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“Fuck, I’ll go,” Frankie mumbles, following Evan and grabbing his arm. They talk in hushed tones. Both men are poised to strike, tension radiating from their bodies. Evan tries to lay his hand on his cheek, but Frankie slaps it away, shouting for him to stop fucking around. Evan grinds his teeth together, clenching and unclenching his fists. His eyes glaze over, and I recognize Evan’s stance. It’s the same one he had when he came back from Afghanistan: angry as hell.
Navarone walks over, stopping right next to me. “Shit. It’s going down, isn’t it?”
I nod, taking his hand. A slow smile spreads across his face when he intertwines my fingers through his.
“What was that?” Evan drawls, no emotion in his voice.
All the conversations stop. Axl and Gunner head our way from their seats on the porch. Tommy lays his hand on Max’s shoulder. Fuck, this is not good.
“Evan,” I plead, before he says something he’ll regret.
He shakes his head, with hurt in his eyes. “You’re goddamn drunk, Frank. Drop it.”
Frankie holds out his arms. “Maybe I am, asshole. But you’re fucking jealous I was busy doing that chick last week.”
The muscle in Evan’s jaw ticks. “I don’t care about some nameless girl. Tell it to me straight, Frank. You weren’t talking like that last night when you were moaning my name, were you? Or were you pretending to be too drunk to remember again?” he bellows.
Frankie throws his bottle on the ground, shattering the glass. Before I know it, Frank takes a swing at Evan and the boys are rolling around in the grass.
“Fuck you,” Frankie roars, clocking Evan in the jaw.
I try to break up the fight but Navarone holds me back, shaking his head. “Let them fight it out, babe.”
Tears sting my eyes as they keep throwing punches.
After what feels like forever, Gunner and Rone step between them, with Austin trying to hold Evan back. It’s not easy with his two-hundred-plus pound frame. Both the boys are covered in blood, their shirts torn.
“Do not ever touch me again,” Frankie roars.
“Frank,” Evan whispers, trying to grab his hand.
Frankie wipes the snot from his nose with the palm of his hand.
Staring at each other, they both break in front of my eyes, their shoulders slumping. I spot the love in Evan’s stare, and the fear and love in Frank’s.
Frankie points a shaking finger in Evan’s face. “I’ll kill you if you fuck like that with me again,” he says, voice shaking.
Evan tries to take his face between his shaking hands, but Frankie slaps his hands away and I see the tears in Evan’s eyes. “You don’t mean that,” he says, stumbling over his words. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Evan like this.
“Don’t I?” Frankie grits out. They hold each other’s gaze and something changes between them. Evan takes a step toward him and I think they’ll kiss. Frank’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, his chest moving up and down, seemingly anticipating what’s to come.
Evan stops when he notices we are all watching them and steps back. “If you can’t lay your heart on the line like you do when you’re with me, then this is fucking over,” he shouts.
Frankie’s eyes go wide. “You don’t mean it.”
“I’ll move out,” Evan grunts, looking around the group walking away from us.
“Don’t say that, man,” Austin groans.
After storming back into the house, Evan slams the door behind him, almost knocking Wyatt over. Frank hangs his head, stumbling to the back of the yard. Navarone goes after Frankie, talking to him in hushed tones.
I run into the house. Evan’s car keys are gone. When I sprint outside, he revs his engine before putting the car in reverse. He doesn’t look at me when he speeds away.
Max and Tommy are waiting for me when I head back inside.
“Fuck, kid, I’m sorry,” Max mutters, taking me into his arms.
“This is such a mess,” I whisper.
