“Amy!” Hope calls. “I’ll handle it.”
I instinctively reach out for her. “Hope?—”
“Howdareyou!” she shouts, voice cracking on the last word as she storms toward me so fast that I’m bracing for impact.
I flinch. “Darlin’, please?—”
“No.” She jabs a finger into my chest, hard. “No, you don’t get to do that! You donotget to call me that right now!”
Amy stands behind her, gripping the bat like she’s waiting for her cue to swing.
Hope keeps going, her voice shaking with fury and heartbreak. “You left. You left without a word. Without a call, without a goodbye. After everything we… after everything… I thought we were—” she stutters, and it guts me. “You disappeared, Frost.”
Every word slices straight through me like a hot knife through butter.
“I know,” I say, voice rough. “I’m sorry?—”
“Sorry?” she yells. “Do you know what the past week has been like for me? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? How hurt and confused I was! I thought… I thought I did something wrong.”
The idea that she ever believed she was the problem nearly knocks me to my knees.
“No,” I choke. “God, Hope, no. It wasn’t you. It’s me.”
Amy snorts. “That’s what they all say. Move, Hope, I’m gonna hit him.”
Hope throws her arm out, blocking Amy with surprising force. “Amy, stop.”
“He made you cry,” Amy hisses.
“You’re right, he mademecry,” Hope fires back. “This is my problem to handle.”
Amy lowers the bat a millimeter. “Fine, but if he blinks wrong, I’m taking out one kneecap.”
I swallow hard. “Fair enough.”
Hope returns her focus to me, eyes watery and blazing. “Talk, Frost. Explain to me why.”
I rake a hand through my hair and begin to pace. My chest is too tight, and all the things I’ve shoved down break loose at once.
“I left because I’m a coward,” I start. “When my dad texted me about the club’s annual toy drive for Christmas, everything hit me at once. The responsibility, the grief, and the guilt. Stuff I thought I’d outrun. I felt like I had no right dragging you into all this, into my fucked up head.”
Hope’s expression flickers, and her anger seems to abate just a notch.
“I told myself you deserve better,” I continue, voice cracking despite my best effort. “Better than a guy who’s still broken over losing his mom. Better than someone who doesn’t know how to get his shit together. Anyone but me.”
Hope’s lips tremble.
“You’re still a dumbass,” Amy mutters quietly, but I hear her.
“I panicked,” I say. “I freaked out, and I ran. I shouldn’t have. IknowI shouldn’t have, but I was scared, Hope. Scared of being too much. Scared of not being enough. Scared of… losing you before I ever really had you.” I blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’ve been a wreck without you,” I whisper, the confession tearing out of me. “During the day, I walk around the clubhouse biting everyone’s head off, and at night, I can’t sleep. When I close my eyes, all I do is envision you lying next to me. I swear I could smell you if I concentrated hard enough, but it's my own damn fault I left. I’d reach for my phone to text you, but I'd get sidetracked… No, that’s not an excuse. I should’ve made time. I mostly stopped myself because I don’t deserve you. I?—”
My breath catches. Hope steps closer, slowly, like she’s approaching a wounded animal.
“Frost…” she whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, voice raw. “I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I’m in love with you. I was too fucking scared to say it, too scared to fight for it, so I ran like a coward. It nearly killed me, Hope, being without you. I didn’t realize how much you saved me from myself until I left.”
Her eyes go wide, tears spilling instantly. “Say it again,” she pleads.
