by Haley Jenner
"I'm leaving, Luca. This... I'm not living this again. I... I just can't," I admit on defeat, letting go of the bag and diverting my eyes to the ground.
"You lied to me. So many times, about so many things. I feel like you have all these secrets, this whole life that I know nothing about. You're my best friend," I confess. "And I don't know you, not really. Which is stupid because..." I trail off, not caring to vocalize the words balancing on the edge of my tongue.
"Because what?" He steps closer, his finger lifting my chin, but I pull away, eyes closing in irritation.
"Because what, Frankie?" he pushes.
Lips tipped out in cowardice, I shake my head, refusing to speak.
"Tell me." He invades my space. "What's stupid?"
My head lifts, eyes connecting with his. I pause, feeling his presence, letting his overwhelming shadow engulf me.
"Because I love you." The words are spoken softly, our eyes anchored as I speak the four words that could damage our friendship irrevocably.
"I love you," I repeat to the fire in his eyes. "Which is stupid because I know almost nothing about you."
My brooding Viking doesn't speak, I don't think he can. I can't say he's shocked by my declaration. He's not angry, or disappointed either. Yet, I can't say he's pleased, and he's certainly not rushing to declare his own dying love.
"I'm sorry." I drop my gaze. "We made a promise, an agreement that this would never be anything more than what it was."
His large hands cup my cheek, his calloused thumb running along my jawline in affection. "I'm sorry." He breaks my heart. Regret pours from his touch, guilt shadowing his eyes.
God, I thought Brandon's betrayal was agonizing. I thought I'd never survive, that I was destined to live with the shards of my heart stabbing me day in and day out.
How naïve was I to believe what he and I had shared was love? Lust sure, maybe a little infatuation.
But Luca, he changed my perspective. He took my broken soul and pieced it together in a way only he could. He mended the cracks in my heart with the love he let me feel. He gave more moments, more memories that let me believe I could be happy again. He took me, cracks and all, and loved me back to myself.
His hand drops away and I feel that like a stab wound to my recently healed heart. Then he steps back, and I want to fall to my knees; apologize, cry, beg for him to love me back.
"First time Jen cheated on me, I was seventeen." He swallows the acid the words bring him.
"You don't have—"
"I do." He nods, eyes closing to shield the heavy emotions swirling within them.
"My dad was dying, I was messed up. I hated the guy," he confesses sadly. "I fought so hard for him to love me the way I did him. But all he ever did was reject me, let me down."
Dropping his ass to the bed, he sighs, looking up at me with a vulnerability that ushers me forward. Gone is the imposing man, the self-assured magnificence, in its place is a fragile boy searching for his place in this world.
"I found out she fucked someone else and my heart was broken, she was always the one thing in my life that made sense. She blamed me, said she felt abandoned, alone. I got that." He laughs flippantly. "Fuck, I lived that my whole life... so I forgave her." He shrugs. "I drove her to find affection elsewhere, it was my fault."
I want to disagree. Yell, scream, make him listen to how wrong he is, but the comment was made facetiously. He knows the lie he speaks.
"The second time she cheated we were engaged," he spits. "I was working away, trying to make it without the trust fund my mom dangled in front of my eyes. I didn't wanna dance for it, Frankie, a parent's love shouldn't be conditional. I rejected the conditions, and Jen fucking hated it."
"Shock horror," I quip, and he smiles at me slyly.
"Anyway, I found out she fucked someone else, and I ended it. She begged, pleaded, apologized. Used the same fucking excuse... I was never home, she felt unloved, unwanted."
Quiet sits between us, and I know he hates himself for having to admit it.
"You forgave her."
Lips pursed, he looks at me with shame in his eyes. I hate he sees the goodness in his soul as something shameful. "Yeah, I forgave her. I was failing her the way my parents had me. We got married, and about a month later I walked in on her and my best friend. I guess third time's a charm. That I knew of anyway. I left, without ever looking back."
