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‘Right.’
‘My dad turns eighty this year, so he’s sort of DIY when it comes to his own cars. He’s not used to the electrics on modern vehicles. Once, he was driving back from Scotland and the exhaust fell off, so he just taped it back on and didn’t fix it properly until it fell off again, but it stayed like that for two years.’
‘Your dad is my idol already,’ Chase says. He places the crate on the roof as he closes the boot. But he doesn’t make his way back to the meadow. Instead, he stands in front of me. He doesn’t touch me, but it feels like every cell in my body wants to join with his. ‘What happened to your head, Frankie?’
Oh. Shit.
‘I don’t know what you—‘
A muscle pops in his jaw, but he doesn’t look angry. He’s dangerously calm. ‘You think I haven’t noticed the bruise on Archer’s cheek? You think I can’t see that plaster on your head? I know he’s been going to your work. I was out with him last night, and he was wasted when I left him. Something happened, didn’t it?’ His voice drops and turns guttural. ‘He hit you, didn’t he?’
I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think this far ahead.
He rubs his hands down his face, takes a deep breath, and presses his hands into the car on either side of me. He hangs his head for a minute, and when he looks at me again, his eyes are bright.
‘I’ll kill him,’ he says quietly. ‘I don’t give a fuck if you took his car for a joyride round London and he was pissed, I don’t give a fuck if you insulted his mum’s crocs, I don’t give a fuck for whatever excuse you’re trying to think of. No man has the right to lay a hand on a woman, regardless of the circumstances.’ He closes his eyes. ‘But I know interfering will make things worse for you. I want to help you, Frankie, but if you say no, I’ll ignore it.’
I lick my lips. Chase—Chaseis offering to hurt Archer, his best friend, if I wish it. Chase is offering to protect me, to help me. How many times have I fantasised about Chase Maverick rescuing me from a villain? His words do something to me, to my gut and my legs and my throat, but then I think about Archer.
If I tell Chase that Archer never meant to hurt me, that it was an accident, he won’t believe me. He’ll think it’s just some poor excuse to protect Archer.
‘No,’ I say.
I swear the breath punches out of him. His lips part, and his eyes search mine for a long minute. I see the war raging behind those eyes, but in the end he nods and pulls away.
‘Okay,’ he simply says.
‘Oh, good,’ Cassie says as Chase and I re-join them. ‘I’m really pleased you could make it today.’ She doesn’t wait for Chase to hand her the crate; she jumps up and snatches it from him without a thank you.
‘You took your time,’ Archer says as I sit next to him. ‘What were you two doing?’
‘Talking,’ I tell him. ‘About cars.’
He doesn’t look convinced. The arm he drapes around my shoulders is possessive, and Chase regards it as if he wants to rip it off.
‘You made it back just in time for spin the bottle,’ Cassie says.
Chase groans. ‘Do we have to play it?’
‘Yes,’ she answers. ‘We do. But if you want to go sit over there and play charades by yourself, be my guest.’
She uses an empty beer bottle and places it in the center of the towel. Her hand hovers over it. ‘Ready?’
She spins it.
Coincidentally, it lands on Gregory.
‘Oh, this’ll be good,’ Cassie says. ‘Greg. Truth or dare?’
Greg looks up from his Switch long enough to say, ‘Uh, dare.’
‘I dare you to… I dare you to take off your shirt and run through the stream waving it around.’
‘Okay.’
We all watch as Greg sets down his Switch, rips off his shirt, and barrels through the stream. He screams as he waves around his shirt.
It’s difficultnotto smile at his complete abandon.
