She came at him so fast he stepped back. “Show me this damn legendary scar I keep hearing about.”
He bent, pointed.
She squinted. “That? I’ve had hangnails with more narrative arc.” She looked up. “And you made me go to therapy over it?”
“It wasn’t the cut,” he said, hating how thin it sounded. “It was how furious you were. And loyalty pushed me to have my friend’s back.”
“Which friend did my actions supposedly affect?”
“Lola. The designer scheduled afterNaked Runway. Her brother’s my best friend. We all grew up together.”
Color drained from her face. “Does she know what you did to me?”
“No. She doesn’t. My choices are mine.”
Her laugh came out like glass. “So, therapy for my anger and exile to Gi Gi’s Crossing was, what? Friendrevenge? Bring me here, keep me close, sleep in my bed, get me to like you, then leak my location so I can shatter on Channel 8 while you watch?”
“No. None of that was a plan. I didn’t tell Lola anything. I told you—”
“You told me you ran to keep your secret while I got exposed on live TV,” she cut in, heat rising. “You hid. I burned.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Newsflash: apologies are for the lily-livered. Revenge is for survivors of the asinine.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I never wanted to break you.”
Her jaw ticked. “First of all. You did not break me. Second of all. Intent doesn’t glue anything back together. And if you think I’m going to let this slide. If you think you get to walk back to your no-spotlight life without consequences. If—”
“Frankie,” he said, taking a step, plea rough in his throat. “Don’t—” About to sayact irrationally, he clamped down on the comment.
“When I’m done, everyone will know exactly who Mr. Uptight is. The manipulative coward who wrecks lives while hiding behind a woman.”
“Don’t torch your future just to scorch mine.”
Her laugh was pure ice. “I’ll take that under advisement.” She opened the back door. “Right after I light the match.”
The door slammed, the echo landing like a verdict.
This was bad. Really bad. She knew he’d left for privacy, and what better revenge than handing him to Melanie on a silver platter? Fuck. Why hadn’t he had a cover story locked and ready?
Bile rose in his throat. The math was simple. He’d just endangered them all.
The desire to chase her was crushed by his responsibilities.Family first. Always.
The only thing that could save him now was a miracle—and he and his brothers were long out of stock.
His gaze snagged on Frankie’s purse. The same bag he’d saved from a mud puddle death the day she’d blown into town like a hurricane in leather pants. It sat on the chair like an accusation. She’d notice soon. Maybe she’d come back…for the bag, for murder.
He searched his brain for a way to fix what he’d done before it brought danger to his family. And, if he was being honest, before it destroyed any feelings Frankie might have left for him.
How do you win back the woman you had just taught not to trust you?
Short of the whole truth, nothing else came to mind. And there was no universe in which his brothers would sign off on that truth.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his phone buzzed. Group chat.
Antonio:Just saw Channel 8.
