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A grey Audi screeches around the corner.
I backtrack and dart down the narrow walkway beside Archer’s house, trying to put as much distance between—
Tyres skid to a halt. A door slams.
‘Frankie!’
Maybe I should just run into the field. He wouldn’t follow me through that stream—
‘Frankie!’
He’d probably catch me, but—
A hand clamps my arm. Chase spins me around to face him, but I can’t look at him. His fingers come up beneath my chin, forcing my head up.
He’s breathless, but I don’t think it’s entirely from running to catch up to me. That’s concern in his eyes—concern that quickly flashes to something else as his gaze lands instantly on my throat.
‘Who did this to you?’ he growls. His fingers brush the angry red slash, and I flinch. ‘Did Archer do this?’
No. But the word is lost on my tongue.
His nostrils flare. He whirls and stalks back down the walkway.
‘Chase!’ I call after him, but he doesn’t stop. His hands are balled into fists. ‘Chase!’ I try again to no avail. ‘He’s not in.’
He waves a hand.Doesn’t matter; I know exactly where he’ll be.
I bolt after him and plant myself before him. He nearly walks into me as he pulls back, but my hands on his chest have nothing to do with holding him up and everything to do with getting him to stay.
‘Please, don’t—‘
‘Get out of my way, Frankie.’ His voice is gentle.
‘What are you going to do?’
His lips twitch. ‘Talk.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Okay, I’m lying. Now please move.’
‘You’ll just make things so much worse than they already are.’
His eyes widen, and I want the pavement to open up and swallow me whole, right here. I’ve just admitted I’m scared—of Archer, of the potential repercussions this will have. Chase looks disgusted, and for a moment I think he’s angry at me until he says, ‘I can’t watch him hurt you like this.’
‘He’s not—‘
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he looks almost sad. ‘It’s fucking killing me. Do you know that?’ He closes the distance between us, and I hold still as his hands come up to cup my cheeks. ‘I know I said I’d wait until you asked, but I can’t watch him do this to you. I’d rather watch myself burn than have you in pain.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you—‘
‘It’severything to do with me. It’s everything to do with everyone else who knows what he’s doing to you. Because if you choose to stand and do nothing, then you’re just as bad as the abuser. And I will not have that on my conscience.’ He pulls away, but I rush to argue it further, even if I hurt him. I need to stall him, enough for him to see reason. Long enough for his anger to dissipate.
‘So, it’s more to do with your dignity than helping me?’ I say, hating every word.
He gives me a look. For a moment I think he’s going to say something more, but he just stares at me for a long minute, and he almost seems…pitied. ‘Come on. I’ll take you home.’
‘I want to come with you.’ Try to stop it, somehow.
