“You good?” Seth asked.
I swiped at the blood I could feel dripping down my chin. “Yup. Good as fucking new.”
“You’re not fine. Look at you. You are a mess. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. We need to get you to a hospital.”
I DON’T NEED A HOSPITAL, FRANKIE. I let a bit of frustration weave into the response.
She shook her head. YES, YOU DO.
NO, I DON’T.
Seth bent his knees to sink down in front of me. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” I told him.
He gave a tight nod. “Okay then. I’m going to take him down and process him. See if I can get him to confess about what’s been going on around here. You two try not to touch anything on the porch. I’ll have someone come tomorrow to dust for prints. Problem is, Jack lives next door. A print of his on Frankie’s porch isn’t going to be all that condemning.”
Seth looked skeptical.
About everything.
I was, too.
“Okay.”
Seth straightened to standing, hesitated. “You’re sure you’re good? Face is busted up pretty bad, man.”
“I’m good.”
Frankie and I watched Seth head back to his cruiser.
Tension bound the air, something unsettled and wrong.
When he pulled back out onto the street, Frankie moved to get onto her feet, still bent over and extending a hand. “Come on, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”
I took it, groaning a bit as I forced myself to standing.
Warily, I followed behind her, our fingers loosely threaded as she slowly made her way up to the house. Neither of us touched the railing, and we were careful to sidestep the letters the best that we could. She opened the door to Milo who looked like he’d been scratching at the window the entire time, frantic and worried himself, trying to get out to do a little protecting of his own.
I scratched his head when he did a circle around my legs. “Good boy.”
I followed Frankie through the great room of her house to a small hallway that opened up to two bedrooms on each side. She led me into the one on the right, not slowing as she started toward the bathroom attached at the back.
My gaze jumped around to take it all in.
It was so completely Frankie Leigh it was ridiculous.
A pink comforter and purple sheets and a ton of mismatched pillows piled on her unmade bed. Bright pictures covered every inch of the walls. Covering the floor was about everything she owned, the room a disaster, clothes strewn everywhere, clearly the girl trying things on and tossing them to the floor before she went to digging through her closet again.
A whirlwind.
A tornado.
My unicorn girl.
I followed her the rest of the way into the bathroom. She flipped on the light and I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. I cringed.
“Do you get it now?” she demanded. No question, the words had come out mad.
“Get what, Frankie? That I would do anything for you? Protect you? Fight for you? Love you? Whatever the hell it takes?”
She went to gnawing at her bottom lip, and I was having to fight the urge to do it for her. She reached into the cabinet under the sink, grabbed a hand towel, and ran it under water. She didn’t look at me for the longest time, the energy thick in the small space, banging against the walls.
Finally, she turned and peeked up at me, dabbing the towel on the corner of my mouth where I had a cut.
I winced as she cleaned it.
“I can’t stand to see you hurt,” she murmured.
My head shook, and I grabbed her by the waist so I could set her on the counter. I planted my hands on either side of her, dipping down so we were close enough that our noses brushed and our breaths mingled and I was inhaling all the sweetness that was this girl.
She tried to look down, and I reached out and tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at me. Roughness scraped my throat, fragments of aggression still twitching through my muscles. I brushed back the hair that was matted to her face. “You always thought you were supposed to take care of me, Frankie Leigh, when it’s always been my job to take care of you.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s . . . it’s not safe for you to get yourself in the middle of what just went down. God, Evan, what would have happened if—” She stopped mid-sentence like she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Figured I would finish for her. “If my heart stopped?” I swallowed down the bitterness. The feelings of inadequacy. “Don’t you get it, Frankie? Don’t you get that was part of the reason I had to go? I couldn’t stand to live my life with you thinking you had to take care of me. Thinking I was weak. Like I was some sort of pathetic kid.”
I spread my hand across her cheek, holding her, praying she could feel the truth of what I was trying to say. “All I ever wanted was to love you right. Be enough of a man to do it. To stand for you. To protect you. To take care of you. I never wanted you to see me as a burden. As a weight.”
Her fingertips fluttered over my jaw, barely touching my lips. Thing was, I didn’t give a fuck about a few scrapes or bruises. Only thing I cared about was making this right.
Protecting my family.
Loving her the way she needed.
Those fingers kept tracing my face. “I never thought that, Evan. Not even once. You were my hero. The one I looked up to. You were the one I needed most.”
I dipped down lower, inhaling the girl, nose running the length of her jaw.
Cotton candy and sugarplum drizzle.
“Then let me take care of you, Frankie. Let me stand in the fire. Let me be the one who fights for you. For Everett. For us.”
I spread my hands around her waist, stretching out my fingers so I could hold her tight. I pressed my lips against hers and whispered the words. “Let me love you.”
Cinnamon eyes flared, fingers digging into my shoulders. “As long as you promise you’ll never stop.”
“Never.” My mouth crashed against hers, and she was in my arms.
I was kissing her like my life depended on it, and I was pretty damned sure that was the case. This gorgeous girl who had been purposed for my life.
