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“Did you have to hit him?” The earlier guilt swam up. As aggravated as I was with all of them, I didn’t want them hurting, too. No, I didn’t always understand myself.
“Yes,” Ian said simply. “I did.” He raised his brows, hand still outstretched. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I’d already stayed hours later than I’d planned. Tabbing open my phone, I went to messages and sent a group text.
Ian is taking me home. Don’t disrupt party.
Not that the sound level from the back had diminished.
Done, I pocketed my phone and took his hand. His bike was only a few steps away. He freed the second helmet and offered it to me as he pulled on his own. We were both in shorts. He opened one of the saddlebags and pulled out a jacket, then held it over to me.
I hesitated.
“It’s going to be chilly on the bike.” A weird thing to think, but it was cool out here. I slid it on as he straddled the bike. I could swim in the jacket, but I managed to push up the sleeves enough to free my hands, and then I climbed on behind him and wrapped my arms around him.
His whole body seemed to relax as he released a sigh. Pressing his hand over mine for a moment, he said, “Hang on.” Three steps to back us up, and I barely caught sight of Archie standing just inside the alcove leading to his front door.
How long had he been standing there?
My heart wrenched, but Ian was already gliding between the cars and down the drive. In short order, we were on the road, and then I just held on as the breeze whipped over us. The engine rumbling beneath us was kind of soothing, and there was no one talking to me. Nothing to compete with the tangle of thoughts and knotty emotions binding me up. Even when we stopped for traffic lights, Ian would only put his hand over mine until the light changed, then he was reaching for the handlebars again. Yes, the air was cool against my legs, but I wasn’t cold.
I’d never been at such an impasse before. I was furious with them and wanted to comfort them in the same breath. Hating the quiet disappointment on Archie’s bruised face, even as I wanted to smack him for keeping the truth from me, twisted with the fact he’d discoveredhisdad was having an affair.
He claimed he was used to it, but how did you get used to one parent betraying another? I could barely wrap my mind around Mom dating a married man—anobviouslymarried man. She’d met Archie’s mother. There was no way she didn’t know. At the same time, the guys kept making these choices for me, about me. My own guilt just made a total muck of it all. I wanted to throw up.
Ian slowed as we reached my apartment complex. The trip had taken too short a time, and in the same breath, it felt like years since I’d left. We coasted down the slight hill to where I usually parked.
Mom’s car sat in the carport. I blew out a breath, my insides were shaky, but before I could get off the bike, Ian caught my hand. “Can I come up?”
With Mom there?
“That’s not a good idea,” I answered far more shakily than I cared to admit. I squeezed his hand once, then tugged. He let me go and I climbed off, then unbuckled the helmet.
He dropped the kickstand on his bike, shutting it off so it didn’t continue to rumble, even if it was quiet. After stripping off his own helmet, he took mine then said, “Frankie…”
“Don’t,” I begged. Fuck, I’d been reduced to begging. “Please just let me go inside and hopefully just go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know.”
The hell of it all. I believed him when he said he was sorry. Coop, too. Even Jake—despite the fact the only thing he was sorry about was that I got hurt.
Rising on my tiptoes, I pressed a kiss to his cheek, but pushed away when he would have turned his head. “Thank you for bringing me home. Please don’t fight with Archie.”
“He…”
“Didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” I could admit that, and Ian sucked in a deep breath. “He was very clear in asking me, and he listened to everything I said. I’m mad because you guys kept things from me, and I’m angry with him because he knew what was happening and told all of you and not me. But I’m not angry at him for last night.”
I wasn’t that much of a hypocrite.
“Not sure I can say the same,” Ian said. “But it doesn’t change anything for me…I can dislike it, but never you. Call me tomorrow?”
Call him. Not he would call me.
“If I don’t—will you let me have the time?”
“I can see you Monday,” he said, though it clearly pained him to say it.
