Page 194 of Heart of Frost and Scars

He stays with me.

The intimacy we share is so profound and overwhelming it robs me of breath. I see the same struggle in his gaze, the mutual desire and anguish.

“Frankie.” A breathless whisper. Then he kisses me with a fierce, desperate hunger.

Through it all, our eyes remain open and connected.

“I’ll try,” he breathes against my mouth. “I’ll do better.”

“Me, too.”

Reluctantly, he lets me go.

“Go help Kody at the distillery,” I say.

He inclines his head, and I return to work.

My attempt at normalcy is fucked. The whispers and curious glances from my colleagues sting, but I push them aside and focus on my job.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I go through the motions, but my mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene over and over. By the time my shift ends, I’m exhausted, physically and emotionally.

The cool night air hits my flushed face as I step outside with the guards. Scanning the lot, I’m not surprised to find Leo waiting for me in the shadows.

“How long has he been here?” I ask Jasper behind me.

“He never left.”

I worked a twelve-hour shift, and he stood in the parking lot.

His devotion makes my chest hurt, deeply and sorrowfully.

He looks as haggard as I feel, leaning against his BMW motorcycle. I wonder how many women passed out when they saw him on that thing.

“Will you be riding to the harbor with Mr. Strakh?” Jasper asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll follow you there.”

“Give us a minute.” I stride toward my infuriating snow cabin boy, reminding myself he’s only been in the civilized world for four months.

We’ll have setbacks, and we’ll learn from them. It’s part of the process.

But that fresh crease of pain on his forehead is my doing, and it breaks my heart.

“Leo.” I sigh. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t stay away. You’re not safe here.” He reaches for my hand. “I need to protect you.”

“Protect me from working? We talked about this.” My voice rises, drawing the attention of passersby. “I can’t do my job under your constant surveillance.”

“Do you know what it’s like? This relentless, clawing fucking need to shackle you to my side and force you back to safety? It rides me, Frankie. Day and night, it rides me so fucking hard I can’t sleep, can’t think. I can’t breathe without you in my sight.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I pull in a ragged breath. “But you can get help with this. You can see a therapist.”

He doesn’t argue. He just watches me with those strange, haunted eyes as if he’s losing me on a level that’s making him crazed.

I understand their reluctance to talk to someone. Their childhood abuse is so deep and painful. Reliving it again, exposing it, and dissecting it is terrifying and traumatic. They won’t even open up to me about it.

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