Page 37 of One Last Verse

“If Dante succeeds in forcing me out, I’ll definitely be looking for that apartment,” he joked.

We were an odd couple. He was a hopeless medical case, and I was a woman in heat on top of him. The absurdity of this situation made me want to laugh. So I did.

“Was my speech funny?” Frank asked, grinning like a fool.

“Not really.”

“Okay then.” He paused, then the smile lines near the corners of his eyes deepened. “Do you seriously think Isabella and I should record a duet?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll ask Brooklyn to reach out to Maria tomorrow.”

I couldn’t explain what exactly I felt at that moment. My heart was big and loud and drummed against my ribs so hard, I thought it was going to burst.

I love you, Frank Wallace, my inner voice said.I love you and I won’t let anyone harm you. Not your so-called best friend, not the world, not your demons.

Chapter Five

Frank’s second surgery went well. The doctors were able to remove the loose fragments and successfully replaced the plate in his right shoulder. He returned home from the hospital the same day and spent the first forty-eight hours in bed under the spell of a morphine-induced sleep. Janet flew in from Arizona to spend Christmas with us. Corey came by a few times. Brooklyn practically lived on the property. She was already on the phone in the office every morning when I woke up and usually stayed until after dinner. Roman slept on the ground floor of the east wing.

Ashton’s eighteenth birthday was around the corner and between car shopping, the documentary, and keeping an eye on Frank, I felt as if there weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done.

Christmas wasn’t my favorite time of the year, mainly due to the shitty memories of my father, who’d always gone off the rails during the holiday season, and this year, with everything that had happened in the past few weeks, I dreaded the worst. It was a strange recurring feeling of doom somewhere below my chest. Dark and confusing, it crept up on me randomly. During a shower, during breakfast, during conference calls with potential sponsors.

I worked in a spare room down the hall while Frank was slowly coming back to his senses after the surgery. My end-of-the year editorial forRewiredfelt like a bitter goodbye and I almost teared up while typing it. We hadn’t made any official announcements on social media about my stepping down yet, but Shayne’s face was all over our YouTube channel and people started to take notice. I even received a few emails from the German fans. They were under the impression I’d left the magazine for good and wanted to know what publication I worked for now.

The biggest event of December, not counting Frank’s surgery, was the inception of our film-baby’s name.

It was official. We titled the documentaryDreamcatchers.

I loved it, and so did Maria and Isabella.

A couple of days after Frank’s impromptu appearance at the rehearsals, Levi, Ashton, and I had gotten together for a night of pizza and brainstorming in my Burbank apartment. Of course, my brother’s ideas were never good, but it seemed unfair to exclude him from the decision-making process. He’d worked his ass off these past couple of months. Obviously, I credited all his drive to Frank’s involvement.

Some people wanted to change the world and some people wanted to meet celebrities while changing the world. My brother was the latter.

Bottom line, I had been ready to do whatever needed to be done to keep him away from the Xbox.

Things were great until several days after Frank’s surgery when there came a call that ruined everything.

Levi and I had a meeting at the Guitar Center on Sunset with the Schecter rep about possibleDreamcatcherssponsorship. I was running late because Frank had been a pain in the ass all morning. His new meds made him moody and we’d spent a good hour fighting over a toothpaste tube.

“They cannot do this while he’s in recovery!” Brooklyn’s shriek drifting through the small crack under the office door caught me off-guard.

I was on my way out, but my feet stopped in their tracks on their own accord. My body stiffened.

“That’s not what we discussed. He was looking into their offer.” There were more words, some very angry and some very rude. Then a slam and a growl. A real fucking growl! The woman was pissed.

I walked over to the office and pushed the door open.

Brooklyn stood in the center of the room, face red, phone on the floor.

Dread seized my bones. “What’s going on?”

She blinked at me rapidly. Her jacket seemed too small for her double Ds when she tried to breathe. “KBC is going to fire Frank.”

I felt dizzy. “How?” My chest caved. “I thought he was going to move forward with what Dante proposed.”

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