Free Out of Left Field by Morgan Kearns

more than I should.”
    “ That’s who you are, baby girl.” Slightly gnarled knuckles stroked over Frankie’s perfectly straight ones, and she once again hated the disease that had stolen so much from Charlotte Holden.
    Polio had killed many people, crippled many more. And though Frankie should be grateful her mother was alive and well, she still felt cheated sometimes. Well, she hadn’t been cheated. She harbored the resentment her mother didn’t.
    Frankie loved her mother. Loved taking care of her, but sometimes—a lot of the time—she wished she didn’t have to. Only because she wanted her mother to know a life free of pain, of struggle, of doctors and needles and crutches.
    “ Hey.” A light, loving pat on her hand brought Frankie out of her thoughts. Her mother smiled. “You disappeared on me again.”
    Frankie offered a tight, completely fake grin. “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
    Mom nodded. “You shouldn’t keep all that worry buried deep in your heart. It’ll give you an ulcer. If you don’t want to talk to me—” Her hands shot up when Frankie began to protest. “—that’s fine, but promise me you’ll talk to Christian. Or somebody. Anybody. Okay?”
    “ Okay.” Frankie wasn’t sure she could keep the promise. Christian would let her vent, but his disapproving commentary wouldn’t offer the relief she so desperately sought.
    “ Hello?”
    Speak of the devil.
    Christian sauntered into the kitchen with all the swagger of the beefcake he was. Dressed in jeans and a white wife beater, muscles flexing with each step, Frankie took the only comfort he’d give her.
    She stood and all but threw herself into his arms. He chuckled softly and wrapped her in a hug. As he held her tightly against his chest, she melted. Sobs bubbled up from her toes and rumbled out in pitiful explosions of emotions.
    “ Hey, baby. What’s wrong?” Christian gripped her shoulders and tried to ease her away enough to look in her face. She couldn’t let him see the pain in her eyes. When she didn’t budge or release the grip she had on his waist, he tightened his hold. With a particularly hard blubbering snuffle, she threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.
    “ She’s worried about Xavier,” she heard her mother say, adding, “Take care of her, okay?” before leaving the two of them alone.
    His chin moved against her temple with his nod. “Oh, honey.”
    She expected the lecture to begin, the condemnation, the accusation, but he just held her as she cried.
    Minutes ticked by filled with snuffles and sobs. She clung to Christian, accepting every ounce of strength he willingly offered. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. When she pulled away, he smiled at her.
    “ Feel better?”
    She nodded and snorted a soggy giggle. “Sorry.”
    He tugged her into his arms again, rubbing her back. “It’s what I’m here for.” He kissed her temple. “I love you.”
    “ I love you, too.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, feeling so much better. “Thanks.”
    Another sniff. She reached toward the counter to tug a tissue from the box and wiped her nose. Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scrutinizing her every move.
    “ So … you wanna talk about it?”
    “ No.”
    His jaw twitched. “Did he hurt you?”
    She felt her eyes bug out of her head. “No!”
    His face registered a whole lot of uh-huh, yeah . He stalked her until he’d gotten up close and personal. “Frank. Don’t screw with me.” His huge hands cupped her cheeks, his eyes intense. He towered over her, his protective scowl soothing her. She both loved and hated when he got like this. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
    She laughed, tried to shake her head, but his tight grip prevented any motion. “No, you do not need to kick his ass.”
    “ Then why are you cryin’ over him?” He released his hold and stepped back. The taut muscles into his jaw jumped. He tried to suffuse some calm,