Page 64 of Give Me What You Will

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare do that. You call me whenever, wherever, for whatever.”

Feeling too vulnerable to protect himself, Sam heard himself admit, “I miss you.”

Frankie made a soft moaning sound on the other end of the phone and then cleared his throat, “Yeah. Yeah, I miss you, too.”

“I should go…”

“No,” Frankie protested, his voice hard. “No—let me see you. I need to make sure you’re all right.”

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he saw that Frankie was video calling him. He swallowed the thick emotion bunched in his throat, wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, and answered.

Frankie was in his garage, sweat dripping from his forehead, his black hair sexily slicked back from running his hands through it. Motor oil stained the side of his whiskered cheek. He wore a green Boston University Medical School T-shirt.

“Is that my shirt?” Sam asked.

Frankie scoffed. “It’s mine.”

“That’s my shirt, Frankie! I bought it freshman year of college.”

“Fuck off,” he shot back. “I bought it at the gift shop the day you graduated.”

“No, you didn’t!”

Frankie grinned beautifully at him through the camera, his dark eyes riveted to his face, his white teeth stark against his naturally tan olive complexion. “You’ll have to come back and pry it off of me, then.”

Damn, he wanted to. He wanted to book a flight right now and be there, feeling the weight of his comforting arms around him, his kiss on his temple, telling him everything would be okay. But he couldn’t do that.

“Do you think about what would’ve happened if I had stayed that night?” Sam whispered.

Frankie released a tight breath, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And? What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said softly, pinching the brim of his nose.

“Don’t do that,” Frankie commanded sharply. “Don’t go dark on me again, Sammy.”

“I should go. I’m…”

I’m sorry?

I wish things were different?

I wish you loved me the way I love you.

“Thanks,” Frankie said, making him pause. He glanced back at the screen and saw Frankie shift nervously on his feet, stuffing a hand into his jeans pocket. “Thanks for callin’ me. I know things have changed, but I—this—you and me—I still care about you. I wanna be here for you, Sammy. If you’ll let me.”

He didn’t answer, not sure he could.

“C’mon, baby…” the word slipped out once more, and they both froze just like before. Frankie recovered faster this time. “Shit, I keep fuckin’ sayin’ that to you. I don’t know why… I’m sorry.”

He fisted his hand over the phone. “I should go.”

Frankie nodded, “Yeah. All right.” He hesitated before adding. “Call me—if you need anything.”

Sam wouldn’t, but nodded. He hung up, dropping the phone between his legs, the word ‘baby’ echoing through his ears like a thunderclap.