Hold on to Hope

Those cinnamon eyes glistened and glimmered.

Grief and love.

Grief and love.

Warm honey sprinkled with the hottest flecks of red.

Mouth painted a dizzying, sparkling pink.

I needed to get my physical reaction to her under control.

But that was the thing about going without what you craved most for years.

It made you half mad, delirious with the need.

I swallowed hard, hands curling into fists to keep from driving greedy fingers into her hair. “That’s because we belong together.”

More of that laughter.

Barking and harsh.

Could feel the sharpness of it slice across my skin.

She dropped her gaze to the ground with a shake of her head before she looked up so I could read her lips. “You’re right. We did. But it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question.

But I was answering it like it was. “No. Fuck no, Frankie.”

“It is.”

I surged forward and gripped her by one hip, our bodies pressed together.

Her breaths turned shallow, the girl’s chest heaving, her tongue darting out to swipe across the moisture still wetting her lips.

Wanted to trace it with mine.

Kiss this girl the way that I used to.

My hand burrowed deeper into her flesh. “You’re wrong, Frankie Leigh. There is no amount of time that could ever erase who you are to me.”

Frankie gulped, her delicate throat tremoring, and she lifted that fierce chin that she’d always worn.

“I have a boyfriend, Evan. I’ve moved on.” She glanced over my shoulder before she returned her gaze to me. “And clearly, you have, too.”

The words were frail.

Feeble in their defense.

Still, I felt the impact of them like a kick to the gut.

Giving Frankie the chance to move on, for her to find the kind of life she deserved, had been the whole goddamn point. So she could have a family. So she didn’t have to wait around for the day that I died.

But facing the reality of it was like the blunt stab of a knife.

She took advantage of my shock and stumbled back, trying to pry herself away from the energy that rippled and shook and circled us like a black storm.

Terrifying and beautiful.

Our connection had always been that way.

Almost too much because living without each other was nothing but devastation.

Sniffling, she stepped back and dropped her attention to the ground, trying to gather herself before she turned her gaze back to me.

In the depths of it, I saw a thousand lies. A million truths.

I watched the mess of them move on her mouth. “I’m so glad you’re back, Evan. And I truly, honestly hope you’re happy. I hope that you’ve found love, and I hope even more that sweet boy has filled up the vacant places I know existed in your soul.” She brushed her fingertips over my chest. “I don’t know any of the details of your life, but I really hope someday we can remedy that and we can be friends again. But I hope you know, after everything, that’s the only thing we can be.”

Then Frankie turned and fumbled for her car like she couldn’t stay standing there for a second longer without crumbling.

Her argument valid but completely false.

She struggled to open her car door, and I stood there watching her trying to get away.

Maybe that was the second I realized neither of us could ever get that far.

“Frankie,” I called, knowing her name had to have cracked with the way it scraped my raw throat.

She froze, and I waited until she finally twisted around to look at me.

That gorgeous face staring back.

Fuck.

I had no idea what the hell I thought I was doing. But I couldn’t stop the statement from bleeding free. My hands moving powerfully with the importance of what I had to say.

I KNOW I HURT YOU, FRANKIE. I KNOW IT. AND I KNOW I KEEP SAYING I’M SORRY, BUT THE TRUTH IS, I AM. I’VE BEEN SORRY EVERY SINGLE DAY.

My head angled in emphasis.

YOU REALLY THINK THERE’S A CHANCE THAT I’VE MOVED ON? YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S POSSIBLE? THERE HASN’T BEEN A SINGLE DAY SINCE THE DAY I MET YOU THAT I DIDN’T LOVE YOU, FRANKIE LEIGH.

I kept moving closer as I signed.

SO YOU CAN GET IN YOUR CAR AND DRIVE AWAY. YOU CAN GO BACK TO WHOEVER IT IS WHO IS WAITING FOR YOU. BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY? HE’S NOT ME.

Frankie shivered from where she watched me at her car, standing in her open door. I swallowed down the pain. The regrets. Everything I’d done.

YOU BELONG WITH ME. JUST LIKE I BELONG WITH YOU.

An instant of the fear I’d been wearing for years attempted to rise to the surface with the confession.

I shoved it back down.

Because that cowardice no longer had a place.

It was no longer welcome.

Frankie stared back like she was terrified because she knew it was the truth. Without responding, she finally tore herself from the tether that tied and fumbled into the driver’s seat of her car.