“Been there. Done that,” Frank gritted out, shutting off the engine. The soft shimmer of the Christmas lights skated across his cheeks.
Anger ripped into me. “Are you serious?” I dipped down, and my hands quickly roamed his chest and stomach. I didn’t know what I was searching for. Maybe traces of blood, maybe scars that hadn’t been there before he left, maybe my sanity. “We were worried sick.” My voice broke as I continued to fumble with his clothes absentmindedly.
“I needed to get out of this house,” he said, sounding defeated, then suddenly grabbed my wrist. It wasn’t a tender lover’s touch. It was a stop-it touch. My desire to know he wasn’t harmed annoyed him. I felt it in the vigor of his grip. His eyes closed for a moment, and the expression on his face was a strange mix of confused and mortified. Part of me wanted to yell at him and part of me wanted to wrap my arms around his body and cry like a baby. I did neither.
Instead, I freed my hand from his grasp and stood. I waited for him to move or say something. My pulse raced like the losing horse on a track.
“Come on. Let’s go inside,” I whispered.
No reaction. I got silence in place of a reply.
“Frank?”
His chest rose slowly as he drew in a long, calculated breath through his teeth. “I just lost twenty years of my life’s work, Cassy. I’m not a very pleasant person to be around right now.”
“I understand that and I’m sorry, but you don’t have to do this alone.”
Jaw tight, he turned his head to face me, and his eyes gazed up at me. They were dark and impossible to read. “I do. It’s better that way.”
My head spun in millions of different directions. My heart split right down the middle. At that moment, I understood why he’d experienced a delay during the crash. Shock. He’d never expected it, like I’d never expected him to say the words he’d just blurted out. After everything we’d been through. After everything I’d given up for him.
Hurt swirled in my stomach. I didn’t need to be told twice. I was a smart cookie, as my mother would say. I got the hint. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”
Tears filled my eyes and the staccato beat of my heart made it difficult to talk.
Walk away, Cassy, my pride urged while my brain was trying to come up with a plan of retreat.
There was none. There was only a colossal amount of anger and the need to get out of here. Swallowing down my emotions, I rushed inside and started packing my laptop and my gear. My hands shook, but I kept on shoving everything in my bag without looking. I was mad and disappointed. With myself. With Frank. With life.
Watching a man who had the entire world at his feet and millions of dollars at his disposal sulk over the things he had no control over while he missed out on all the things he could actually control had become tiring.
Unshed tears blurred my vision as I hauled my bag down the stairs and to my Honda. Frank was still inside the Ferrari, withdrawn.
“You want to be alone?” I halted with my chin jerked up. “Fine. Be alone.”
Silence.
“You’ve been shutting me out ever since you came back from the hospital,” I continued, my voice a pathetic wobble. “I’m not an accessory. I’m here for you whenever you need me, whenever you feel down, whenever you’re upset. Please understand, if you’re going through shit, I’m going through it with you. I hurt when you hurt. I bleed when you bleed. I suffocate when you suffocate. I feel every single thing you do, yet you don’t want to let me in. I’m willing to listen to all your secrets, all your desires, and all your pain and take everything with me to the grave, but you won’t talk to me. You keep me at arm’s length from your heart while I’ve willingly given you mine, and it’s driving me nuts, Frank.”
I heard the ragged pull of his breath, but his face remained an impenetrable mask of indifference.
“Look at me, Frank.” My eyes sat on the elegant profile of his face.
He didn’t react.
“Okay. Call me when you’re done being a spoiled, self-centered, testy asshole,” I spat, popping my trunk open.
His silence said it all. Frank Wallace had no idea how to be in a relationship.
Neither did I.
He was my first and probably my last attempt at steady. Fuck men and fuck commitment.
I drove off without saying goodbye to Janet.
A week had passed since my ridiculous fight with Frank. Apparently, my rock star was defective, and as much as I wanted my heart back, I didn’t qualify for a refund.
In his defense, he’d been calling and texting like crazy, threatening me with a daytime visit to ensure enough people saw him in my apartment complex. It was the worst kind of blackmail. He’d even sent Brooklyn with a huge teddy bear with a card that said, “I’m sorry.” Ashton had been roped into helping her bring that thing up the stairs and now the stuffed animal was taking up half the living room. But I didn’t have the heart to throw Teddy away. First, it was too big for a dumpster. Second, it was too cute to give up.
Frank Wallace had gotten under my skin. He’d owned my mind the entire week we’d been apart. Each time I came out of my room, the oversized animal’s grin put a new dent in my pride.
It was the morning of Ashton’s eighteenth birthday when Roman showed up at my front door wearing a jersey and a baseball cap. Still in my pajamas and without a lick of caffeine in my system, I gawked at him through the cracked door and wondered why he was here this early and, further, why he was here at all.
“I don’t have any more room for flowers and stuffed teddy bears,” I blurted out.
“Don’t have any on me, Ms. Evans.” Roman shook his head and peeked inside. “Didn’t you get the message?”
“What message?” I’d pulled an all-nighter working on the email campaign for the potential Dreamcatchers sponsors and had gone to sleep close to sunrise. The last thing I’d cared about when the doorbell woke me was checking my phone.
“Boss would like to take Ashton car shopping.”
“Come again?” I blinked through the fuzz in my brain and threw an over-the-shoulder glance at my brother, who was scrambling to his feet from the couch.
“Mr. Blade’s present for his eighteenth birthday,” Roman explained.
“No! He’s not getting a car from Mr. Blade!” I snapped, ready to shut the door, but it was too late. My brother, who sported only junk food-themed boxers, pushed his way out onto the deck.
He stared at Roman with wide eyes as he stood there in underwear that was covered with soda and burgers. “Are you for real?”
This wasn’t happening!
My mother and I had found a nice 2005 Toyota Corolla in Glendale two days ago and the owner had agreed to hold the car until tomorrow. We planned to tell Ashton about the present tonight during dinner. Frank and his bottomless pit of a wallet were about to ruin our surprise.
Roman’s gaze darted between me and my brother. “Mr. Blade is waiting in the car.”
My heart sputtered.
“Sick.” Ashton grinned. “Give me five minutes, man.”
“I’ll be downstairs.” Roman nodded and glanced at me.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told Ashton as he breezed past me.