Hold on to Hope

Affection filled his expression when he looked at her, and Frankie was trying to subdue a guilty laugh, the tiniest bit of lightness breaking into the heaviness. “We were just friends.”

“Liars. Both of you.” Dad pointed between us, grinning soft.

Busted.

Like they didn’t always know.

Felt the movement from above, and I glanced up to find Mom coming down the darkened staircase, wearing a nightgown and her hair twisted up on her head. “Oh, you are here. I thought I heard something.” Worry crested her features. “Are you all okay? I hate that this is happening. I just . . . want some peace for y’all. For this baby.”

She hit the landing and moved directly for Frankie, her arms outstretched. “May I?”

“Of course.” Frankie handed him off to her, though she clearly didn’t want to let him go.

Thought maybe she would stand right in that spot and hold him forever.

Mom pressed a bunch of kisses to Everett’s temple, bouncing him a little when he stirred from sleep. “Did you get anything to eat?” she asked us.

“No, not yet,” I told her.

“There are some leftovers in the fridge. Why don’t you two go heat yourself up a plate, and I’ll take this little guy upstairs. He can hang out with me for a while . . . or spend the night in Grammy’s room, if that works best.”

She angled her head between Frankie and me like she was offering us some privacy. A reprieve.

I couldn’t be more grateful, and still, there was a huge part of me that didn’t want to let him out of my sight.

“That’d be nice, thank you. I’ll probably pop in and get him before we go to sleep.”

“Well, leave him as long as you like. Believe me . . . getting Grammy time is no problem at all.”

I sent her a soft smile, and Dad wrapped his arm around her waist.

Two of them were the picture of devotion.

Dad started to lead them up the staircase, but he hesitated. “I’m glad you two are finally figuring this out. Last few years have been rough on all of us . . . think the thing we need to remember is to be honest with each other. Open. Talk about our pasts and our futures.”

I nodded, and he did, too, before they turned to climb the stairs.

I moved for Frankie. “Are you hungry?”

She ran her hands up her arms. “I should probably eat.”

I set my hand on the small of her back. Figured we both needed the connection. Never close enough.

We headed in the direction of the kitchen, but Frankie surprised me by taking my hand and ducking us into the den off to the left.

Pulling me into the darkened room, she clicked the door shut behind us.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I asked, hands getting slowed in the tension as Frankie rounded around me.

Shadows danced and played and leapt through the oversized room. The drapes that hung over the massive windows that overlooked the backyard were parted a foot, the sheer fabric exposed letting the moon flood the room in a milky glow.

A huge bookcase took up one large wall, floor to ceiling, and two big sofas faced each other in the middle, a pool table toward the back.

That energy banged against the walls.

Two of us bottled in the force of it.

Our connection bounding and shivering.

I JUST NEEDED TO BE ALONE WITH YOU.

Could see the bob of her throat as she swallowed, the moisture clouding her eyes. “Your dad is right—we need to be honest—and I have to be honest right now and tell you how scared I am of losing him. When I saw you runnin’ after her? I knew it. I knew it was her and I was already feeling a crater getting carved out of the middle of me at the thought of having to let him go. I still can’t understand how she could possibly leave him in the first place.”

She’d turned her head a bit in profile, so I had to decipher part of what she was saying, but I got it. Understood it on a level that terrified me, too.

When she turned back to me, helplessness had taken hold of her features.

I started to edge her way. Slowly. The energy shifted as I moved for her. “Unicorn girl.” My fingers reached out to trace the angle of her face. “What did you tell me? One day together is worth a thousand years of pain?”

Her eyes dropped closed. Lingered there. Her mouth forming a quiet, “Yes.”

“Then we fight for every day that we can. We fight for Everett. We fight for us.”

E-V-A-N.

She signed it up close to my body, her fingers flitting out to touch my chest. I grabbed her by them, dragging her arm up and curling it around my neck. I started to edge her deeper into the room.