable orange tabby prowled toward them.

“Look at him,” Abbi cooed and dropped to a crouch. The cat bypassed her to twine around his legs. Abbi laughed. “You do attract the pussy. Where’s the other one?”

“This must be Dutchie, if Baron is the one that acts like he doesn’t give a crap.”

Abbi scratched a purring Dutchie under the chin. “Baron can’t hide from me.”

“Make sure she’s okay. I’ll find their food and load it up just in case Frankie doesn’t come home today.”

His chest grew heavy again. Hearing Frankie was sick had sent panic coursing through him. There was so much he hadn’t told her. Like how grateful he was that she’d come into his life. He had a great relationship with Gram, but she had five boys and ten grandchildren. He’d had Frankie for himself, and when they talked each week, he was free to be himself. Not the prefect son, not the perfect one-nighter, not the fun-loving cousin. Just Cash.

He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets until he found cat food.

Did Frankie think he was ashamed of her and who his birth mom was? He’d never contacted her outside of the diner. They’d written letters back and forth when he was gone, simple letters that updated each other’s on goings-on. He’d never taken her out to eat or invited her over for supper. Had Frankie ever ridden a horse? Would she?

She was less than twenty years older than his dad. She’d had Holly when she was a teenager as far as Cash knew, and she’d talked about cutting down her hours but couldn’t officially retire. Dad had just turned fifty. He’d been a young twenty-two when Cash had been born. Too young for a wild man like him to settle down with a wife and kid. A kid who wasn’t his wife’s.

“What’s wrong?” Abbi came into the kitchen, holding a disgruntled calico. She lowered Baron to the floor and the kitty scurried away.

Cash topped off the cat dishes with food and water. Abbi’s gaze burned a hole in his back as he did so.

“Just thinking,” he finally answered.

“You’ve had some curveballs thrown at you in the last twenty-four hours.”

He sank back against the counter. Pressure drained from him. Abbi wasn’t prying into his thoughts, but she understood.

Abbi sauntered in front of him and cupped his face. “It sucks now, but it’ll be okay. It’s obvious they all love you. It’s them who have to learn to get along, not you who has to moderate or decide who gets your time.”

She’d nailed it. He’d felt like such a traitor for years for associating with his own damn grandma. He’d felt like he was the one who’d betrayed his mom for being born, and not his dad.

Cash laid his hat on the counter and twined his arms around Abbi’s waist. Heat infused her eyes and she pressed against him.

Her body against his was as good as before. Did she remember?

“Has any of that night come back to you?” he murmured.

Her lips parted and her gaze swept over his lips. “Some of it. The specifics are…fuzzy.”

“Do you remember this?” He dropped his head and caught her lips. A slow press at first. She tasted better than he recalled. No beer concealed her natural flavor this time. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.

She rose to her tiptoes and snaked her arms around his neck. Their kiss deepened, and they both groaned. Blood rushed south until he considered spinning them around and stripping her down. His hands skimmed to her sides and under her sweater. Soft skin shivered with pleasure as he traced his fingers along the waist of her jeans and danced higher until they hit her bra.

Yes, this was what he needed. A bare Abbi in his hands. She moaned when he splayed his hands on her back and massaged in small circles. If she writhed against him anymore, he’d have to rip his pants off and take her on the floor.

A cat mewled. Cash ripped himself away, simultaneously pushing Abbi from his body and his growing erection.

He panted like he had to catch his breath. Dutchie meowed again and glided around their legs.

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