Frankie.
Looking too good. Smiling like she wasn’t about to shatter every piece of me. Therehewas beside her, perfect posture, stupid accent, hand on the small of her back like he’d earned it.
My grip tightened around the can.
Fuck.
Coop
I heard her before I saw her.
A laugh—light, easy, familiar—and the low hum of Frenchy’s voice cutting through the music. It froze me. Like my brain registered her before my body could catch up.
I turned.
Everything else dropped out.
Frankie stepped into the backyard and it was like being on a dolly zoom in a movie, everything in me lasered toward her.
Sunlight wrapped her in this soft glow that made her skin look even warmer, like she was built from summer. Her bikini was red—deep, bold, impossible to ignore. The top cut just high enough to drive me out of my damn mind, with this barely there strap that wrapped around her neck and made it obvious just how much skin she wasn’t covering. The bottoms were mostly hidden by the sarong knotted low on her hips, but that didn’t stop my brain from short-circuiting.
Her legs went on forever. That fabric slit high up one thigh, and when she shifted her weight, I caught the curve of her hip, bare skin that used to be mine to make her laugh when I poked it. Her belly, toned and smooth, caught the light when she moved.
And her hair—God,her hair—was braided down over one shoulder, thick and gleaming like gold thread, loose pieces escaping to kiss her cheeks and collarbone.
She was stunning.
Unfairly, unreasonably,end-of-the-worldstunning.
I forgot how to speak. How to breathe. How toexist.
Frenchy had his hand on her back like it was natural. Like it belonged there.
Jake was stock-still near the drinks, his jaw set like stone. Bubba muttered something I didn’t catch. Archie looked like someone had just served him the best and worst surprise of the night as he drifted toward us.
Me?
I just stared. Couldn’t not. I was drowning in every inch of skin she dared to show.
Ilikedher covered. Loved her in jeans and her oversized hoodies. But this? This wasintentional. This was Frankie stepping into the spotlight and letting the world see exactly what we’d all known for years.
She was beautiful, and sheknewit.
“Coop,” Rachel said from beside me, low.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
“No shit.”
She smirked, but there was no humor in it. Or if there was, I didn’t notice.
I watched Frankie thank someone for a drink, her fingers brushing Frenchy’s arm as she took it. She glanced around—eyes searching, scanning—and I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until her gaze landed on us.
Onme.
One second. Two.
