“Why are men what? Charming? Beautiful? Beastly?”
“The last one. Definitely that.” When her eyes met mine, the anger slowly drained out of them, and she just looked… tired.
Griff said she stayed back for a family emergency, and I hadn’t asked if everything was okay. I was such an asshole. “Are you?—”
“Okay, here’s the plan.” She pointed toward the living room. “You are going to glue your ass to that couch. You can stay here until we reach Sydney, at which point, she’ll drive from San Jose to pick you up. There will be no more driving from you until every last brain cell is free of symptoms. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t hide my grin. Her bossiness was fucking hot.
Her brow crinkled. “Don’t call me that.”
“Aye aye, Fran.”
“Absolutely fucking not.” She grabbed my arm and shoved me back through the doorway and toward the couch. “Fran, Franny, every version of that is a no-go.” My butt hit the cushion before I realized she’d pushed me. She kept going. “Right now, we’re not with the team, so I won’t demand you call me coach, but stick to Frankie if you know what’s good for you.”
“I kind of like your demands.”
“And I’d like to never hear you flirt with me again, but we all know that’s impossible, don’t we?”
“Are you calling me a playboy? A flirty McFlirterson?”
She threw her head back. “Why must you punish me like this?”
“Not the way I generally like women talking to God.” I couldn’t help it. The flirting just came so naturally, even if I was only joking.
She picked up a pillow embroidered with three blue roses but then seemed to think better of whatever action she was about to take. “If you weren’t concussed, Valentine?—”
“What?” I lifted a brow. “Please, tell me all the things you’d do to me.”
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing once more. “Just entertain yourself. I’m going to take a shower.”
Trying to erase the imagery of her in the shower from my brain, I called after her. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, Teddy. You’re a big boy. Figure it out.”
Upstairs, the shower turned on, and I sank farther into the couch, trying not to listen to every sound. My eyes slid shut of their own accord, blocking out the piercing light, the chaotic swirls of colors in the room.
I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but I woke to a heavy pounding on the front door, followed by a man’s drunken yell.
CHAPTER NINE
FRANKIE
“Franny, open this fucking door right now.”
Travis’s voice slithered down my spine, making me want to shrink away and hide in the shadows forever. I stood at the top of the stairs, clad in only a towel, willing him to vanish. I couldn’t deal with him right now, not with the unmistakable slur of alcohol in his words.
A parade of memories flooded my mind. Sunny days at the park, curled up with a romantasy novel while Travis buried himself in whatever literary masterpiece had caught his attention. How he used to call my reading tastes “cute,” as though they were a little quirk I could never quite grow out of.
Dinner at overpriced spots I could never afford, with his obvious annoyance at picking up the tab, despite his tech salary that could’ve paid for it all and more. His friends, all quick to mock me, their Ivy League smarts turned into weapons against my modest coaching job.
And then, the sight of Travis and Autumn, drunk and stumbling toward me at the bar, tangled up in each other like a twisted joke.
The love I’d once felt for him withered under the weight of these memories. It felt alien now, like I was looking at ourrelationship from the outside, wondering, were we ever truly happy?
A fist pounded against the door, pulling me back to the present. He wasn’t going to leave until I forced him to.
“Fran, I know you’re in there. I can see the light on.” His voice cracked, turning into a desperate whimper. “Please.”
