Sadness crawled through my spirit, and I chewed at the inside of my cheek as I tried to figure out what it was that I was feeling. To process through the panic that had overtaken me when I’d awaken, curled up in Evan’s arms just as dawn was cracking the sky.
This feeling that no matter what direction I went, I was going to lose.
There were so many complications. So many unknowns. More tragedy than he knew. Part of me wanted to protect him from it, sure he would be destroyed when he found out the truth, the other was still angry that he hadn’t been there to share in that pain with me.
I glanced at her, words close to a plea. “I’m worried I’m already in too deep, Carly. That little boy . . .” I trailed off, not even able to complete the thought.
That I was terrified I was going to lose them both. Terrified of the way I’d been drawn to that crib when I’d awoken. The way I couldn’t help but reach down and rub Everett’s little back, pray that he was whole and well, that he would have the chance to soar and fly.
Pray that his mother wouldn’t harm him in some way. That she wouldn’t harm Evan by trying to steal him away.
Scariest was the realization that I was praying that it wouldn’t harm me.
Attached.
Connected.
In love.
Overcome with it, I’d crawled out Evan’s window without making a sound, knowing I needed some time to process it all. To figure out where we were headed and if I was ready to go there because I sure as hell couldn’t seem to put on the brakes when Evan was in my space.
From zero to a hundred in a second flat.
No looking back.
“What do you feel when you look at Everett?” Her question was careful.
I swiped at the single tear that streaked down my cheek, huffing out a sound of disbelief. “Too much. Everything. Fear and jealousy and this bright, blinding love that I can’t stop.”
“You have to tell him,” she quietly urged, a supportive hand on my knee.
Sorrow gathered in my throat, thick and wobbly, and I struggled to swallow it down. “I know. I’m just . . . not sure I’m ready. Not sure that he is.”
Carly frowned. “You can’t keep it from him, Frankie. It’s not right. And with Everett . . .” she trailed off.
Guilt teetered around on unsteady feet.
“I’ll tell him. I will. I just . . . have to find the right time.”
The right way. The right words.
And pray they didn’t send him crumbling once and for all.
“You think there’s ever going to be the perfect time? That it will change how it will affect him? You’ve carried that around for years, Frankie, and it’s nearly destroyed you. You can’t keep shouldering all of that yourself. He needs to know.”
A tremble rolled through. “I know.”
“After that?” she pressed.
“We hope it doesn’t send him running across the country again.”
Milo came trotting out of my room, his nails clicking on the tile. He came right for me and burrowed his face in my lap. I petted him, fingers in his fur, a kiss to his head. “Hi, boy. You need to go outside? I’m sorry I was gone all night.”
He hopped around, all too excited for a pee.
Dog life.
If only ours could be that simple.
Carly waved me off. “Pssh . . . he didn’t even notice. I went in there to check on him a couple of times, and he was snoring away like an old man.”
“That’s because you are an old man, aren’t you?” I cooed as I rubbed both sides of his snout and kissed his wet nose.
I pushed to standing. “Come on, let’s go,” I called to him, heading toward the door where I kept his leash on a hook.
I hooked it to his collar and opened the door to the blazing morning light, the sun shining through the branches of the trees to warm the coming day. I led Milo across the porch and down the steps. He lifted his leg before my old boy went to sniffing away.
Movement startled me from behind, and I whipped around, a shriek getting free when I found Jack lurking ten feet away.
I scowled his direction, trying to look mad and irritated, praying it would cover up the creeping fear that slithered beneath my skin when I saw him leaned on the post of his porch.
“Mornin’,” he said, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I told him, turning my back.
“I’m sorry,” he said anyway.
I tossed a glare his way. “You threw a rock through my car window. I’m not sure apologies are accepted at this point.”
He heaved out a heavy sigh. “That was unacceptable. I know it. Surprised you didn’t have me hauled off to jail, honestly, or your dad over here to kick my ass.”
Gathering myself, I turned and stared at him.
Sure, he was a little burly and rough, but I’d never expected him to do something so explosive.
Did I not know him at all?
I wavered, taking him in like I might be able to see the guilt written on him. “Did you do it?”
He frowned. “You saw me do it, Frankie. Lost my temper. Know it was wrong. Like I said, I’m sorry.”
I didn’t see any flicker of recognition. No flash of guilt before it was tucked away.
I lifted my chin. “I’m not talkin’ about my window. I’m asking if you went over to Evan’s parents’ house yesterday.”
Genuine confusion filled his expression. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. If I go over there? You’ll know it because that punk will be getting his ass handed to him.”
Worry and disappointment shook my head.
Defiance lifted my chin, and I stared him down, showing no fear or submission. “Stay the hell away from him, Jack. I’m warning you.”
He laughed.
He took a step forward.
I took one back.
