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“What do you want from me, Leland?” he asked breathlessly.
“The truth,” I said with a helpless shrug.
Franky took a deep breath, lacing his hands behind his neck before releasing one and palming the side of my throat with it. I closed my eyes, gripping his forearm and enjoying his touch in a way I’d never let myself do before.
“The truth is, I don’t have the answers to any of those questions, Leelee Bear.” He’d called me that plenty of times in jest. This time he said it with a type of despair that left me unable to think. He said it like maybe it could be the one good, normal thing in all of this. “Truth is, the only time I’m not lost, the only time I have a clue about anything, is when I’m with you.” He squeezed my neck, making it difficult to breathe. Or maybe his confession had been what cut off my air supply.
“So you do know what you want,” I said.
“Yes,” he answered, as if that ugly truth had been torn out of him.
“Then fucking take it,” I dared before I could stop myself. If he’d been hoping I would talk some sense into him, he was wrong.
“Just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean we should act on it, because an even bigger truth is that this won’t end well. I can’t make you any promises. I will likely regret what comes next, and I’ll likely hurt you beyond repair.”
“I. Want. You. Anyway.” I turned each word into a punch for maximum impact.Don’t forget the scratch-offs.Noon’s reminder worked its way into my resolution, but I was in a gambling mood, ready to risk it all, and I was done with pretending otherwise. “Take what you want, Franky, and I promise I won’t ask for more.”
“I’m married,” he said, a warning, not a reminder this time.
“I promise,” I said again.
“Leland—”
“Ipromise, Franky.”
Thunder cracked overhead, stealing his attention, and I glared at the roaring sky, ready to curse the fucking gods judging us from beyond it.
“It’s not that simple,” he insisted.
“Itisthat simple. But you want to act like it’s not. You want to first turn yourself inside out for an eternity before you finally lay more than a hand on me, because in your mind it shouldn’t be such an easy thing to do.” My statement reminded him of the hold he had on me, and I slapped my palm to the back of his hand when his grip loosened on my neck, afraid I’d lose my mind—lose him—if he let go of me.
“You own a company you hate running, you have grown children you tiptoe around, and a wife who doesn’t really know you or understand your restlessness. What decent human being would risk all that for a chance to feel good, right? Not without first making himself sufficiently sick with wanting.” I wasn’t trying to pressure him. Wasn’t trying to be a bad influence either. I was merely telling him what he wanted to hear, what heneededto hear. We were working through every objection out loud before falling into our selfishness.
I would’ve stood there all night daring fate to strike us down, would’ve risked being burned to cinders by one errant spark of lightning if it meant I’d end up in his bed. It should’ve shamed me to admit that, even if it was only to myself, but I had a metaphorical stack of scratch-offs in front me now, and there was no turning back.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, shouting to be heard over the rain that had given no warning before pouring down on us. I let him drag me inside as he complained about me already being sick.
“Maybe I don’t,” I conceded. “But I knowyou. Your foul moods are equivalent to a fucking earthquake, and all I can do when you’re experiencing one is hold on to something and grit my teeth until they pass. You’re a category-5 shit-storm on a good day, Franky, but on a bad day? God, on a bad day, I wanna be the thing you take it all out on. When you feel good, I feel like I can take on the world or ignore it for one more second to be with you.
“I know you like a bottle of Stella right before dinner because it helps you unwind, making it easier to walk away from whatever you’re hacking away at on the patio. I know you love your family, and that you wish you could be different for them. More nurturing, more present, and less regretful… But before you can be different for them, you need to be different for yourself.”
“Leland,” he said, cradling my face between his strong hands. “I didn’t know my being withdrawn affected you so much.”
“I love your darkness, Franky. And I would take being in the eye of your storm over being on the edge of it any day. You’ve been struggling with this, haven’t you? I know that now.”
“Leland,” he pleaded, eyes erratic, unable to choose a spot on my face to crash land on. He tapped his wet forehead against mine, then pulled away, looking over my rain-splattered clothing with a frown.
“I’m fine,” I said, holding back a sneeze. I let him pull my t-shirt off anyway. He dried my hair with it, effectively forcing us into an interlude.
“Who else knows you, Franky?” I asked, getting the conversation back on track. “Not who knows Franklin Kincaid, but who knowsyou.” I rubbed a hand over his heart, feeling it pitter-patter faster than a hummingbird’s wings.
“No one,” he said, shuddering from my touch. He glanced over to the photo on the coffee table. It had been there for a while now, but neither of us had mentioned it. “At least not anymore.”
I rewound my mental recorder, playing back something he’d said a little while ago.
“No one takes anyone else from me.”
Suddenly, I was both curious and jealous, and the hand on his chest curled into a tight fist. Theo would have to wait until later, though, because right now it was about Franky and me.
