He nodded, but didn’t leave. “And no one knows we’ll be there?”
The question crawled across her throat. “The public haven’t been tipped off.” She shifted to shadow her other eyelid. “The car will pull into the alley behind the venue, so no one will see you go in either. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes.” One of his legs started jiggling.
“Security will be tight. Only guards that you’re familiar with will be positioned inside.”
He gave a single nod. Then his attention skirted her phone where it sat on the vanity beside her makeup bag—and she realized it was almost five o’clock. On Friday.
He’d come for Jonah.
“Loudspeaker again,” she said, digging in her bag for eyeliner, “or do you want to answer this time?”
At his silence, she turned to meet his stricken stare.
“Well?” she prodded, almost gently.
“I just—” Pain bracketed his mouth as he looked away. Tommy rarely spoke in fractures. He took the time to be articulate. Lowering his face, he fisted a hand into his hair and she recognized the tension in his grip—the charged potential to pull as hard as he damn well could. His voice was hushed and tortured as he said, “I just want to hear him.”
Oh God. After the day she’d had, Frankie felt like overstuffed luggage—heavy, splitting, bordering on unzippable—and Tommy’s words jammed in sympathy and frustration without even folding first. Her skin frayed a little further. These friends had been through hell together and Tommy had yet to come out the other side. And he wouldn’t. Not while they lived on opposite sides of the world.
Despite her ache to agree, she said, “It’s not fair to listen without him knowing. Loudspeaker means we both talk to him.”
“One minute,” he instantly challenged.
“There are things he might not want you to hear.”
His features sharpened—she practically heard the shink of a blade against a whetstone. “What things?”
“Well, since you asked, I’ll just break his trust and spill, shall I?”
He scowled at her sarcasm. He’d timed his visit well. Before she could talk him into answering the call, her phone started to ring.
“Would you excuse me?” She picked it up, arching a brow. “This is private.”
“Loudspeaker.” An order.
She hesitated. No. He couldn’t abuse his authority to eavesdrop on Jonah. She crossed her arms as the ringing continued. “So, you’ll talk?”
His tense-jawed silence denied it.
She sighed. “I think you should leave, Tommy.”
“Please.” He stood abruptly, broad and fierce, and seemed to struggle to contain his surging desperation. “Just this once.” Pain crushed his features as he turned to press his forearm against the tiled wall. His next words were a murmur directed at his feet. “I’m never going back.”
He was—never going back.
To Sage Haven.
Frankie almost groaned as concern crammed into the mess inside her. Kris had relayed the conversation he’d had with Tommy in the stables—that Kris had admitted he couldn’t be king without Tommy’s support. Was it possible that in all the time Tommy had been in Kiraly, he’d squirreled away a kernel of hope that his brothers would find their feet and offer for him to return to Sage Haven? Was it possible he’d been waiting all this time to go home—only for Kris to finally, explicitly, state he needed him here? Would always need him here?
Tommy would’ve struggled to leave his brothers at their request—but he’d never abandon them. His seed of hope had died.
He would never see Jonah again.
“Fine,” she said. “One minute.”
He kept his back turned as she answered the call and switched to loudspeaker.
“Hey, Jones,” she said, setting it on the vanity and picking up her eyeliner.
“Hey, Frankie!” Jonah had the kind of sunshine voice that made rain-drenched fields sparkle. Positive, genuine, forever helpful. She was equal parts in awe and in love with it. “How was your day?”
“Epic. I feel like I’ve been trampled by a fucking gorilla.”
“Oh no.” Even serious, his brightness shone. “That’s awful.”
“All part of the job.” She retraced the line beneath her eye, aiming for dark and defined. “Sorry, but I can’t talk long. Mark and Ava have their events tonight.”
“That’s right! Send me a photo or two? I’d love to see.” He fell silent, and she imagined him sitting alone at his kitchen table, house empty around him, staring past the hay sheds toward the farmstead next door in the distance. Staring toward the friendships he’d lost when his neighbors had embraced the royal heritage he’d never been told about. Then he asked, “How’s