And it all became so painfully obvious to me in the darkness.
I couldn’t give her that.
Sure, the physical connection I could compete with, I knew without a doubt that if I somehow convinced Frankie to kiss me, there would be an explosion of chemistry. I wasn’t talking about that.
I was talking about what happened before and after their kiss.
The emotions.
Eli told her she was incredible. He validated her fears and struggles. He comforted her.
I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know how. There wasn’t a tender bone in my body, and she obviously wanted that—wanted him.
Which made the tension in my truck cab, built in the silence around the hum of the heater and the soft breaths from her in the passenger seat, even worse for me. That’s all it would ever be—tension.
On my part, not hers.
I was hanging on by a thread, every annoying tick of my turn signal threatened to push me over the edge as I drove her across town.
Part of me wished she’d yell at me for spying on them, or even give me some crass, snarky jab about making her ride home with me. Yet she just wouldn’t fucking budge, and with each second of silence, I cracked, getting dangerously closer to telling her the truth.
Eli’s hushed words echoed through my brain as I left the room, I knew I wasn’t supposed to hear them, but that didn’t change anything now.
“Think of me when you kiss him goodnight.”
What the hell was that? He handed her off to me to drive home like it was some—team effort. Like I was there to pick up where he left off and help out with the cause.
Fuck, that made me angry enough to clench the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ached, groaning in sync with the stitched leather.
I wasn’t angry at Frankie, not really. Even though I wanted to be after watching her kiss Eli so passionately. That part didn’t even really bother me, aside from making me green with envy. I wasn’t even angry with Eli for making a move on her.
I was angry at how badly I wanted to bethatguy—the one who always knew the right thing to say. The one who made people feel safe and secure just by smiling. The one who made even Frankie Blake melt and soften for him.
Instead, I was the rough-edged man who sat there, feeling like a third wheel in my own goddamn truck.
When I pulled into her driveway, my headlights sliced across the front lawn as I parked by the small front porch. Still, she didn’t speak.
Still, I didn’t move.
Say something, Trav.
Do something!
Nothing would come to mind though, or better yet, millions of things came to mind, I just didn’t know how to do them. I was no good at that stuff.
“You’re mad.” She breathed, and my hands instinctively tightened around the wheel again as I stared off into the darkness.
“I’m not mad.”
“Bullshit.”
The quick snap of her strong voice was enough to draw my face around in her direction and make me look at her.
Reallylook at her.
Her cheeks were still pink, but not from the harsh cold air outside. Her eyes were glassy but sharp. She cried not long ago, and she looked like she might do it again.
Though she looked more like she might rip my head off instead.
