to say when Frankie brings herself up without knowing it’s Frankie I’m always thinking and talking about.
The wind snaps between us and tugs a dark ribbon of hair across her face. Carefully, I slide my finger along her cheekbone and tuck that loose espresso strand tight behind her ear. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. She leans, almost imperceptibly, into my touch. I let my fingers trace the shell of her ear, whisper lighter than a breeze down her neck, before I drop my hand.
“It was my brothers,” I manage hoarsely.
She frowns. “Your brothers? Where are they?”
“They left. Right when you got here. Trust me, you’re not ready to meet them. Not the man-cubs. You saw the carnage they left on the table.”
Her soft laugh and smile hit me, a double wave I wasn’t braced for. I can count on one hand the times I’ve made Frankie laugh. It feels like a gift.
“Did you tell your family about UCLA?” I sweep up Pazza’s ball, fake her out, then send it flying in the air.
“I did. I called them before water aerobics and told them. They were excited for me.” Frankie clears her throat. “Oh, and I had a voicemail from my landlord. He said they’re still fixing the damage done to the kitchen and my room, but after that it’ll be ready. I should be able to get in by next week, after our games in Minnesota.”
“Well…that’s good.”
Verbal brilliance, Bergman.
I’m a nervous wreck. There’s so much I want to tell her and none of it will disentangle in my brain. I want to ask her to stay, even when that bungalow is safe to return to. I want to confess that I’m wild about her. I want to ask if she’s even a little wild about me, too.
But the one thing all five Bergman brothers agreed on tonight was that I should wait to tell her how I feel.
The when was not a unanimous agreement between my brothers. While Axel and Oliver said to wait until she’d left the team, Ryder and Viggo voted not to wait that long, just until she’s back in her own space again, at which point, if I told her and she didn’t feel the same way, she at least wouldn’t be stuck under my roof.
Just stuck working with you.
Frankie stares at me. I’ve noticed she does it sometimes, like she’s not just looking at me, but as if she’s trying to look into me.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
I balk at that. “What do you mean?”
“I thought maybe you were angry. Your answer was short. And that usually translates to me as anger.”
“Frankie, no.” I have to restrain myself from hugging her. I want to kiss her forehead and beg to know how I made her feel I was angry with her when I’m so far from it. “Why would you think that?”
Her gaze drifts to the waves breaking on the shore. “Reading people is tricky for me. Usually, I can’t tell by someone’s face how they’re feeling, not until I know them really well and I have lots of time to learn their expressions.” She turns and stares at me again, her brow furrowing seriously. “That’s because I’m autistic.”
Air rushes out of me. Frankie’s on the spectrum.
God, I’ve been thick. While I know it’s unique to each person, I’m familiar with autism’s complexity, the way it both hides and sneaks out. My youngest sister, Ziggy, who I’m close to, was diagnosed just a year ago. Axel hasn’t been diagnosed, but more and more since Ziggy’s diagnosis, I wonder why he hasn’t been. The point being, I’m well acquainted with the autism spectrum in people I’m close to. Why didn’t I recognize it in Frankie?
Stepping nearer, I tentatively thread my fingers through Frankie’s, bracing myself for her to pull away, to reject the gesture. But she doesn’t. Instead she slides her fingers tighter with mine. “Thank you for telling me, Frankie. For trusting me.”
She tips her head, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I wish I’d told you sooner. But when I met you, you were just another player on the team. It didn’t seem necessary.”
One little word—were—but it makes hope soar through my body.
“Can I ask why you don’t tell others? Why you’re telling me now? If that’s personal, I understand.”
Frankie squeezes my hand, and I have to stifle the rough inhale it causes. Her palm’s soft and cool from the night air. It fits perfectly inside mine.
“I have a…a mask that I