I'm fucking dumbfounded. What person in their right mind can claim the unconditional love of Luca St. Kelly only to throw it away.
"Why are you still married?"
He looks at me, eyes scanning over my face. "She won't sign the divorce papers. She wants cash. I refuse to give it to her. That's all she ever wanted. My heart blinded me so fucking bad I just couldn't see it."
Grabbing his hand, I hold it in my lap, offering him comfort in the only way I know how. We sit in silence, letting the missteps of our lives circle us; twisting around us with a force I'm not sure we'll ever escape.
"I can't do it again, Crazy Girl. I can't let someone else be responsible for my happiness. Fuck... the pain." His voice cracks and tears spring to my eyes. "I ain't ever looking to live through that again. The risk is too high. I don't like how weak I become when another person is involved. That, and I'm not confident that I can love someone the way they deserve. What if I fail again, and I push them to break my heart."
His words I understand. I feel them deep within my heart and soul, I just wish I knew all these months ago, before my heart decided to invest in a man that could cripple me emotionally.
"Her cheating isn't your fault, Luc. If you let yourself love someone, it'd be in a way they deserve and more. You're special, babe. The way you love your people, it's special."
He smiles at me appreciatively. "Hate that I hurt you, baby."
"Not on you, I should've known dipping my toes in your water would take me here." I bump his shoulder and he wraps a thick arm around me, kissing the top of my head.
"I still gotta leave, Luc. Being here—"
“You should stay,” he argues. “Archer’s nearly finished with my loft, this’ll be yours.”
I shake my head before he’s finished speaking. “Being here… it’s too much. Ghosts I don’t need haunting me.”
"Yeah," he concedes sadly. "For what it's worth," he adds. "You're my best friend, Francesca. Probably the best I've ever had. Hoping this doesn't take you away from me."
Lifting my head, he places a soft kiss on my lips. I should assure him otherwise, convince him that we'll always be friends, no matter how difficult that may be, but my words are caught in the emotion lodged in my throat, robbing my ability to lie.
Chapter Seventeen
Luca
“Luca. Babe. Stop.” Placing a hand on my forearm, she stares into my face. It’s no doubt lined with worry, panic keeping my eyelids up, refusing me the ability to blink.
My whole body, every last muscled inch of it is strung tight, antsy with agitation. My chest heaves with the heaviness in my breaths.
“I just… fuck… I don’t know. I’m just not prepared for you leaving, which is stupid. I…” I sigh loudly, running my hands through my hair in frustration. “I know I’m not offering you anything, Frankie. I just... just stay. Please. For tonight. Let me say goodbye. We’ll share a pizza, chill. Let me sleep next to you just once.”
I grab her hand, entwining our fingers to pull her closer into my body. Instinctively, her bag drops, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud.
Her hand meets my chest, and I know she can feel the steady beat of my heart against her palm.
I know I’m asking a lot. Maybe too much. I’m asking her to lose more of herself by giving me this time. I should stop, she’s already lost so much. More than she thought she had left to give. But looking into the force of my stare, she nods yes. Agreeing to my request with relief.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I’m an asshole, but I’m grateful she wasn’t strong enough to sa
y no. What kind of man does that make me? Praying on her weakness for my own benefit. Because now I get her for a few hours longer. Uninterrupted. I get to see, hear, smell, touch, taste, for a little bit longer. I should be fearful of what these few hours could hold, of the collateral damage they can cause, I guess I am, slightly. Just not enough to say no.
Straddling my lap, her fingers move along my scalp to free my hair.
Brushing my hands along her sides, they track up her spine and back down to her thighs. I watch them move, watch them trail along her toffee skin in soft drags. “I’m so sorry, Crazy Girl.”
My voice is soft, a barely audible mumble spoken into the room that tightens my grip on her outer thighs, pulling her harder into my body.
