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Frankie shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Navarone asks.
“Well, look at you two. You loved each other and it all went to shit.”
“Frank,” I begin.
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?” Navarone asks.
“Because I know what happens to two people when it breaks.”
Navarone lets go of my hand. “Frank, Evan loves you. He’s always loved you.”
“I can’t. We can’t,” he roars, pushing past us and slamming the door behind him.
“I’ll talk to him,” Navarone says, giving me a reassuring smile and kissing my forehead before running after Frankie. His kiss isn’t forced. And I smile when it dawns on me that every time we’re together, we are piecing back the parts we broke.
