Hold on to Hope

But how could I stand there in front of this girl and expect her to give her entire life to me when I might not have one to give her in return?

It seemed so fucking selfish.

So fucking wrong.

Yet there I was, wanting to walk up to her, drive my hands into her hair, and claim her.

Because I saw it.

She was mine.

Same way as she’d always been. Same way as I was always going to be hers.

Guilt blustered through the wind, and I tried to get it together. To say something that would mean something when the only thing I was saying again was, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I could feel the way the laughter that tumbled from her was brittle. “You left me, Evan. You walked out of that hospital and out of my life without looking back. Only a note that explained absolutely nothing. You had told me you were gonna marry me.”

She was clutching her chest again, but her upper body was angling toward me, like she couldn’t help herself. “And you’re really goin’ to stand there and tell me that you didn’t want to hurt me? You chose to leave me, Evan. You picked the pain. You chose the hurt. And now all you can say is that you’re sorry?”

Regret churned and coiled. Problem was it was getting all mixed up with the lust that curled my guts.

The only thing it took was the sight of Frankie Leigh to bring it surging back.

Fingers itchy.

Dick hard.

Had no right to it, but my eyes were drinking her in, mouth watering as I dragged my gaze over her.

Would never forget the way it felt to be lost in this girl. In her body and those hands and the caress of her fingers.

She stood there seething and soothing under a spray of the blazing sun.

The sight of her a balm.

A punch to my soul.

Tall.

Always a little bony and skinny.

All sharp angles and subtle curves.

She stood there wearing a pink frilly skirt that landed under her knees over a pair of black leggings.

Of course, she’d paired it with a pair of pink high-top Chucks.

Frizzy, brown curls blew all around her.

Wild child.

My unicorn girl.

“I would have died for you, Frankie, and that’s what it felt like when I let you go.”

Disbelief curled through her expression, and her head was shaking, those tears streaking down her cheeks and across her mouth, wetting her lips. She huffed out a sound that I knew was derision. Felt it like a lash on my heart. “You think you did me a favor? That you were actin’ noble?”

My hands curled into fists.

She took a step toward me. “Is that what you think, Evan Bryant? You took the coward’s way out, that’s what you did. That wasn’t noble. I needed you.”

A sob followed the words out, and shit, there was nothing that I could do but erase the space, pull this girl into my arms and bury my face in her hair and listen to the thrum of her heart. It’d always felt like the beat of it had led mine.

Frankie lost it the second we touched. The girl weeping in my arms, her fingers clinging to me.

Shame spiraled.

But in the middle of it was something new. Something that should have been there all along.

Determination.

Because she was fucking right.

I’d been a coward. A goddamn coward. That ended now.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, and fuck, the taste of her skin nearly sent me spiraling.

Wanted to sink into her.

Dig deeper.

Crawl inside.

“I am sorry, Frankie. I am. Need you to know I thought I was doing what was best. That in the long run you’d be better off.”

She pulled back to look up at me. Couldn’t do anything but set my hand on her precious cheek.

Tears kept streaming free. “You had no right to make that decision for me. None at all, Evan. Did you even consider the consequences of what you leaving would be?”

Dread tightened my chest.

Something about the way the words dropped from her lips felt final.

Like she was saying I was too damn late.

Frantically, she scraped the moisture from her face with the heel of her hand. Almost as frantic as I could sense the frenzy of the laughter that tumbled out of her.

Disturbed.

Disbelieving.

She twisted herself out of my hold and took a step back.

That tiny space screamed.

“You know the sad thing, Evan?” She seemed almost frustrated with herself. “All this time? All this time I’ve been worried about you? All the nights I laid awake terrified that you were alone or sick or maybe hurt? Or the nights I was sick thinkin’ about you with someone else? The times I was angry with you or hurting for you and just all around praying to God that I could just forget about you? You want to know the most pathetic thing? Last night when I crossed the street, when I was in your arms for that fleeting second, it was the first time in all those years that I felt almost complete.”