Page 33 of One Last Verse

“There are a bunch of reporters in the front,” I told Frank nervously.

“I know.” His gaze found mine. “It’s okay.”

“We’ll be all over the tabloids.”

He stared at me intensely, his blue irises sparkling. “That’s fine.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to hide anymore.” His voice was a frail whisper.

My head spun. This was unexpected. We’d hardly discussed going public. There was no doubt I wanted it more than anything—the secrecy drove me insane. But we had no plan. My mother and Ashton would get caught in the fallout. “Me neither, but what about my family?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that,” Frank said calmly, touching my cheek. “There’s a car waiting in the back that you can use.” His eyes were bright and incredibly alive, and he shone like a lucid dream.

“What about you?” I wanted to hug him, but the fear of being accidentally seen by someone who had no business seeing us together rendered me motionless.

Frank grinned. “I’m going to go outside for a bit and sign some autographs.” He pulled his hand away from my cheek and laced our fingers together. My skin went ablaze. We stood close, just a couple of inches separating our bodies.

“What about my car?” I asked, squeezing his palm gently.

“Roman will get it.”

I nodded and his grasp weakened. Our hands fell apart as we walked out of the room. Face riddled with panic, Ashton was still waiting for me in the hallway.

“Umm, there’s a bunch of reporters,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I’ve got all this stuff.” He motioned at the camera bags.

“Where’s Levi?” I asked.

“Went to move the car.”

“Text him to go around and meet us in the alley.”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Frank told me, smiling, then gave Ashton a pat on the back. “Are you keeping it gangsta, bud?

“Always.” My brother’s chin went up and his shoulders straightened. I would’ve sworn he grew at least two inches taller right before my eyes.

“Good. Just stay out of trouble,” Frank said and headed over to the reception area.

The front doors swung open and I heard the noise coming from outside as it slipped into the building and carried across the corridor. Anarchy took over the parking lot. People shouted. Cameras clicked.

Frank was like a magnet. For a second there, it felt as if the energy of the entire city was gathered around him.

A limo waited for us at the rear of the building. Levi’s truck pulled up a few minutes later and when Ashton got in with him, I was left alone. The silence soothed my erratic heartbeat. On Twitter, videos and photos of Frank and Isabella signing autographs outside the privately owned rehearsal space in Hollywood began trending long before he joined me. Roman had parked the limo around the block, and after he helped Frank inside, he hopped in the front.

“Home, boss?” he asked.

“Yes.” Frank relaxed against the seat and pressed the privacy screen button.

I scooted closer until our thighs brushed. He breathed hard and loud, and fatigue lined his face. I could tell this had been a very difficult day for him physically.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

Frank readjusted his arm in the sling and rolled his neck. “Like I’ve been fucking run over.” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I’m sorry about last night, doll.”

There were so many things that I needed to tell him pivoting inside my head, I didn’t know where to even start. My tongue refused to move.

“I can’t seem to get a fucking break.” He paused to catch his breath, eyes closed, chest heaving.

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