#pelican's

An hour and a half later, your bag was halfway packed with a sundress, a nicer dress, two pairs of jeans, one bathing suit and various accessories - jewelry, makeup, your toiletries … and you still had no idea why. Chewing on your lip, you stared at the hangers, reaching out and pulling a dark denim jacket toward you, the material sliding over your fingers. “What are you up to Frankie Morales?” 

You hadn’t been able to get the full weekend before Valentine’s Day off from work, but knew that you had your Sunday free - which was the day you’d planned on seeing Frankie before returning to work on Monday and Tuesday. Days? It doesn’t make sense. But you trusted him - figuring that he was trying to keep you off balance with what he was actually doing with you, and so you didn’t worry too much, finishing with your bag and carrying it to your front hallway. 

Just as you settled onto the couch and reached for the remote, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of it opening. “I’m here.” You felt the usual rush of warmth throughout your body at the sound of Frankie’s voice and couldn’t stand up fast enough, rounding the back of the couch and making your way to where he stood. 

You didn’t wait for him to reach for you. Instead, you wound your arms around his neck, urging him to dip down and kiss you, lips seeking his without hesitation. It had only been a few months since you’d spent the night with him for the first time, but things were going well - the date between Christmas and New Year’s had led to a second, Frankie inviting you ring in the new year with him. 

That had led to much more, too. You were together, no doubt about it, and he’d called you his girlfriend to Pope the first time the man had been on the phone while you were with him. Unexpected but not unwanted, you’d crossed the room from where you were sitting on his couch, stepping behind him as he leaned against his kitchen counter and winding your arms around him, cheek pressed to his back and the smile on your face wide. 

It was fast, but it worked, and even though you were still learning Frankie’s behaviors and moods, you had no complaints about the way your relationship was unfolding. And he doesn’t seem to, either. You tasted mint on his breath, lips curling upward into a smile even as he pulled away from you, the smile remaining on his face. “What’s that for?”

“Because I couldn’t at the store.” You shrugged. “And because I have the day off tomorrow, and we can -” 

“About that.” He reached up, lifting his hat and resituating it atop his head. “Do you trust me?” What? Instead of questioning him, though, you only nodded, even though you knew you probably appeared confused. “I have a surprise for you.” 

“You do?” He nodded, expression solemn. “What is it?” Without warning, Frankie leaned in, lips hovering over your ear. 

“You don’t have to be back at work ‘til Wednesday.” What? He straightened up, grinning. “And I’m supposed to tell you that it’s just like the Disney trip with Lindy, whatever that means?” At that, all of your questions disappeared, a laugh erupting from the back of your throat as you closed your eyes. Thanks, Mom. “What’s so funny?”

“It means…” Inhaling deeply, you met his eyes again. “It means my mother’s gonna cover for me for a couple days while I shrug off responsibility and have a good time at the last minute.” He laughed, too, shrugging. “Did you go behind my back and talk to my -” “Maybe.” He reached for you, hands settling at your waist. “I know you tried to get time off, but you only asked people to switch … I went straight to the source.” You sure did. You didn’t like using your position as the owners’ daughter to get time off or special treatment at work, even though you knew that you could have. You worked in the office, not usually with customers, and it meant that you had more leeway than others did. But I can’t make that a habit. “Is that OK?” 

He was nervous - Frankie genuinely anxious to know what you thought about him securing extra time off for you without your knowledge, and you could tell that every moment you delayed answering, it got worse. “It is. But only if it means I get to spend more time with you.” Frankie wasn’t clingy, but he liked the reassurance, and you figured that it had a lot to do with the way Amelia’s mother had treated him. “Are we going somewhere, ‘Fish?” His grip tightened the way it always did when you used his nickname, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning, listening for either a yes or a no. 

He hummed in agreement instead, lowering his head to trail his mouth over the skin of your jaw and then down, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck before pulling away. “We are.” He looked excited, his eyes leaving your face and flicking over to the doorway. “And we’re leaving now.” 

That shocked you, though it also excited you, your teeth digging into the inside of your lower lip before you pushed him away, rolling your eyes. Alright, Frankie. Let’s see what you have planned. 