Frowning, her hands pause in my hair, eyes scanning my face in question. “For what?”
I walk my fingers up her stomach, between the generous swell of her tits, along her throat toward her bottom lip. Pausing as I reach the soft cushion, I brush it lightly with the pad of my thumb. She kisses me, my smile coming on ruefully.
“For not trusting myself to give you more,” I answer. “Without realizing it, your happiness has become really important to me. I just wish I had enough faith in myself, in love, to risk it all again.”
My hands move again, fingertips skimming the underside of her breasts lightly. “I’ve lost my belief in love, Frankie. Almost every relationship I’ve had in my life has taught me it only ends in pain, in suffering. Truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever trust someone again in that way, not completely.”
She grasps her hands in mine, twisting our fingers together as she leans forward to kiss my sad smile. “I get it. Really, Luca, I do. You don’t owe me an apology. We both knew what this was.”
It’s ridiculous, especially after rejecting her so significantly, but I’m disappointed in her declaration. Saddened by her acceptance of my rejection. It would’ve been nice for her to fight to convince me that I could trust her, that she’d take care of my heart. That she believed I could do that same for her. But, I get it, she’s more like me than I ever realized. Because, for the first time in her life, she’s done fighting. She wants someone to fight for her. Just once. Fight for her love, for her heart. Trust her with their happiness and convince them that they’re the keeper of hers.
I’m just not sure I can be that person for her. Not now. Not ever.
Ruffling the crown of my hair, she runs her fingers through the strands to let it fall around my face. I smile, dropping my head to let it fall easier. It’s past midnight, the room cast in darkness, illuminated only by the dull light of the bedside lamp. Our night was spent like others easily passed in one another’s company. I wasn’t lying when I told her she was my best friend. More than anyone, I crave her company the most. She’s fun, insightful, kind, and above all that genuine, true. Jake aside, Francesca Walker might just be one of the first real friends I’ve ever had.
We ate, watched TV, listened to music in companionable silence, chatted freely about life. I ached to touch her throughout, wanting to say goodbye properly; by loving her body. I held back though, because as much as I longed to touch her, I wanted to just be with her more. Her company, her presence is more addictive than her body. That, and I knew what touching her would mean. The end.
So I waited until late evening before giving in to what we both wanted. Picking her up silently, I walk us to the bed, placing her on her feet to undress her, then myself. No words are spoken as I strip away our clothes, layer by layer. Nor when my hands grasped the back of her thighs to lift her again.
Dropping my ass to the bed, I inch us backward leaning against the headboard, wrapped up in one another as I consider how empty this place will feel without her.
“Tell me three things you’ll take away from this. From us,” I instruct and she laughs softly.
I watch on as she thinks heavily on my words, closing her eyes as my lips meet her sternum, moving upward with kisses. Arching her neck, she gifts me access to her throat, enjoying the feel of my lips on her skin.
“I now know that I’m not as afraid of feeling something for someone as I thought I was. As long as that person is special and worthy of my love.”
I nod into her neck, my tongue peeking out to taste. Her words calm the restlessness within me, because I’m glad she’s moved to a point where happiness with another man is a possibility for her.
“I’ll take away a friendship I never thought in a million years I’d have.”
Pulling back, I smile wide at her words, teeth on show, eyes crinkling in happiness.
“Thirdly, and maybe most important, I’ve learned that Thor most definitely knows how to use his hammer.”
My laugh is a rich rumble that travels all the way from my stomach, and she watches my joy candidly. I feel an overwhelming and unfiltered sense of happiness in that single moment, a tick in time when I’m no longer consumed with the demons of my past.
‘What about you?” she questions softly as my thick laughter tapers off.
I pause, considering her question. She waits in silence, quiet descending as my eyes scan her face. “I feel less sour about my past,” I test. “You’ve taken away a lot of my animosity, Frankie. My life feels richer because of you, so, I’ll take away a newfound happiness in my life. You.”