“You’re the one who always said never stop fighting for what’s most important to you. Never stop believing in what you want. Didn’t you, Frankie Leigh?” Thing was, when he said it, it was bitter.
Acid burning from his tongue. Apparently, he’d missed the memo on the meanin’.
Agitation flinted in the rays of the rising sun.
Palpable.
Visible.
“Just . . . stay away. From both of us,” I warned him again.
He chuckled low. “You act like I’m the intruder here, Frankie. Think it’s that prick who needs to watch his back. Maybe go back where he came from.”
Milo gave this weird, uneasy growl, like he felt the animosity clogging the air. I stood my ground, petting his head while I tried to wrap mine around the idea that Jack could have been responsible for this.
Act like I was his possession.
Like I’d made him promises when I hadn’t.
Without saying anything else, he strode over to his car and hopped inside, peeling out without looking back.
Twenty
Frankie Leigh
Thirteen Years Old
YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO GO THIS FAR.
Frankie grinned as she looked at Evan from over her shoulder, the way his hands bled with worry and protection, that look in his eye as he watched her, following her close up the slippery rocks toward the cliffs.
“Oh, come on, Evan. I want to jump!”
YOUR DAD IS GOING TO KICK MY ASS.
ARE YOU SCARED? she taunted.
He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Only thing I’m scared of is you getting hurt.” His rough, scraping voice touched her ears, and her stomach did another flip.
She turned and started to climb, trying to ignore the feeling.
“Every time we come out here, I end up having to carry you back to camp to get patched up,” he complained.
“That’s because I want you to carry me.” She said it aloud, but straight ahead so he couldn’t hear.
Needing to say it but not wanting him to know.
The roar of the waterfalls thundered through the air, the spra
y from the gushing waters hitting the lake below rising up to cover their heated skin as they played beneath the sun.
Evan couldn’t hear it.
But she knew he could feel it.
The vibration and the hum.
She wondered if he felt her heart doing the same. Going thrum, thrum, thrum as she looked back at him in his bathing suit as he climbed up behind her.
He was still skinny, but somehow, this summer he looked different. The red of his hair had lightened in the sun. His lips fuller. His shoulders wider.
Her eyes traced his scar, the whitened line that seemed to get smaller and less noticeable with every year that passed. She watched it like maybe she could keep it together, love him hard enough that it would never split open or fail, her eyes a glue that kept guard.
They made it to the top, where the cliffs opened up to the lake.
Breathtaking.
She looked back, and her lungs squeezed tighter.
Their family was below, swimming in the lake, splashing and roughhousing in the blue, tranquil waters.
Frankie ran across the streams, water splashing beneath her feet, and she raced over to her and Evan’s rock.
The one that looked like a cracked open heart. She climbed to the top of it and threw up her hands. “If we jumped from here, how high do you think we could fly?”
She almost sang it, a huge smile splitting her face.
He laughed a little, but he didn’t play along the way he used to when they were young. When he’d said he wished he could fly so incredibly high that they would soar to the stars.
“More like you’re going to fall and crack your head,” he grumbled.
She jumped anyway. But she lost her balance the second she hit the smooth, slick rock below.
Before she could tumble and fall, Evan rushed forward and grabbed her.
His hands on her skin.
He whirled her around, worry carved in his expression. “Damn it, Frankie. Would you be careful?” Emerald eyes traced her face, his mouth twisted in concern. “Don’t you know I can’t stand it when you get hurt? I swear, you ask for it.”
She touched his chest. Lightly. Just her fingertips. But she swore she saw the burst of light that came with it. This feeling that only existed with Evan Bryant. Something that kept growing and growing and was getting more confusing with each day that passed. “I can’t stand for you to hurt, either.”
For a moment, he stared, his chest rising fuller. Then he cracked a smile. “Only pain I’ve got is you . . . you know, the pain in my ass.”
She frowned. “Stop being a jerk, Evan. I’m bein’ serious. You’re my best friend.”
His brow drew together, somberly, and he pressed her hand tight over the spot on his chest that drummed. She wanted to press her ear to it so she could listen. “You’re my best friend, too. Always.”
Frankie suddenly felt all nervous and sweaty.
“What if I want you to be more than that?”
Her voice felt rough and scraggly, her stomach twisting with nerves. She was never shy, but she felt shy right then.
His eyes moved over her, dipping to her mouth. All of a sudden, he stepped back. “Don’t be stupid, Frankie.”
“I’m not. I mean it.”
He shook his head like he was mad. “You’re too young to even get it.”
Anger flashed through her like a fire. “I’m thirteen . . . you’re fifteen. Big whoop.”
They were in that one month when he was only two years older than her, and it’d become her favorite month of the year. She couldn’t stand the thought of him growing up without her. With him looking at her like she was stupid and small. She really, really hated it when he pointed it out.
