enough to cup my face in both hands and search my eyes. “Frankie, I can’t understand you.”
“Pazza, my dog.” I manage a long slow breath without crying. “She’s with Lo.”
“Your friend, Lorena?”
I frown. “Y-yes, Lorena. But how did you know?”
“You’ve mentioned her a bunch of times, Frankie.”
Pretty sure I might have mentioned her once but… Ren’s thumbs stroke my cheeks, making this dazed feeling wash over me. My breathing calms again and tears finally stop blurring my vision. “Pazza,” I whisper.
“Do you want to go to Lorena’s? You need somewhere to stay until they sort this out and you feel safe to come home.”
Lo has a new girlfriend, Mia. A new girlfriend that she’s mildly obsessed with, who recently took the cohabitation leap and moved into Lorena’s studio. I can’t stay at Lo’s. There’s nowhere to sleep and no privacy.
Then there’s Annie. Annie and Tim are expecting their first baby, and their second bedroom is now a nursery, not to mention, they’re at the hospital possibly preparing to bring home a premature baby. Sure, they have a couch, but I can’t sleep on couches because they’re hell for my joints.
Last time I slept on a couch was at a house party in college, and the next morning, I couldn’t get out of it. I had to be helped upright by the guy I’d just finally given into dating. As soon as he got me standing, he made up some excuse about a Saturday study session he’d forgotten about. He’d never seen me have a bad day, and on my first one, it scared him off. On my slow walk home, I texted him we were over. Then I sat in the shower until the hot water ran out, soothing the aches in my joints as much as my heart.
“Um.” I wipe my nose. “I think I’ll just get a hotel tonight.”
Ren frowns. “The hell you’re sleeping in a hotel, Frankie. You just came home to a ransacked house. You need to be with friends.”
“Søren.” I scrub my face. He’s right, and I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to stay somewhere impersonal and be alone. But I don’t have any other options. “You’re being high-handed.”
“Francesca. You’re being stubborn.”
I drop my hands. “I do not have a wide friendship circle. I have two friends, and neither of them have room for me.”
Ren bends so our eyes meet. Holding my gaze, he sets out his hand, facing up. Without thinking, I slide my palm across his, swallowing a sigh at the heat of his skin. His fingers gently wrap around mine.
“You forgot about one more LA friend, and he has more room than he knows what to do with, Frankie.” That bright Ren Bergman smile twinkles in the moonlight. “Me.”
Ren
Playlist: “Sisyphus,” Andrew Bird
This is fine. It’s fine. I’m fine.
If I tell myself this enough, it’s going to be fine.
Frankie sits in the backseat, baby talking to her dog, Pazza, a Siberian Husky and Alaskan Malamute mix. She’s not crying anymore, which has significantly improved my ability to breathe properly and drive us safely to my place. Frankie crying made me feel like my heart was being cut out of my chest.
After talking with the cops, they confirmed a break-in and took inventory of what was stolen—her TV, her computer monitor that she connects to her laptop, emergency meds, most of her clothes, and a lot of pantry items. One small comfort was she kept all sensitive information in a secure safe, so the police were confident her identity wouldn’t be stolen.
With nothing left to do at the bungalow, I navigated us, per her request, to the In-N-Out drive-through, prepared to buy the franchise if necessary, whatever it took to put a smile on her face.
Two chocolate shakes, three large fries, and a Double-Double later, Frankie seemed tentatively comforted. But our trip to Lorena’s place in Echo Park, was the real fix. She hasn’t stopped smiling, cuddling Pazza, a massive black and white dog with keen gold eyes who stares at me in the rearview mirror, baring her teeth.
“Frankie?”
“Yes?” she singsongs right into the dog’s furry neck. “Who’s my good girl?”
Pazza finally breaks her glare long enough to turn and lick Frankie’s face.
“Your Musky looks like she wants to eat me for dinner.”
Frankie laughs softly. “This mix is called an Alusky, Søren.”
I try to ignore how much I like hearing Frankie say my full name. I’ve healed from most wounds sustained in the tough teen years, but the brutal teasing I