– 

It turned out that you were really going somewhere, Frankie attaching his phone to the dashboard mount and turning it so that you couldn’t see the screen before getting directions and pulling out of your driveway.

Under normal circumstances, you would have tried to figure out where you were going, but you realized that Frankie was trying hard to make the trip special, and you didn’t push for answers. I’ll figure it out eventually. 

Pensacola and Destin were ruled out as soon as you continued south on 79 in Ebro, and as you and Frankie kept up a steady stream of conversation, you realized where you were going: Panama City Beach. There are so many places there, though. I don’t… 

It wasn’t worth trying to comb through all of the options and so you didn’t, opting instead to reach over, settling your hand atop his knee and squeezing. “I’m excited to find out where we’re going, ‘Fish.” He stopped singing along with the radio, briefly turning his head to look at you. “I’ve never had someone take me out of town for a holiday before.” 

“Oh, there’s a holiday?” He hummed, narrowing his eyes. “What -”

“You’re an ass.” He laughed, hand moving down from the wheel to cover yours. “I’m serious, though. This is a really nice surprise, no matter where we end up.” He didn’t say anything else until you were pulling into the parking lot of the Sheraton, and you were speechless, too, the sprawling resort stretching out in front of you. This is where we’re staying? 

He put the truck into park and then turned it off, the keys dangling from the ignition. “I’ve never really … done this before either.” He shifted in his seat, turning to look at you as much as was possible. “But that first night, at my place?” You nodded, unsure of where he was going. “You said that any time you came to Panama City to meet someone, or had a date around here, they always …” He stopped himself, clearing his throat. “This isn’t a motel, and I’m not interested in one night of drinkin’ with you. I’m not them.” 

“I know.” Unbuckling your seatbelt, you inched closer, taking his hand and threading your fingers together. “I’ve never thought that about you, and this …this is a really nice hotel, Frankie” I know I’m not supposed to ask questions about money, but …  “You’re not working, and it had to have been exp-” “Don’t worry about what it costs.” He was smiling again, the apprehension leaving his eyes. “I wouldn’t have done this if I couldn’t afford it. And you deserve this, so I don’t want you to even think about any of that.” He gestured to the building with his chin. “Let me give you a nice couple days, alright?” 

It didn’t even cross your mind to try and talk him out of it, so instead you leaned in, kissing Frankie softly on the mouth and letting the tips of your fingers curl into the hair against the back of his neck. “Thank you. The words were whispered, but you knew that he’d heard them - just like he’d also hear the next ones. “We need to hurry up and check in, though. I wanna break the bed in.” 

“Keep talking like that and we might just break it.” He kissed you again and then moved away, pushing the door open and letting in a quick gust of the cool night air. “What’re you waiting for?” 

— 

You hadn’t broken the bed - though you’d knocked over the small table next to the chaise in front of the balcony door when you’d tried to use it for balance. Frankie had gripped the padding on the headboard so hard that you’d thought he would tear it free, the man’s short nails dragging down it as he’d all but collapsed on top of you, your sweat-slicked chests pressed together, his hands bracing the majority of his weight.

Instead of leaving the room to eat, he’d insisted on ordering room service while the two of you caught your breath and cleaned up, grumbling as he pulled a shirt on to answer the door and telling you to stay put - which, in Frankie-speak, meant ‘don’t put clothes on, just stay covered’. 

The meal - eaten in bed - led into another round with him; that one slow and focused, Frankie’s lips and tongue worshiping every inch of you that they found and coaxing you over the edge not once but twice more. 

You fell asleep in his arms, waking up to find him still pressed up against you from behind, one large hand cupping your breast and his bent leg hooked over yours. On the edge of sleep, you hoped that the two of you never graduated out of the ‘honeymoon’ phase of your relationship, because you loved waking up next to him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, and enjoying the warmth of his bare skin on yours. He wasn’t moving behind you, and so you willed yourself back to sleep, comforted by the weight of his arm and the slow, steady sound of his breaths. 

The beginning of the following day was busy, but not unpleasantly so. He’d signed you up for a visit to the spa, and you spent the late morning and early afternoon hours under the care of professionals for a heated sea stone massage, a facial and a manicure. They were luxuries you never afforded yourself - not because you couldn’t, but because you chose not to. That fact made the overall day much more special for you, though you couldn’t help wondering what Frankie was up to. Hope he didn’t just spend the day in our room by himself. 

