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The words feel wrong, out of place. He hasn’t even asked me out. I’m not even certain if we’regoingout. If we’re fuck buddies, or friends, or if I’m his booty call. But would he do this for me if we weren’t more than those things?
Chapter Sixteen
Look at Me, Baby
Istare at Lucy, because clearly I misheard her.
Surely.
‘I need this job,’ I say thickly.
I will not cry here. In front of her.
She shrugs. ‘Your boyfriend hasn’t stopped calling my office,’ she says. ‘You’re a good employee, Frankie, but I can’t tolerate this. You’ll work your two weeks’ notice. On your last day, make sure to bring a set of clothes so you can leave your uniform on my desk.’
My mind ticks over potential legal obligations my employer has to abide by, but nothing solid comes to me. I have a copy of my contract at home stuffed in a drawer. I’ll dig it out later.
Lucy fixes me with an almost solemn look. ‘Be careful with that boy, Frankie.’
A mirthless laugh bubbles out of me.
Theaudacity.
Her lips press into a line. ‘Just because he doesn’t hit you, it doesn’t make it any better,’ she says softly. ‘I’ve been in a relationship like this before, and this is how it starts. Men like this tear you down. They isolate you until they’re the only ones you can turn to for comfort for the bruises they made.’
What a shit start to the week.
If she wants to sack me,fine. If I have to work my notice period,fine. But if she thinks for a second that I’m going to maintain a professional façade now I’m out of a job, then she’s even more clueless than I thought.
Maybe I’ll key her car. Maybe I’ll graffiti the toilets. Maybe I’ll be subtle and poke a hole in one of the barrels in the cellar.
I can’t text Kai. I want to tell him so he’ll reassure me this is just part of the climb, so he’ll distract me with his bizarre stories, but I think about what Archer said. If doing something feels wrong, then I definitely shouldn’t be doing it at all.
I message Archer instead. Even though I’m angry with him. Even though this is his fault. But I don’t tell him that—I blame Lucy. Archer was just calling to see if I was okay, and she took it personally. She’s a bitch and I hate her, and Archer replies mirroring my fury.
But as I read his text, Lucy’s words echo through my mind:They isolate you until they’re the only ones you can turn to for comfort for the bruises they made.
???
Archer picks me up and drops me home. I don’t say much to him, because deep down, I know this is all his fault, but I’m scared to confess how I feel.
I remember his breath and the look in his eyes and the clump of hair I brushed out this morning.
Why would I willingly put myself in that situation when I can just avoid it by keeping quiet?
I collapse onto the bench, and I don’t let myself cry until I know I’m alone.
But I’m not alone.
‘Frankie?’
I lower my head so my hair falls around me.
Chase’s knees thud to the porch as he kneels before me. His hands find my cheeks. ‘What,’ he says slowly, ‘did he do to you?’
I wish I could speak. I wish I could find the words. But all his question does is make me cry harder.
I’m ugly crying.
