He flinched. Just barely. But it was enough.
“I get it,” I said, softer now. “You were hurt. You were jealous. You didn’t know what to do with the feelings we’ve all had to deny because she didn’t seem to notice.” Holy shit did I get that. “So you exploded.”
“I didn’t mean to humiliate her.”
“But you did.” No matter how much I got it, I still wanted to slug him.
He didn’t say anything. Just pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes like he could scrub the memory away. Like he could pretend the look on Frankie’s face hadn’t leveled all of us.
I wanted to be madder.
God, Ishouldhave been madder.
But being pissed changednothing. What we needed to do right now wasrepairingthat damage and rebuilding that connection. But as Sunday turned into evening, Jake dropped me back off at home. Archie and Bubba stopped answering group texts. Frankie wasn’t home—her car wasn’t there. Her car and her mom’s cars were both missing.
Frankie was justgone.
No replies. No location tag. Just radio silence and the echo of that party still hanging in the corners of my head. She had every right to disappear for a day. I knew that. Hell, I respected it. But it still made my chest ache in a way that felt like punishment.
Because I hadn’t said anything, not when it counted. Not when Jake opened his mouth and let the lie-that-was-also-true fall out. I hadn’t stepped between them. I hadn’t made it stop.
That was almost worse than the fight itself.
By Monday morning, I was raw.
Not tired. Not angry.
Justdone.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending like this was just another school day, I leaned against the side of her car as I waited for her to come out. The profound gratitude that ripped through me when I saw the car there had damn near taken me out at the knees.
I hadn’t heard a word from Frankie since the party. Not a text. Not a meme. Not even the usual angry reaction when I sent her that picture of a raccoon wearing Crocs. Radio silence. Which would’ve been fine—normal even, for someone trying to reclaim her peace—but I knew her better than that. Silence wasn’t Frankie’s style. Not with me.
That’s how I knew she was still hurting and maybe—just maybe—frommetoo.
When I heard the familiar jingle of her keys, I forced myself to not straighten up abruptly. Taking a deep breath, I waited for her to spot me. Her expression transformed, briefly, to one of surprise. Then her face evened out.
Calm. Collected. Guarded.
“Morning,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Hey,” she said. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t flip me off either. Small win.
“You mind giving me a ride?”
Frankie arched one brow. “We doing this?”
“I mean, it’s Monday,” I said with a half-shrug. “I still don’t have a car. So… if you wouldn’t mind.”Please don’t mind.
She stared at me for a second, like she was weighing her options. Maybe deciding how much she wanted to punch me versus how much she didn’t. Frankie had a pretty wicked right hook, but she had her backpack in that hand, so maybe I’d only get the left.
Finally, she exhaled and all the tension bled out of me. “Fine, but you owe me pizza or something.”
“Done.”Whatever you want. “Whenever. You name it. We’ll make it happen.”
I opened the driver’s side door on reflex after she unlocked the car. When I held out my hand for her backpack, she gave me a brief look before she handed it over. “Thanks.”
“Frankie?”