He was laying on the freshly made bed when you returned to your room, muscles relaxed and your mind clear. He looks tan. You eyed him as he turned his head to look at you, lips quirking up into a smile at the sight. “You’re back. You look … massaged.” 

“There’s definitely something to be said about a stranger using hot stones on your skin for an hour and a half. I feel positively tenderized.” Lowering yourself onto the edge of the mattress, as he snorted back a quiet laugh, you leaned over to hug him. “I really appreciate today, ‘Fish. It was … amazing.” 

“It’s not over yet.” He sat up, wetting his lips. “Still got dinner.” There’s more? You felt an overwhelming rush of affection for the man - so much different than it had ever been with anyone else that you’d ever dated. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like him, but … I’m glad I do. “Had to make a reservation, too, with it bein’ a holiday and all.” 

“How long do I have?” You stretched out on the bed, curling your toes and knowing that Frankie was watching every movement. “I almost fell asleep on the table, and I’d love to take a nap before.” 

“You’ve got time.” He sighed. “I’m actually gonna go out onto the balcony and call Amelia. I had to wait ‘til her mom got out of work, so…” Fighting back a yawn, you waved him away, the man catching your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ll wake you up 45 minutes before we’ve gotta be there, is that alright?” Telling him it was, you rolled onto your side, closing your eyes. 

You were asleep before the sliding glass door closed behind him. 

— 

 As the two of you walked along the wooden planks leading out toward the resort’s private beach, you held Frankie’s hand tightly. He’d seemed a little off when he woke you up to tell you to get ready, his low voice whispering in your ear but not lingering the way he usually did. He’d only said that you needed to be comfortable and then disappeared back onto the balcony, shutting the door tightly behind him. 

You’d been confused then, and the feeling grew while you got dressed and then did your makeup, the bright light over the vanity illuminating every one of your changing facial expressions. By the time you left the room with him - Frankie dressed in a dark patterned button up and a pair of dark pants, you wearing a long flowing sundress with the denim jacket you’d packed - you were downright concerned. He’d been mostly silent though still attentive while you waited for the elevator, telling you that you looked gorgeous before planting a kiss on you that caught the corner of your mouth. 

That was it, though, Frankie staying quiet as you walked past the interior restaurants - TIDES packed, and Bar 72 busy. Even Flip Flops looked like it was on a wait, the two of you sidestepping people poolside as you headed for the boardwalk - and the restaurant near the end of it. I hope he’s OK. 

There were other people on the walkway, too, both ahead and behind you, but Frankie didn’t say a word until he gave his name at the host’s stand, squeezing your hand tighter as the young man confirmed the table for two. 

The restaurant - Pelican’s - wasn’t fancy by any means, but it suited the two of you. You caught the first flash of Frankie in almost an hour when he swatted your hand away as you went to pull out your own chair, his large hands wrapping around the top of it as he moved it away from the table. He waited until you sat to push it in, and before he circled around to the other side, you felt his fingers grazing over the back of your neck, lingering for just a few seconds longer than necessary. 

He met your eyes when you sat, and you saw the worry in them, the man chewing on his lower lip for a second before he spoke. “I know this isn’t… what you had in mind, but -” “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.” Gesturing to the menus, which were on the table, you moved your head back and forth without breaking eye contact. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He reached up, fingers poised to close around the bill of his hat - which he wasn’t wearing, Frankie closing his eyes briefly and lowering the hand back to rest it on the table. 

“Valentine’s Day is supposed to be romantic and all that shit. Women want -” Is that what this is about? 

“I don’t know about other women.” Scooting even closer to the table, you reached for his hand, squeezing it. “But this is what I want. The water. The breeze. Beer and tacos.” You nodded, winking. “You, Francisco.” 

You didn’t use his full name often, and that meant that you saw the impact it had on him by using it right then. Good. He needs to. “Are you sure?” You’d been irritated with the way that his ex had treated him in the past, but in that moment, you were downright mad, because whatever he’d been through with her had caused the uncertainty he was feeling with you - in a new relationship. Damn her. 