He laughed a frustrated sound, and his hands were flying. FRANKIE, WE AREN’T GETTING MARRIED OR HAVING BABIES OR LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER. WE WERE JUST LITTLE KIDS. YOU NEED TO GET OVER THAT.
I DON’T WANT TO GET OVER IT. She signed the words between them, mad and hard and trying to ignore the urge to shove him against the chest.
“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” His weird voice that she loved gushed across her face.
“If we fight hard enough for it, we do.”
He turned his face away, like now he really was in pain, then he looked back at her and took her by the hand. “Let’s just jump, Frankie. Jump. Maybe if we jump high enough, we can soar to another place where I could be different. Normal.”
He used to say stuff like that when they were little and it felt fun and hopeful and the only thing they needed in the world was to believe.
Today the only thing those words did was make her sad.
“I don’t want you normal. I want you just like this.”
His head shook. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
Evan – Fifteen Years Old
Do you know that moment in life when you realize you’re a complete idiot? When you slam face-first into reality after you’ve been living in some kind of fantasy?
A world where everything is glitter and gold and words are magic.
Hope.
Belief.
Faith.
Evan guessed he’d lost every single one of them that day. Earlier that morning when he was sitting in the doctor’s office for his regular check-up and the doctor had told him that he wanted to talk, man-to-man.
Evan was fifteen. He figured it was about fucking time since most people treated him like he was a little kid.
Dumb and stupid and ignorant.
Turned out, he was ignorant after all.
Sure, he’d always known he would die young.
Was he okay with it?
No.
But somewhere along the way, he’d accepted it would be his fate even though that meant living with the normalcy of fear, a huge burden he’d carried around day to day, like his backpack always weighed just a little bit heavier.
Only thing that made it okay was he’d never stopped believing that there was a place after death, that this world was too full of miracles and wonders and beauty to believe there wasn’t something waiting out there that might even be better.
Still, there were so many nights he’d lain awake as a little boy with his broken heart pounding out of control, hammering at his chest with a suffocating kind of anxiety.
Wondering which day would be the end. But he thought he’d always been more scared of leaving behind the ones that he loved most than anything. The one’s that worried for him.
Mostly his mother.
Kale, of course.
His baby sister once she was born.
Hardest part was Frankie Leigh, this girl who had always been by his side.
His best friend, even though he’d always known they were more than that.
Intertwined in an extraordinary way.
Like they were part of the same person, and it’d seemed impossible to separate the two.
She’d always been this light . . . this feeling that would come over him when she came into the room . . . shining this bright ray of hope that whispered that maybe he could be normal after all.
That maybe their connection and bond was so great she could keep him bound here in this world for longer. That all those silly games they’d played as kids, ones where they got married and played house and had ten kids might actually be in their future.
Something meant for him.
Evan realized he’d never really even contemplated it before then.
It’d just felt natural.
Like it was the most logical progression they would take as they grew up and got older and just kept living for each other because he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
Maybe that’d started to dwindle a bit when he’d hit about twelve or thirteen.
When the illusion had begun to fade and reality had started to infiltrate his consciousness.
It’d finally hit him like a sledgehammer this morning when the doctor had cracked some joke about him betting that Eva
n was a ladies’ man before his expression had gone grim, like he’d been trying to lighten the mood before he’d dragged Evan into a darkness he hadn’t been prepared to walk.
His doctor had carefully explained what his genetic defects actually meant.
Of course, Evan had known he’d inherited his bad heart and deafness from his biological father’s side of the family. Knew fragments of the messed-up story about how his aunt had died from cardiac failure when she was in her twenties without anyone knowing she was even sick.
How Kale had said thank God Evan’s had been discovered early.
That he was lucky.
For years, Evan had heard the murmurs and the rumors and secrets his mom and dad had whispered to each other when they’d been protecting him so fiercely and trying to offer him the most normal life that they could.
He’d just never fully put two and two together.
Not until the doctor was telling him he had to take every precaution, especially now that he was older. How the man had told him it didn’t matter if he had a girlfriend yet or not, he wanted him to start carrying condoms around wherever he went. He’d gone as far to suggest that if Evan could handle it, it would be best for him to just abstain like some kind of fucking monk without a voice.
How he was a carrier.
A disease.
A fucking threat to family and society.
Evan finally realized in that moment that his life was never fucking going to be normal because he wasn’t normal. Didn’t matter how badly everyone around him wanted to pretend that he was.
Case in point: Frankie Leigh.
Fucking Frankie Leigh who was dancing around the campfire like the wild child that she was, her brown hair nothing but gold streaks and flames, wearing one of her ridiculous pink tutu skirts and these godawful socks and her pink Chucks that were getting covered in soot and ash.
She didn’t care.
All she cared about was soaring.
Flying.
His unicorn girl.
Their families were laughing as they told stories by the fire where they camped out in their favorite spot by the lake. Same place they’d been coming for years.
Hold on to Hope Page 20
