That and Brooke. He’d learned to forgive his sister—and it wasn’t as though she’d done anything to him that she needed his forgiveness for. It was just he’d gotten through his adolescence and some of his young adulthood by blaming her, by thinking she’d had it better somehow. The grudge had been a crutch.
And it had taken some work to get over it, just like it had taken some work to accept all the people ready and willing to help him build a real life outside of everything that had happened to him and everything he’d done.
He knew those people werewillingbecause of Brooke, but getting to know his sister as an adult these past two years had made him fully understand why anyone and everyone rallied around Brooke.
She was a good, kind person. It was at the very core of who she was. No time in the Sons or in a crappy foster home had dulled that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had it to be dulled.
Franny had it. It was the only explanation for him telling her about the Sons.
He’dseenthe questions building up inside her, but she hadn’t voiced a one. She would, he thought. In the next few days,she wouldn’t be able to resist. He could have offered more, explained it deeper.
He’d wanted her to see only the surface of it. A stop sign.
Because it felt a bit like they were on a strange precipice. Neither quite sure what to do with each other. Both a little too…attracted.
Polar opposites. Maybe it made sense. Not that he shouldletit make sense. He should be erecting very clear boundaries to a very complicated and odd situation.
Instead, he had…fallen asleep on her couch. The lights were out but the glow from the microwave clock allowed him to make out the shadows of furniture. He could smell cookies, but the scent was faint.
Hell, how long had he been out? He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Four. He’d slept for like…at least six hours. He shook his head and clicked on the phone flashlight. On the coffee table in front of him were a stack of blankets and a pillow with a little piece of paper on top.
He picked up the note, read it in the light of his phone.
Royal,
I thought it best to let you sleep. Text me when you need to leave, and I’ll get up to set the security system. Otherwise, I set my alarm for six and I’ll wake you up so you can get to your shift. Feel free to use whatever you need. Bathroom is in the hall.
—Franny
Like he wouldn’t have known who’d written the note. Which made him smile, but not as much as the little PS at the end.
I’m sorry, but I ate all the cookies.
It was four in the morning. It’d be silly to wake her up now to set her security system. He might as well just try to get another hour or two of sleep on the couch.
He grabbed the pillow and tossed it behind him. He didn’t bother with the blanket. Even though he could hear the air-conditioning working, it was hot up here.
He lay back and stretched out. He was usually a little too big for a couch, but this was a good size. Cushy. The pillow smelled fresh and clean, kind of like her. He looked up at the dark ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? Getting in way too deep, that was for sure.
Which was just impetus to see this through. Get it done. Once Albennie Ward was found and it was certain Franny was out of danger, they’d go back to passing each other on the street or bumping into each other at the bakery everyoncein a while.
Things wouldn’t feel quite so…tenuous then. He was sure of it.
Almost.
Chapter Fourteen
Franny woke up to her alarm and groaned. She turned it off immediately wondering whose bright idea it was to set it for six in the damn—
She sat bolt right up in bed. If her alarm was going off, Royal had…slept on her couch. Had he woken up at some point and decided to stay? Or had he slept in that horrible upright position?
Was she going to have to wake him up? She couldn’t let him be late for work. Not after he’d been so kind as tostay.
God, she’d slept so much better knowing he was there. Did that make her pathetic? Well, she was alive and not kidnapped so maybe she didn’t care if she was a little pathetic.