“I’m sure.” You squeezed once more and then pulled your hand away, picking up your menu. “But I’m also very hungry, so…” He actually laughed at that, and you saw his posture change, Frankie relaxing ever so slightly. “We should order, and then you can tell me where you got that shirt from, because I think you need about ten more of them in different colors and maybe a short sleeved version to go along with them.” 

His jaw dropped at your words, looking down and then back up, both eyebrows raised. “What? It’s just a -” “Oh, stop.” Pressing your lips together and keeping hold of the menu, you pointed at his chest with one finger, skin visible above the undone top buttons. “You’re wearing the hell out of it, ‘Fish. You’re the most attractive guy in this restaurant, and I am damn lucky to be here with you.” You could see the flush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks; tanned skin darkening just slightly in the twilight of the sunset behind him. 

Before he could respond, though, the server came over to introduce herself and take your drink order, and instead of embarrassing Frankie even more, you decided to let it go. But I’m right, you thought as you watched him speak to the woman, smile growing as he talked over a few menu items with her, gesturing with one large hand. I am lucky, and he is the best looking one here. 

— 

The meal was delicious, and though you’d protested at the overall cost of everything when coupled with the hotel, the spa day and the fact that he wouldn’t let you contribute, you’d both eaten enough to make the thought of walking all the way back to the resort uncomfortable. 

He’d been better throughout the meal, but he was still slightly off. You didn’t want to risk ruining the evening, but you needed to know why. So when he suggested walking over to the resort’s private beach and staying there for a little while instead of going back, you agreed. 

He paid with cash, leaving a large tip on the tabletop and then stood, reaching out and waiting patiently until you took his hand. He didn’t wrap his fingers around yours; instead, he linked them together, palm pressed flat against yours as you walked the short distance from the restaurant to the beach, the wooden boards creaking beneath your feet. 

The sound of the water lapping at the shore grew louder until the path ahead opened up on the sandy expanse, a short row of lounge chairs facing the water. “Hold on, let me drag a couple away from the…” He let go of you and slipped his shoes off before stepping onto the sand and making quick work of pulling two chairs away from the others and settling them at the base of a tall palm tree, the front legs sinking into a few inches of water. 

Taking your shoes off, too, you bent over to grab his and then walked to where he stood. Frankie had both hands partially stuffed into his pockets as he looked out and over the ocean, his gaze unfocused. You didn’t speak, instead dropping both pairs and then sitting down on one of the chairs and stretching your legs out and crossing them at the ankle, keeping your eyes on the water. 

You wanted to give him time - wanted to let the man speak only if he was ready to, but at the same time, you needed to know if there was something that you’d done that had changed his mood. But he was fine before he called Amelia. So it had to be … The realization hit you at the same time Frankie spoke, clearing his throat and tilting his chin down to look at you. “I’ve got somethin’ to tell you, and I didn’t want to say anything before we ate, but …” “Alright.” Despite the warmth of the night and your jacket, you felt a chill at his words, waiting until he’d lowered himself down onto the chair next to yours to continue. “I figured something was wrong. I… you’ve been different since I fell asleep earlier, and I -” “No, nothing’s… wrong. Not with you.” He’d linked his fingers together, and in the moonlight, you saw the way the pad of one thumb traced over the bullseye tattoo on his other hand, his eyes downcast. “I just … Remember how I told you on Christmas Eve that there was a lotta bad shit that I did? That we did?” You nodded, staying quiet. “And that I turned to some real, real bad shit to get through it?” “Yeah.” He’d opened up about how much he’d used, about how it had led to the loss of his pilot’s license during a random drug test, making finding work flying anything  impossible until he got - and stayed - clean. Your throat went dry at the thought that he was about to tell you that he’d used again;  that since he’d reconnected with you, he’d turned back to old habits. But as you stared over at him, Frankie’s eyes still cast down, you realized that you didn’t at all believe that was the case. But I should still ask. “Are you doing alright, Frankie? Is -” “I am.” He looked up when he said it, meeting your eyes. “I haven’t touched anything harder than pot in 15 months, and even that’s rare for me now.” For his PTSD. Shifting on the chair, you reached over, laying your hand atop both of his and were relieved to feel him reposition his thumbs, trapping your little finger beneath them. “That’s actually what … this is the first Valentine’s Day that I’ve been clean in years.” You couldn’t help the breath you sucked in at his admission, though you hoped the waves below your chairs masked it. That’s huge. That’s… You squeezed his hands tightly, still waiting. “And Amelia’s mom… Jo… she gave me shit about it when I called to talk to Amelia today.” “What?” You were angry at that, furious that the woman thought she had any right to say anything to him about the way he was living his life. “Why would she -” 

