Free Losing Francesca by J. A. Huss Page A

gets hurt, not her.
    Only this time, instead of wandering alone in the woods desperately trying to find a girl the only way a small child knows how to, you'll end up on the other end of a bottle of tequila, or in a parking lot fight outside of a bar, or back in jail for any number of self-destructive things you relished before the parents died and forced you to learn how to put your little brothers first.
    That's how these doubts start.
    But after a few more minutes of trudging through the thick shrubbery that lines the beach near the lake, these doubts are more than a swarm. They are an invasion. And I'm pretty fucking sure that I'll never be able to stop asking her for confirmation. I need something from her, some kind of acknowledgment that this is real.
    "Fee," I say, knowing full well she's not going to like me calling her that. "Just let me ask you one question."
    "No," she says without hesitation and then squeals when a thin branch swings back and slaps her in the cheek.
    "Oh, sorry." I cup her face so I can get a better look at the red welt that is creeping up. "I think you'll live."
    "I don't want to answer questions, Brody. So don't ask, or you will ruin this day for me, and seriously—" She stops here and grabs my arm. "Seriously," she repeats, "I need this day to stay good right now. I need this, Brody. Please don't ruin it."
    How can I say no to that?
    I settle for taking her hand and leading her the rest of the way to the beach.
    Lake Erie beaches are sporadic because of the cliffs that dominate most of the shoreline, and they are not always sandy. Sometimes there are no beaches at all, just cliffs. And sometimes there are large expanses of sand, because some local recreation department trucks it in every summer. The beach near the mouth of this little creek is neither of those. There's no cliff because, well, it's the mouth. And there's not a lot of sand because no one has done anything to this beach, maybe ever. It's mostly small stones and bits of glass that have been polished smooth over the years, with a few sandy patches here and there around the weedy reeds that pop out every few feet.
    It's a wide area, wider than most untouched portions along this coastline, and it's teeming with wild birds trying to settle into the early evening. I know we've got a few hours until the sun goes down, so we can afford to spend a bit of time out here before heading back.
    That's if she wants to go back.
    Secretly I'm wishing she'd ask to come live at my house.
    I smile at this and she catches it. "What's funny in there?" she asks, thumping her finger against my head.
    "Nothing," I lie and pull her through the remaining underbrush and out onto the beach. "Well, here it is, Lake Erie." I throw my arms out wide and wait for her reaction.
    "Wow, I had no idea it would be so big! Mrs. Marco was right, it's like an ocean." Her nose crinkles as she sniffs. "Except it smells like…"
    I laugh. "Lake. It smells like lake. It's very different from the ocean, isn't it?"
    "Yeah, this is really nothing like the ocean where I live."
    "Which is where?" I venture.
    She gives me a sideways glance and quips, "Nice try."
    I keep her hand as I walk over towards a sandy spot near the shore and pull her down with me so we can sit and watch the water do its thing. There's no wind today, it's calm and still quite hot and humid for early evening, so the waves are almost non-existent. They lap gently up to within a few feet from us, then recede with just as little fanfare. Still, the sound is calming. Fiona pulls her legs into her chest and rests her head on her knees.
    "What are you thinking about?" I ask as I skip some stones across the water.
    "My dad. It breaks my heart to think of him picturing me here with the Sullivans. I bet he is so sad."
    "Maybe he can come visit?"
    She throws me a very dirty look.
    "What? They won't let him?"
    She holds her words inside with her secrets.
    I lie back on the beach and put my hands behind my head. "So,