Page 78 of One Last Verse

“Look at me. I can’t even button my shirt. Who wants to see someone like me on stage?”

I rolled my eyes. “Self-pity doesn’t suit you, Frank. You have a lot more than you think. You can walk.”

We stared at each other in silence. His hot, tingly breath licked my cheeks. I wasn’t sure he understood what I meant. His eyes seemed distant one second and stormy the next.

“So you’re just going to leave me now that I need you the most?” he finally asked, pressing me to the wall.

“I’ve been there for you, Frank. Through all your drunk nights. I asked you to get help, but you kept pushing me away. You ignored me, then you fucked up my project and put a stain on my name.” I paused to get more air. “But you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I’m in a state of constant terror. For myself and for you. Because you keep challenging death, and my heart can’t take it anymore.”

Our bodies lined up and I felt the buzz. Even drunk, Frank was still hot like a flame. The gentle graze of his knuckles against my cheek and the hard press of his chest against my breasts made me dizzy.

I missed this, him being so radiant with me. The intimacy we had wasn’t just about sex. It was about the stories we exchanged, about the breakfasts we shared, about the evenings we spent staring at the ocean. Our lives were intertwined like the strands of a rope.

“I’m getting help.” I heard him whisper, then his lips touched my temple. “I promise it won’t happen again. I promise you’ll never ever have to be scared again.”

“Okay.” I inhaled deeply. His scent—sex, money, depression, and expensive cologne—filled my lungs. “What kind of help? What’s your plan? I need to know.”

“Will you come back?”

“What’s your plan, Frank?”

Hungrily, his mouth captured mine. The kiss caught me off guard, and the soft brush of his lips sent shivers down my spine. My brain told me to push the man away. My heart told me to stop listening to my brain. It was a lost battle, and I gave in. Our tongues met. Our breaths lingered. We were spent from the adrenaline racing through us as we continued to indulge in each other.

I couldn’t remember the last time Frank had kissed me like this, with this much despair and need.Or had he ever kissed me like this?

I almost caved. I almost asked him to come inside so I could put him to sleep in my tiny bed and cuddle against his rock solid body.

Almost.

Then I remembered how ashamed I felt the day he didn’t show up at Gary’s studio. My reputation was all I had and he jeopardized it by pulling out of “Afterburn” in such a shitty manner.

“Frank,” I whispered, breaking the kiss as my chest heaved. “It’s best if you leave before someone sees you.”

“Who the fuck cares? We’re all over the internet, doll. You’re my girlfriend. I don’t want to leave without you.” Stubbly cheek squished to mine, he slid his hand to the back of my neck. “Come home.”

My stomach tightened. “I can’t be in that house with you when I’m not sure what you might break next. Your furniture or your neck.”

“I really am sorry things got out of control. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Can you promise you won’t ride or get behind the wheel?”

“You fucked up my bike and my garage door and I’m still here, begging you to come back.”

He didn’t answer my question. “I think distance is a wise choice for us.”

He sighed heavily as we stood in silence, cheek to cheek. His hand on my neck and his fingers threaded in my hair felt familiar yet strange.

I cupped his face and looked him in the eye. “Levi and I are about to secure the venue. I have tons of work and you should figure out where you want to go from here.”

“I don’t want to figure anything out without you.”

“I shouldn't be part of the equation. You need to do it for yourself. Not for me. Not for anyone else.”

I suspected this conversation was pointless. He didn’t get me. He hadn’t come here to talk about what had gone wrong between us and why. He’d come here because he wanted me to pat his back and tell him how unfair the world was.

News flash. The worldwasunfair. Just not to him. It was unfair to people like Isabella, people who didn’t have the backing of millions of dollars and industry friends, people who couldn’t afford expensive surgeries, people who were overlooked because they didn’t meet the horrible standards of what society thought was acceptable to be a star.

The world was indeed shit. And the one chance Frank had to make it better, he’d fucked up.

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