“Luca,” she implores, the meaning of my words hitting as significantly as I needed them to.
Leaning forward, she kisses me, slowly, letting her tongue dance with mine.
“Continue,” she smiles, pulling away from our kiss.
“I now know that there are women in the world who have a lot more going on than their physical beauty. I’ve been schooled on the beauty of someone’s heart and how sexy that is. I lived bitterly for so long, convincing myself all women were self-absorbed and cared only about their own feelings. I was wrong. Really fucking wrong.”
My statement causes her pain. Unintentionally of course. But I could see how she’d misinterpret my words to mean I’m open to a relationship, just not with her. She’s wrong, but I don’t clarify, needing her to understand that I’ve cemented my desire to never go back into battle with my heart.
“And finally.” I pull back, maneuvering my body with hers still attached, to come up on my knees. “I now know, with complete certainty, that unicorns do exist.”
Her laughter rings out into the room, forcing a wide smile to break along my face. The laugh of hers I love, the thick husky sound morphing into a joyous squeal as I tip her, her back hitting the bed as I move over her heavily.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, eyes drifting over her face. “And they’re really fucking beautiful.”
For the briefest of seconds, I can let myself believe in the fairy tale of Frankie and I. A world where we’d trek our way through the broken caverns of our hearts and hold onto something real, something deeper. Something forever.
I’ve never been much of a believer of making love. Of staring into someone’s eyes and connecting in far more intimate ways than your body ever could.
But that’s what I do. I make love to Frankie. I let the unresolved feelings we have for one another power the way my body moves. Legs entwined, hands and fingers much the same, our bodies press together from lips to toes. I look into her eyes, and she bares her soul for me to see. I drink it up. I take everything I can, knowing I’ll likely destroy her in the process. But I’m not able to stop, or maybe unwilling is the more appropriate term. Whichever it is, I take it unapologetically and then push her to give me more.
She comes, a single tear escaping from her eye as she holds in the words she’s dying to say. But like everything else I’ve stolen from her tonight, I take that too, my tongue dragging lightly along her temple to let myself remember the taste of her heartbreak. If only to prolong my own suffering.
We lay awake for hours, her body pressed intimately against mine, heart to heart, their beats communicating between themselves.
She’s gone when I wake,
the apartment now a stranger. No longer a home now the heart of it has left. I wish I could have convinced her to stay. She felt my desperation, my need to keep her. But she also knew, deep in her heart, that my broken soul could never love her the way she deserved.
I fail at love. Spectacularly. From the moment my mother and father welcomed me into this judgmental and expectant world, I failed them. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I just know I did. Enough that the love parents are conditioned to feel, left them. Poof. Gone, like a puff of smoke, and I became their burden.
Then I met Jen, and everything I thought I’d been missing in life was right fucking there. I’d found it, what I’d been searching for, what I’d been deprived of. But them somehow along the way, I failed her too. The love we shared not only dwindled away, it manifested into something awful, something so far from the realms of love, I can no longer even recall the happiness she brought to my life. In its place sits only sour memories and lifelong regrets.
I fail at love, because in the end, my expectations are too high. I want someone to be my… oxygen, but more often than not, I’m holding my fucking breath, depriving their ability to actually give it to me.
Chapter Eighteen
Frankie
Four weeks. Four godawful weeks of living back with my parents, of missing Luca, of avoiding Luca, of pretending that I’m more than okay when I’m in Luca’s presence. Basically, four weeks of hell.
But I’m okay, and the more I tell myself that, the more I believe it.
Kind of. Maybe. Not really.
Hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket, I pull the sides farther around my body, shielding my front from the cold air. The days have been warmer, for Carnation anyway. Not warm in the way I've experienced in Manhattan or LA, but still, warm for our cold pocket. The late afternoon and twilight of night always shifts into a frigid shadow. It’s fucking depressing and in no way good for my current state of mind.