Written in my stars.
I thought maybe every single one of us had our own constellation.
A map drawn out in the heavens.
An intricate design that had been created just for us.
If that were the case?
Then Frankie Leigh was my North Star.
Twenty-Three
Frankie Leigh
Evan carried me into my bedroom.
Like that was exactly what he had been made to do. His arms made in the perfect shape to hold me. To cherish and adore me.
The same as I had been made for him.
A flawless give and take.
He wrapped a hand in my hair, the man controlling the desperate, urgent kiss as he moved for my bed.
With each step he took, he stirred the energy that flash-fired through the space.
Lapping up and rising higher.
Flames licking my flesh. A need unlike anything I’d ever experienced pouring into my body.
“Frankie,” he rumbled at my mouth. So seductive. So right. “Never. I’ll never stop loving you. I never did. How could I? Not when it’s always supposed to have been me and Frankie Leigh.”
Oh God.
His words hit me like a straight shot to the heart, everything a thunder as it raced through my veins, my spirit desperate to reclaim what I’d thought would be lost forever.
My hands made a desperate play to touch him everywhere. Rushing over the rugged sides of his face and smoothing at his neck, fingertips digging into his shoulders.
His lips pushed and pulled and danced over mine.
Tongues tangling as we fought to get as close to the other as we possibly could.
Distance was no longer an option.
“Evan,” I whimpered at his mouth, k
nowing he could feel me. That he would drink down my words through the fierce connection that only he and I could share. “I love you. I never stopped for a day. Not for a second.”
It was a murmur of need.
A flood of desire.
A declaration of devotion.
Our connection spun through my room.
Fierce.
Stronger than it had ever been.
He grunted a rugged sound. Every touch of his hands read every innuendo and intimation, his breaths jutting out to brush my heated skin.
I shook in anticipation. In this want that had simmered for years that now had reached an all-out boil.
It felt like all the molecules that had been scattered in our separation, lost in our dissolution, had gathered to a pinpoint.
A ferocious, unrelenting force that wrapped and knitted and interlaced.
Threading us together in the most intricate way.
In a way that could never be undone.
Every stitch dependent on the other.
Carefully, he laid me out on the mattress before he straightened.
I pushed up on my hands, soul arching for him. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”
He stood at the side of my bed and looked down at me like I was the rising sun when for so long his world had gone dim. Tenderly, he cupped my cheek. “I will stay with you for as long as my heart will allow. It’s always belonged to you, anyway.”
He was cast in lapping shadows, a silhouette of everything I’d ever dreamed could be mine.
His wide chest was still heavin’ from the exertion, his face battered and bruised and the most beautiful thing that I’d ever seen.
I WAS MADE FOR YOU, FRANKIE LEIGH. JUST LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME.
The stroke of his hands was powerful.
A current raced with each movement, a promise reaching out to rush over me as he signed his forever in the dense, dense air.
Something flashed across that beautiful face.
Hesitancy and resolution.
“Just have to make sure this is the life you want, Frankie Leigh.” His rough voice scraped the air, words like blades that cut through every question and worry and hurt.
He fisted his hands at his sides. “Because I think we both know there is no coming back from this. I touch you tonight? It’s done. I’ve gone without you for too long, and I promise you, I’m not about to let go of you again. But you need to know . . . Everett is now a part of me. You want me? He’s going to be a part of that package. And I don’t know if he’s inherited this affliction. If this life is going to be spent fighting for his health the way my life was.”
He fisted a hand at his chest, torment bleeding out of him at the idea.
“This life might not be easy, and you need to know what you’re signing up for.”
Emotion gripped every cell, that atmosphere charged.
A crack that shifted everything.
Our worlds and our minds.
I sat up so I could sign, a torrent of passion in my hands.
AM I SURE I WANT THIS LIFE?
My head angled in emphasis.
ARE YOU ASKING ME IF I BELIEVE IN WHO WE WERE MEANT TO BE? IF I CAN LOVE YOUR SON? BECAUSE I THINK A PART OF ME FELL IN LOVE WITH EVERETT THE MOMENT I SAW HIM. I COULD FEEL HIM, EVAN, THE SAME WAY AS I ALWAYS FELT YOU. AND HE IS WORTH EVERY SECOND OF WORRY.
My motions tightened, a confession that cut through the tension.
SO YOU WANT TO KNOW IF THIS IS THE LIFE I WANT TO LIVE?
Could feel my brow knitting with the severity.
A LIFE WITHOUT YOU WOULD BE LIVING WITH A HOLE CARVED INSIDE OF ME IN THE SHAPE OF YOU. AND I’M SITTING HERE, RIGHT NOW, ASKING YOU TO FILL IT.
I leaned back on my elbows, begging him to meet me there.
Evan exhaled a harsh breath, the man never taking his eyes off me as he slowly peeled his shirt over his head. The ridges of his defined abs came into view, his chest, his shoulders, that face.
The scar.
Love blistered, a searing heatwave that blasted through my room.
