Hold on to Hope

A signal.

A sign.

Her spirit calling out.

I slipped off the side of the bed, taking Everett with me. He dropped the stuffed animal, both hands fisted in my shirt.

Need clutched my stomach.

Apprehension.

Anticipation.

Everything rolled with thunder. My heart and my breaths and my mind.

I slowly crossed the room. Felt like I was stepping into unfound territory, unsure of where this was going to lead.

Every flash of her light slammed me with a fierce bolt of longing.

Energy shivering.

Rumbles of a storm underfoot.

Frankie Leigh was a silhouette in the window, but I’d recognize her anywhere. Wild curls flying around her, cinnamon eyes sparks of life in the darkest night.

She’d always been my sun. She’d called me out of the shadows that spun through the quiet in my mind. The girl finding me in the seclusion. Drawing me out of the isolation.

Lump in my throat, I fumbled around to push open the window with my free hand. Her aura flooded in, crashing against my chest and spilling onto the floor.

Could feel the weight of her gasp. The breath that she released. Like my presence struck her the exact same way.

I reached my hand out to help her through.

Energy crackled at the connection, this seething desperation, and I could tell she was trying to hold her breath while she climbed through the window.

Everett clung to my side, hiding his face, but peering out with one of his scrunched-up smiles. Frankie’s gaze was on him, like she felt his pull. Like she couldn’t resist him any more than I could.

“What are you still doing awake, little man?” Could tell she was whispering, and she reached out to touch his cheek before she grabbed his hand when he pointed at her again.

Wondered why the fuck if felt like she was reaching out to caress me at the same time.

“It’s late,” she said.

“Guess maybe he was staying awake, expecting you.” My throat felt tight and heavy when I said it, tension bounding through the tense air.

Those eyes swung over to me, but she was still holding onto Everett’s hand. I wondered if she even knew she was doing it. If she felt this affinity with him, too.

Didn’t try to stop the smile from lighting on my mouth. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

She went to chewing on her lip again, action full of apology and worry and doubt. “I heard what happened this afternoon. That you had somethin’ painted on the porch. Your mama left the store totally beside herself.”

Frankie hesitated, those eyes dim. “It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about? How is it your fault?”

She gave a regretful shake of her head. “I . . . I think it was Jack. The other mornin’ . . . when we broke up?” She inhaled a heavy breath, and her shoulders hitched high. Clearly her worry extended to my son who she glanced at before she returned her gaze to me.

“When I told him about us, he threw a rock through my car window. Accused you of bein’ a freak. I . . . I never in a million years thought he would pull somethin’ like that. He was irate, Evan. Volatile. I mean, I knew he was gonna be upset, but I’d never expected him to come off like that. He told me he loved me and things weren’t over between us.”

“What?” I demanded, fully caught off guard.

Protectiveness struck like a match that burst into an inferno.

Consuming fury.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Fuck, Frankie . . . did that bastard hurt you?”

“No,” she rushed. “I didn’t want to upset you. Didn’t want to get you tangled up in the mess that I’d already made. I figured he would cool off and see reason. I’m so sorry.”

Guilt creased every line of that stunning face. I reached out and cupped it, that rage back in full force.

“This isn’t your fault, Frankie. No matter what.” My head shook as I tried to process through the information. “Honestly? I’m not sure that it was him. The note that was left? It felt . . . personal.”

She huffed out a laugh that held zero amusement. “Oh, it’s personal, Evan. He thinks you stole somethin’ that is his. He’s been weird about you from day one. The day you got here, he started wanting answers about who you are to me.”

I moved into her space. Had to admit, I loved the sharp intake of air that she sucked in when I pressed up close to her. “Did I take something that was his? Seems to me like he had something that was mine.”

Flustered, she stepped back, fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Damn, I wanted her.

Wanted to kiss her and love her and touch her. The way it was supposed to be.

She turned away and started roaming my room. Something wistful and soft filled the atmosphere. She reached out and traced the medals and trophies that still remained on my shelf, tenderly brushed her fingers over the framed pictures of us. I was holding Everett tight when she looked back. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in here. How’s it possible it feels so different and somehow exactly the same?”