Page 69 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Then it comes to me. A song. Our song. The one we danced to at our wedding. I start humming softly, the familiar tune shaky at first but gaining strength with each note.

“Frankie, it’s me,” I whisper between the verses. “It’s Monty. I’m here. Come back to me.”

I keep humming, the melody wrapping around us.

Memories flood back—our wedding day, her radiant smile, the way we swayed together under the twinkling lights. My throat tightens, breaking the rhythm. But I push through, focusing on the music.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I notice a change. Her breathing, rapid and shallow, begins to steady. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, start to clear.

She blinks, her gaze darting around before landing on me. Recognition pulses in her eyes, and a small, fragile connection forms.

My shoulders droop as a thousand-pound mistake lifts from them.

“Monty?” Her voice is brittle, faint, but it’s there.

“I’m here. I’m right here, baby.” I keep humming, holding her gaze, willing her to trust me.

Gradually, the tension in her body melts away. She uncurls from her fetal position, extending a trembling hand to grasp mine. I squeeze it gently, offering her my strength, my love.

“You’re okay.” I brush a tear from her cheek, the echoes of our song lingering in the air. “You’re safe.”

She nods, a tiny, shaky movement, but it’s enough. The panic recedes, leaving us both drained but connected.

I haven’t forgotten Kody, his stormy presence looming behind me, his eyes boring into my back. Slowly, I turn to face him, still holding her soft hand.

Surprise and wariness war in his expression, his usual confidence shaken.

“Didn’t know you could sing…” He stares down at her, then back at me, cruelty frosting his eyes. “Like a goat.”

“Kody,” she whispers, her breathing now even as her body sags over my lap.

Within seconds, she’s asleep.

His bearing softens into something more complicated—reluctant gratitude, residual distrust, and relief.

“Guess it worked,” he mutters, his tone grudging as he runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

His gratitude is stiff, strangled. I can tell it cost him.

I incline my head, acknowledging the truce, however temporary it may be.

Leo returns, sprinting into the kitchen, out of breath and sweating.

“Reporters are taken care of. Everyone’s gone except the security team.” He glances between us, assessing the situation quickly. “Is she…?”

“Better.” I keep my voice low. “For now.”

First thing tomorrow, I’m lining up a therapist, psychiatrist, whatever she needs.

He nods, his gaze sharpening where her head rests on my thigh. If he picks a fight with me about this and disturbs her sleep, I’ll know exactly where his priorities lie.

His eyes shift to Kody, and in one look, they seem to hold an entire conversation. It’s not the first time I’ve seen them do that.

“He did good,” Kody finally says, the words surprising in their sincerity. “He calmed her down, brought her back to us.”

Leo turns to me, letting his unnerving, dual-colored stare linger several beats too long. “We need to keep her stable.”

Silence descends in a twilight of acceptance.

---