“She’s pissed that I could never do this when she was around, or when Amelia was real little.” He finally met your eyes, and the sadness in them was deep - unlike anything you’d ever seen from him before. “And I get it. It sucks. I’m pissed at myself, too. I made some bad goddamn choices, and they -” “Frankie.” Sitting up and swinging your legs off of the chair so that you could face him, you didn’t let go of his hands. “She can be as upset as she wants about what happened in the past, but right now? She should be happy that you - the father of her child - has his shit together and is able to be in her life in a meaningful way from here on out.” You had no right to speak about what had happened or what they’d been through together, but they’d been apart long enough for the woman to have gotten engaged to someone else, so there was no reason she should have been looking for ways to hurt the man in front of you. “She should be thrilled for you, ‘Fish.” 

“I told her I was here with you. That we were spendin’ another holiday together, and…” He trailed off. That’s what she’s mad about. That he’s here with … “I wanted her to know about you right away, because when it’s time for you to meet Amelia?” He said your name, waiting for you to lock eyes with him again. “I didn’t want her to think it was too quick.” It made sense - Frankie constantly thinking a couple steps ahead, planning for the eventuality of whatever came. Of what he wants. But wait, that means he’s already thinking about … “She knows how to get to me. It’s what happens when you’re with someone for as long as we were together.” 

“I’m sorry she ruined your day.” Trying to smile even though you were still focused on the fact that he was thinking about the future, you shrugged. “I wish there was something that I -” 

“She told me I could take you to all of the resorts that I wanted to, and give you the ‘good’ parts of me.” He pulled away from you, reaching up with one hand to swipe at the lower half of his face, and you could tell that his lip was curled even though you couldn’t see it beneath his palm. “Said that I could throw you off with a nice house and flyin’, but that when you found out what I really am?” He laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “Who I really am, and know about the shit that I’ve done? That I deserved whatever happened.” 

“She’s wrong.” You didn’t hesitate, moving quickly from the chair you were sitting on to the one he was, pressing yourself against his side and wrapping your arms around his slim waist. “The only thing you deserve is -” 

“No, she isn’t.” He took a long breath and held it, body stiffening, but after only a few seconds, he let it out, laying an arm over your shoulders. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. For us, and I figured that coming here would be …” He groaned, swearing under his breath in Spanish. “I never did this kind of shit before because I couldn’t. But that’s why I tried to balance it out, y’know?” 

“Tell me.” Adjusting your position so that you could lean your head against his shoulder, you waited. “Tell me what you’re trying to balance.” And why any of this is wrong. 

“Well the hotel, first. I woulda been happy in one of the beachfront places, and I think maybe you would have been, but I didn’t want to do what other guys have.” Ok, I get that. “And then earlier today… sendin’ you to the spa while I went golfing, because I figured you’d want to spend time apart, too.” That’s what you were doing. You couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Frankie on the green, cap pulled low over his brow while he figured out his next swing. Explains the sun he got. “But I wanted to come out here for dinner, because it felt more … normal, I guess? Better than sitting inside one of those stuffy rooms with tiny portions.” The man sighed deeply, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to…” “Today was great. Every single part of it.” You said his name, the man looking down to meet your eyes. “Including last night and this morning.” He couldn’t keep his lips from twitching at that, some of the darkness leaving his expression. “My parents own a grocery store, Frankie. I grew up with a lot more than some people, but I’m not exactly expecting caviar and diamonds on holidays.” You sat straight up, his eyes tracking your movement. “You could tell me you had a million dollars stashed somewhere because you won the lottery and I still wouldn’t expect anything from you except you.” 

