Fair.
The door shut softly behind her.
Frankie hugged her phone to her chest like a shield.
“You said not to come angry,” I said quietly. “So I tried not to.”
Her mouth wobbled. “You rang the doorbell.”
“Okay, I failed a little,” I admitted. “But I’m not here to yell. Not at you, I promise.”
She studied my face like she was searching for something specific. “You look tired.”
I laughed once, breathless. “Yeah. You too.”
Silence settled between us, heavy but not hostile.
I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “I didn’t answer earlier because I was at work. I didn’t have my phone. Archie loaned me a car—so wild that someone can loan a car—” I stopped. She didn’t need to listen to me ramble but… “I needed to get my shit together and part of that meant working, delivery had the most flexible hours but you need a vehicle. So… yeah I was telling him about it and he tossed me the keys and said to go for it. I feel weird about having it and I didn’t want to explain over text.”
It all kind of tumbled out of me in a rush.
Her eyes flicked up, surprised. “He did?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He didn’t make it a thing, you know how he is and I think he was trying to protect me.”
That earned a small, tired smile. “That sounds like him.”
I took a breath. This was the part my dad would tell me mattered.
“I need to say something,” I said. “And you don’t have to forgive me or even respond. I just—” My voice caught, and I forced it steady. “I screwed up this summer. All of us did. But I did too. I told myself you weren’t interested. In anyone. That it didn’t matter. That doesn’t excuse my choices or even make them okay. I did some pretty shitty stuff to other girls and I… I spent more time thinking about how to make myself feel better.”
Another breath exploded out of me and I tilted my head back, eyes closed.
“Look, you don’t need me dumping all of this on you. But I wanted to stress again how sorry I am that I made decisions and choices for you—hell made ones I didn’t even like—rather than just tickle you into submission and putting up a sign to make sure you knew what I was thinking rather than just assuming…anything.”
By the time I reached the last few words, I had my eyes open and I met the shimmering dampness in her green eyes. She didn’t look away.
“I should’ve been here,” I went on. “Not just now. Before. I should’ve checked on you. Should have stalked you until you talked to me instead of getting my ego crushed and letting my butthurt feelings decide anything. You’ve been my best friend since we were five. That doesn’t disappear just because things get complicated.”
Her voice was very soft when she said, “I missed you.”
That was it.
That was the thing that cracked me open.
I stepped forward then—slow, giving her time to stop me if she wanted—and sat on the edge of the bed, close but not touching.
“I missed you too,” I said. “Every damn day.”
She stared at our hands, so close they were almost brushing.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
The question hurt worse than any accusation.
“No,” I said immediately. “God, no. I’m mad at myself. And at the situation. And maybe at your mom—no, make that definitely pissed at your mom. Absolutely irked with the universe. But I could never be mad at you Frankie.”
Her shoulders sagged, like she’d been holding that question up all night.