He tossed the soiled fabric to the floor before he kicked off his shoes. He flicked through the buttons on his jeans at the same time.
Energy crashed.
Need rising so fast that I was immediately drenched.
I pressed my knees together like that might be able to staunch the desire that begged and throbbed as I watched him undress. His jeans getting shoved down off his hips and free of his ankles, muscle packed and sinewy, his strength that others had refused to recognize so distinct.
My fighter.
My survivor.
The man the utter breath of existence.
The sight of him standing there in my room stole a gasp from my lungs and twisted my belly into a thousand needy knots.
“How’s it possible you are so beautiful, Evan? How’s it possible that you make me feel this way?”
Planting a knee on the bed, he began to climb over me, coming closer and closer until he was the only thing I could breathe. Those eyes drank me in as he gathered my shirt at the hem. “You are the definition of beauty, Frankie Leigh.”
He slowly dragged it off, the long curls of my hair falling down to tickle my bare shoulders and back.
I was overcome with the weight of Evan’s attention as he gazed down at me as he tossed the fabric aside.
The raw hunger.
The infinite love.
He angled in to brush his lips against the corner of my mouth. “So stunning you make me shake.”
Then he moved to whisper against the shell of my ear. “So sexy and free and stunning my guts get twisted up every time I look at you.”
Edging back a fraction, he let his fingers drift down my neck so he could splay his hand out on the center of my chest. “This heart that radiates goodness.”
He gently urged me down to lie against the bed. Fingertips fluttered over the lids of my eyes. “These eyes that see the world in a way that shouldn’t be possible.”
He moved to trace my lips. “This mouth that speaks beauty.”
I writhed.
He ran his palm over my breast.
My nipples pebbled into hard, needy peaks.
Evan released a groan that sent a rush of goosebumps racing as he ran his hand down to the waist of my jeans. “All wrapped up in the most gorgeous package. This body, Frankie—you made me understand what it means for a woman to bring a man to his knees.”
He flicked the button. “You are the beauty of my life.”
The man leaned back on his knees, every masculine line of his body demonstrating how desperate he was for me.
He edged my jeans down, taking my underwear with them, the slow slide of the rough fabric dragging down my legs nearly driving me insane.
“You are the definition of my joy,” he continued, talking with those grating words that had always been my favorite song.
He tugged the clothing free of my ankles, and I was lying there a quivering, shaking mess.
“How did we get to here?” I rasped, my heart going boom, boom, boom as that boy stared down at me with those eyes that took me in like I was a dream.
“Because this is where we belong.”
Heat streaked over my flesh as he crawled over me, planting both hands on the mattress on either side of my head.
Hovering.
Anticipating.
And I could feel that hole carved out inside of me in the shape of him shiver with need. To be filled and restored and healed.
That energy went wild. Jerking at the chains that had kept us restrained.
Everything getting ready to rupture.
To burst.
To come together.
“I need you, Evan. I need you so bad I can’t breathe,” I whimpered.
It was true. Felt like my chest was gonna cave by the weight of wanting this man.
A smirk ticked up at the corner of his mouth as he wound his hand behind my back so he could flick the hook of my bra. He slowly peeled
the lace down my arms.
“You need me, huh?”
Tease.
God.
I forgot that he could be such a tease.
And I loved it and I wanted to play but the other part of me was just needing to feel all of this man.
It’d been too long.
Too long.
Still, I couldn’t stop the smile. “It was always me chasin’ you, Evan Bryant. It was kinda embarrassing. Don’t make me keep doing it.”
A slight chuckle tumbled from his throat before emotion twisted his brow, and he started fiddling with a strand of my hair. “I think I was running from what I thought I’d never deserve. Because believe me, Frankie, the only thing I ever wanted was you.”
I reached out to trace his strong jaw, this boy so much more than he’d ever believed. “You deserve everything in this world, Evan. Maybe it was me who was praying she could be enough to be what you needed. To hold you and love you.”
“Frankie.” My name tumbled from his tongue like a promise.
“Maybe what we should accept is that neither of us should be ashamed of the love we have for each other. Maybe together, we are more than enough for each other.”
Emotion pressed, and that energy sizzled. The hum that vibrated in the air almost glowing with the intensity of it.
Reaching out, I signed against the scar on his chest where his beautiful heart hammered at his ribs. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE.
Evan dropped his forehead to mine. “You are my everything.”
I could almost see the walls that had separated us crumble at our feet.
Come crashing down in a blinding storm that ended with us.
Evan took my mouth in a possessive kiss, hands close to frantic as they began to explore.
Running over my breasts and my sides and gripping at my hips.
A groan of objection was starting to form when he took his mouth from mine, but then he was making a path down the sensitive skin of my throat and that groan was turning into one of need.
Tiny spikes of pleasure lighting up everywhere his lips traveled.
Down, down, down, the boy licked a path over the raging thunder of my heart, over the swell of my breast, and I was crying out when he took the tight bud into the well of his mouth.
Hold on to Hope Page 23