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt him stiffen, his eyes widening marginally. Wonder what that’s about. But when Frankie spoke, his voice was soft, almost like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “You mean that.” Confirming his words with a nod, you reached up to trail your fingers over his cheek and then back, tucking hair behind his ear and giving the end of one curl a gentle tug. 

“I do. And to be honest, if you’d brought me to Panama City Beach and said we were going to spend a weekend in one of the motels, I probably would have given you shit for a minute, just as a joke… but there’s a difference between meeting someone there for the first time and going there with -” 

He cut you off with a kiss, raising his hand to cradle the line of your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours. Leaning into it, you dropped your hand to his thigh, fingers curling when Frankie drew your lip between his, the tip of his tongue flicking against the fullest part of it. You wanted to let him go on. In fact, you wanted to climb onto his lap right there on the beach, but you were in the open - and you had no interest in getting caught  by other guests or hotel security. 

He made it easier for you, though, pulling away and taking in a shuddering breath, tongue dragging over his lower lip and his eyes staying shut. “I want to tell you.” Tell me what? He opened his eyes and you were surprised to see that they were filled with resolve. “Everything. She said a lot of hurtful shit earlier, but she’s right about something. You finding out after it’s…” Swearing again, he gave himself a few seconds to compose his thoughts. “If I lose you, I want it to be because I tell you everything on my terms, not because it all just comes out.” Is that what happened with the two of you?

“That makes sense.” You barely got the words out. That moment was confirmation that whatever it was he had to tell you was likely much worse than you’d thought initially. Because he wouldn’t make this big a deal if it wasn’t. “Whatever you want. Whenever you want, it’s up to you. But don’t tell me because of what Jo said to you tonight.” You felt the water lapping at your toes - shockingly cold and making both of you look down in surprise. “We should move back, it’s gonna -” “We can go back to the room.” He tightened the arm around your shoulders briefly and then removed it. “It’s getting late.” It wasn’t too late, but the two of you hadn’t slept much the previous night, and Frankie hadn’t had a chance to take a nap like you had. And if he’s been worrying for the last couple hours, he has to be exhausted. 

The two of you walked back across the sand to the wooden planks, taking the time to put your shoes on after rinsing your feet. The restaurant was still busy, though less so than it had been while you ate, and you had no problem walking past the bar and back onto the main boardwalk, Frankie stopping you when you reached the wider section of boards about halfway back.

The sound of the water was louder there and the lights of the resort in the distance and the moon above were the only things illuminating his face. However, you were still hyper-focused on what he was doing, nearly holding your breath as you waited for him to explain. “I’m sorry I made you think something was wrong earlier.” He squeezed your hand. “It wasn’t you at all. Tonight’s been… no, you know what? The last couple of months have been incredible. If you’d asked me a year ago whether or not I’d ever…” 

It was endearing - the way the man was tripping over himself to explain what he was feeling, because it was so different than he usually was. He’d been hesitant with you on Christmas Eve and Christmas, but after that, less so. You could always count on him to say what he meant, speaking plainly and telling it like it was. But this is new. Frankie was truly saying the first thing that came to mind, giving you a look inside his head. I don’t like the reason, but the result is … not bad.

“You deserve good things, ‘Fish.” Taking both of his hands, you nodded up at him. “All around. And tonight has been great. This trip has been great. The last two months have been great. I wish there was someone to thank for that storm, because -” “I really fuckin’ like you.” He laughed at the end of it, the sound nervous, and your hold on him tightened. Yeah. Yeah, I … feel the same way. It was too soon to use that word, but the feeling was there, bubbling up in your chest the same way that the tide broke against the sand - the depth of your emotions as unpredictable as the waves, but just as steady. And why not tell him? 

“Good. Because I really fucking like you too.” He grinned at you then, the expression genuine, and he didn’t delay his next move - pulling you tight against his chest, his hands slipping beneath your unzipped jacket to press flat against the expanse of your back. “I’m proud of you, Frankie.” You knew he heard you, his breath catching at the declaration, his hands gripping you just a little tighter. And she should be too. “Now… let’s go back to the room. The masseuse did something to my back today that I think will be really good for your neck.” 

When Frankie pulled away from you, he barely gave you a chance to lower your arms before he’d grabbed your hand, pulling you back in the direction of the resort.