you, but you didn’t let me.” He hauled his palm from the door and faced her properly. His lips curled in a sneer. “Now I blame you.”
Her expression didn’t change. It was surreal, the things Frankie could process without an external reaction. The only movement was in her throat as she swallowed.
“I understand,” she said eventually.
“Understand?” She’d known who and what he was all along. He was discovering her all at once—and it was like waking with a knife in his side. Forewarning gave her the upper hand, revealed precisely when she’d intended, and her steady stare seemed to push the blade deeper. His pride arched against it. How dare she get to watch him struggle? The unfairness of it erupted inside him. “You don’t understand anything! What the hell were you even doing in Sage Haven?”
Her stance shifted very slightly. “Monitoring your safety.”
“Fat load of good you were,” he spat, and she recoiled as if he’d struck her. Somewhere, the confused friend in him ached in apology, because despite everything, he didn’t want to hurt her. “You didn’t protect Tommy.” The night of his brother’s brutal bashing. “And now you’re head of security? What a joke.”
She’d gone white.
“You should have been there to stop it from happening.” He was practically snarling. He forced himself to back away, put space between them. His voice rose again. “You should have known those men were on their way!”
It wasn’t fair on her—shame gummed his veins as the accusation left his mouth.
That attack had been no one’s fault but Kris’s.
Frankie’s breathing was uneven. She broke position to tug agitatedly at the top button of her uniform—and his attention caught on her fingers. Bone white from nails to wrist. So she wasn’t as calm as she’d seemed, clenching her hands to death behind her back.
“You failed Tommy.” This protectiveness was familiar. He let it fill him. “And you’ve lied to him about it this whole time. He trusted you. Mark did, too, and you’ve hidden from us all.”
If he hadn’t been glaring right at her, he’d have missed it—the minor shift in her stance, the dart of her attention to the floor. Guilt, but not at his accusation.
Dread chilled him.
“Frankie,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Tell me Mark doesn’t know about you.”
The first crease of distress lined her forehead.
“Frankie,” he growled, stepping closer.
She swayed slightly as she refused to give ground. Her attention darted from his chin to his chest, and then stayed there. “I requested that he not tell you.”
“You—” His lungs drained of air. “You asked my own brother to lie to me?”
“I asked him not to tell my secret. There’s a difference.”
“Not between brothers.” He fisted his hair in his hands. His head pounded.
“It’s not his fault.”
“Don’t pretend to care about him now.” His hands came away shaking. “If you wanted to protect him, you should have come clean. I gave you every opportunity.” He hadn’t stopped trying to reach her. Like a fool, he’d hoped to draw his best friend back to his side. “I’ve begged you to contact me and you’ve been hiding under this roof from day one.”
Her pulse was racing in her neck, her tendons straining. She was still staring at his chest, and he rolled a shoulder, instinctively flexing beneath her attention. She blinked, and her gaze seemed to tighten, focusing more firmly on him.
She grew perfectly still.
Desire unfolded inside him, soft and forgiving and reaching. His body had reacted to everything Frankie had revealed—and still craved her. She’d grazed her fingers against his bare shoulders earlier. He yearned for that impossible touch again—yearned to kiss her and see if it brought his friend back in a world that made sense.
See if she tasted the way he’d always imagined. The way of wildflowers and flame and the open sky.
Sweet, hot and endless.
“What the fuck, Frankie?” he breathed, because after all this, he might never find out.
Her teeth set. She returned her hands behind her back, and a second later, shot a razor-edged glare up at him. “You just said it. You’re under this roof now. Nothing else matters.” She paused, keeping her chin high. “Since you want me to come clean, I should tell you that nothing else has ever mattered.”
He stilled. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Why do you think I’ve never touched you? Why you couldn’t seem to budge our friendship into something more?” The light from the wall sconce by the door gleamed on her forehead. She was sweating. “I know