Hold on to Hope

Gathering myself, I turned and stared at him.

Sure, he was a little burly and rough, but I’d never expected him to do something so explosive.

Did I not know him at all?

I wavered, taking him in like I might be able to see the guilt written on him. “Did you do it?”

He frowned. “You saw me do it, Frankie. Lost my temper. Know it was wrong. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

I didn’t see any flicker of recognition. No flash of guilt before it was tucked away.

I lifted my chin. “I’m not talkin’ about my window. I’m asking if you went over to Evan’s parents’ house yesterday.”

Genuine confusion filled his expression. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. If I go over there? You’ll know it because that punk will be getting his ass handed to him.”

Worry and disappointment shook my head.

Defiance lifted my chin, and I stared him down, showing no fear or submission. “Stay the hell away from him, Jack. I’m warning you.”

He laughed.

He took a step forward.

I took one back.

“You’re the one who always said never stop fighting for what’s most important to you. Never stop believing in what you want. Didn’t you, Frankie Leigh?” Thing was, when he said it, it was bitter.

Acid burning from his tongue. Apparently, he’d missed the memo on the meanin’.

Agitation flinted in the rays of the rising sun.

Palpable.

Visible.

“Just . . . stay away. From both of us,” I warned him again.

He chuckled low. “You act like I’m the intruder here, Frankie. Think it’s that prick who needs to watch his back. Maybe go back where he came from.”

Milo gave this weird, uneasy growl, like he felt the animosity clogging the air. I stood my ground, petting his head while I tried to wrap mine around the idea that Jack could have been responsible for this.

Act like I was his possession.

Like I’d made him promises when I hadn’t.

Without saying anything else, he strode over to his car and hopped inside, peeling out without looking back.

Twenty

Frankie Leigh

Thirteen Years Old

YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO GO THIS FAR.

Frankie grinned as she looked at Evan from over her shoulder, the way his hands bled with worry and protection, that look in his eye as he watched her, following her close up the slippery rocks toward the cliffs.

“Oh, come on, Evan. I want to jump!”

YOUR DAD IS GOING TO KICK MY ASS.

ARE YOU SCARED? she taunted.

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Only thing I’m scared of is you getting hurt.” His rough, scraping voice touched her ears, and her stomach did another flip.

She turned and started to climb, trying to ignore the feeling.

“Every time we come out here, I end up having to carry you back to camp to get patched up,” he complained.

“That’s because I want you to carry me.” She said it aloud, but straight ahead so he couldn’t hear.

Needing to say it but not wanting him to know.

The roar of the waterfalls thundered through the air, the spray from the gushing waters hitting the lake below rising up to cover their heated skin as they played beneath the sun.

Evan couldn’t hear it.

But she knew he could feel it.

The vibration and the hum.

She wondered if he felt her heart doing the same. Going thrum, thrum, thrum as she looked back at him in his bathing suit as he climbed up behind her.

He was still skinny, but somehow, this summer he looked different. The red of his hair had lightened in the sun. His lips fuller. His shoulders wider.

Her eyes traced his scar, the whitened line that seemed to get smaller and less noticeable with every year that passed. She watched it like maybe she could keep it together, love him hard enough that it would never split open or fail, her eyes a glue that kept guard.

They made it to the top, where the cliffs opened up to the lake.

Breathtaking.

She looked back, and her lungs squeezed tighter.

Their family was below, swimming in the lake, splashing and roughhousing in the blue, tranquil waters.

Frankie ran across the streams, water splashing beneath her feet, and she raced over to her and Evan’s rock.

The one that looked like a cracked open heart. She climbed to the top of it and threw up her hands. “If we jumped from here, how high do you think we could fly?”

She almost sang it, a huge smile splitting her face.

He laughed a little, but he didn’t play along the way he used to when they were young. When he’d said he wished he could fly so incredibly high that they would soar to the stars.

“More like you’re going to fall and crack your head,” he grumbled.

She jumped anyway. But she lost her balance the second she hit the smooth, slick rock below.

Before she could tumble and fall, Evan rushed forward and grabbed her.

His hands on her skin.

He whirled her around, worry carved in his expression. “Damn it, Frankie. Would you be careful?” Emerald eyes traced her face, his mouth twisted in concern. “Don’t you know I can’t stand it when you get hurt? I swear, you ask for it.”