Kris stepped toward her, his features stricken. “Frankie . . .”
She shook her head, tears falling. “You’re right.”
“That wasn’t what I—”
“It’s a good question and I should—”
“No.” Kris kept coming, stopping in front of her with a wildness in his eyes. He took her hands. They both trembled in each other’s grasp. “Don’t. I didn’t mean that. Don’t say anything.”
“You think I don’t?” Dismay bled cold in her chest. “I thought you knew—”
“I do.” He kissed the back of her hand, his mouth hot and helpless against her. “I know you do. Please. I don’t want to ruin the first time you say it. I didn’t mean that, okay?”
She stared at him, numb from sternum to spine.
“Please don’t,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“I love you, Kris.”
He closed his eyes as if she’d gutted him in return.
“I love you,” she said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
Panic rode on his protest. “You have to—”
“If you make me leave, I’ll never trust you again. My job has to be separate from our relationship. And our relationship has to be separate from your authority. If you pull rank to protect me right now—to make me obey you—I can’t trust that you won’t do it again.”
Distress reddened his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Love me enough to risk me.”
A tear ran down his cheek and he used the back of her hand to swipe it aside. “I don’t want to. I’m not breaking up with you. I’m keeping you safe.”
Then why did it feel like the opposite? “You can’t.”
Those words seemed to break him. On an agonized groan, he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t say that.”
She let him hold her, but she couldn’t find the strength to lift her arms around him.
He hadn’t taken back his threat to relocate her.
A knock came from the kitchen door and Kris pulled away, running a hand over his face. “What?” he demanded.
Zara poked her head inside. “Guys?” Worry was wide in her eyes, no doubt for Adam. Guilt clamped back down on Frankie’s lungs. “We’re ready for the ceremony. Kris, have you got the rope?”
He cleared his throat and gestured to the bag sitting on the kitchen floor, just inside the door. “It’s in there.”
“Bring it out,” Zara said, and slipped away.
Frankie and Kris didn’t move for several beats. In the small moment of her interruption, his energy had reformed. No longer broken but seething between them, fierce and loyal and snarling.
He wasn’t going to let her stay.
“Would you rather keep me safe,” she said under her breath, “or keep me by your side? Because you can’t have both. If you choose safety and send me away, I’ll never stand by your side again.”
That tore fresh torment across his perfect face.
“No wet socks on this one,” she said.
Then she wiped her cheeks and walked out.
15
The others seemed to sense they’d had a fight, but aside from troubled sideways glances, no one said anything. Which was useful, because the buzzing in Frankie’s ears had morphed into an underwater distortion, and when the ceremony started, she couldn’t make out what anyone was saying.
It didn’t matter. She positioned herself on the far side of the display, ensuring everyone else blocked Kris from view, and kept her face directed at where Mark and Ava sat on silk-cushioned stools exchanging what she assumed were words of devotion.
Under different circumstances, she would have liked to listen. It seemed like a beautiful tradition. An elaborate floor spread was laid out on a pristine white sheet with gold embroidered edges, rich with items to symbolize a happy marriage: flatbread and fresh herbs for prosperity; eggs for fertility; walnuts and almonds and hazelnuts for abundance. Coins and flowers and fruit; honey and spices and books of poetry. Candles were lit, and a large mirror was set before the couple.
You need to leave Kiraly.
It was like he’d poured concrete down her throat.
I can’t have you here.
Set hard in her airways.
I need you to be safe.
Tight and heavy and impassable.
She couldn’t breathe.
What about what she wanted?
Zara was saying something. Mark and Ava poured cardamom tea and drank it from each other’s cups.
Frankie almost turned away when Kris moved up the front with Tommy to fasten Mark and Ava’s hands together with rope from their old ranch. Binding their past, present and futures together.
You’re my future.
Kris swung a pleading glance in her direction. She dodged it—and instead ran into the excruciating likelihood that he would choose her safety.