21. Chapter 21
Frankie
Frankie pulled a beer and paused, staring across the bar at her good friend and ex-lover. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Confusion creased McCoy’s forehead momentarily before she broke into a grin as Frankie placed a beer in front of her. “Thanks, Frankie. And why would you think that? Can I not be here without Sloane acting as a sarcastic buffer?”
“Of course you can, pet.” The nickname carelessly slipped from Frankie’s lips, making them both wince. “Sorry, old habit. What I meant to say was, I didn’t think you’d come without Sawyer.”
“Oh, well.” McCoy took a long drink before lifting one wide shoulder in a shrug. “She trusts me, and we aren’t tied at the hip. The messages you sent implied there was room for only one audience, so here I am.”
“Jesus, you’re starting to sound like her.
” But the knowledge only made Frankie smile.
It meant Sawyer was having an impact on McCoy.
It meant that McCoy found someone to stick around long enough to rub off on her.
She picked up her own beer and signaled to Lian.
“You’re on your own for a bit, but I won’t be far. ”
Lian saluted, and Frankie motioned McCoy toward an empty booth in a secluded area off to the side of the bar.
“Where’s Sloane? I never heard from her today,” McCoy said.
Frankie slid into the booth across from McCoy. It’d been a slower night for the pub, so it wasn’t overly loud as they sat across from one another.
“I think they all went to the board game place. Sloane, Andy, Evan, and Claire.” Frankie crossed her legs, studying her old lover. “Let me guess. She didn’t invite you.”
Hurt flashed in McCoy’s meadow green gaze, and she shook her head. Her teeth were clenched. “Apparently not. I don’t get it. Why does she hate Sawyer so much?”
“I think Sloane feels she has to compete for your attention now that Sawyer’s in the picture.
Self-sabotage at its finest. She’s distancing herself from you before you can.
” It’s what I’d do too, Frankie almost said, but reined her words in at the last minute.
Pushing people away was something Frankie had a lot of experience with.
“Yeah. Sawyer mentioned something similar. She did a lot of that when we were getting to know each other. It hurts.” McCoy looked troubled. “So, how have you been? I’m sorry I don’t drop in as much. You’re usually gone when I come to help out.”
“I know, and I’m grateful you haven’t quit.
” Frankie reached for McCoy’s hand resting casually on the booth table and was caught off guard at how different in size and feel it was compared to Evan’s.
How hadn’t she noticed before now? McCoy’s hands were thicker, stronger from her days spent as a mechanic.
The skin was calloused as well, with traces of engine oil embedded under some of her blunt fingernails.
Evan had what Frankie could only refer to as artist’s hands.
They were smaller, like the rest of Evan, and thin, with too-short fingernails from years of biting them.
Why was she even comparing the two? It was silly; McCoy and Evan’s similarities stopped at their preference for femmes. Frankie pulled away quickly, clearing her throat.
“The topic you’d wanted to discuss,” McCoy began with a faint smile. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Evan, does it?”
Frankie tried to keep her face impassive, but she was surprised. McCoy was as astute as ever. She was about to ask how McCoy knew when Rain approached their table with the large serving of nachos Frankie had ordered.
McCoy whistled, beaming up at Rain as the cook placed small dishes of sour cream and salsa on the table as well. “My favorite! Damn, you sure know how to treat a girl.”
Rain jerked her thumb Frankie’s way and laughed. “I just cooked it, bro. This deliciousness is all Frankie’s doing. Later.”
“It’s nothing. I just know you think better on a full belly,” Frankie explained, waving away McCoy’s gratitude, but her cheeks felt warmer. That annoyed her. Surely, she was too old to get embarrassed over such a simple thing. “How long have you known about Evan?”
The hand holding the small nacho pile stopped inches from McCoy’s mouth, and Frankie caught the mischievous wink thrown her way.
“Oh, since probably the staff party. I doubt anyone else noticed, but you looked hella jealous when Sloane pulled Evan away to go make out. We were lovers long enough that I’ve got that look ingrained in my head. ”
“Not that you bothered to heed the warning,” Frankie said, her tone dry as flaking paint.
“Evan’s young. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Frankie bared her teeth, fixing a scowl on the mug of warming beer. She gripped it in her hands but didn’t take a drink. “You’re young too,” she reminded McCoy.
“Not that young, and I don’t just mean in age. Evan seems less mature, but I guess I don’t know them all that well,” McCoy reasoned, biting into the nachos.
Frankie’s throat thickened, at a loss for words. For a moment, she had the strongest desire to snap at McCoy. “You’re right. You don’t know them. Evan is significantly more mature than you were at twenty-four, and you and I worked for almost six years before you left me for someone else.”
“Whoa, take it easy. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.
” McCoy licked salsa off her fingers, then wiped them off on the napkin before reaching for Frankie.
Her strong hand landed gently on Frankie’s forearm.
Regret shone bright in her eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Frankie.
I love you, okay? Maybe not in the way you expected, but you’re important to me. ”
Emotion swelled in Frankie’s chest and throat. She reached out to palm McCoy’s cheek, swallowing thickly. “I love you, too. For a long time, I thought if only I could … change, then maybe you would have too. But then you met Sawyer. I’m happy for you, truly.”
McCoy shook her head, smiling sadly. “I’m needy and a slut when it comes to physical touch, Frankie.
We weren’t compatible. You deserve someone who breaks down your barriers without you even realizing they’re coming down, or at least unable to stop them from falling.
You’ve known me for a long time, and yet they still shield you from me.
I know nothing of your past except that you were a cop, and you visit Emily’s grave every year on her birthday. I don’t even know who she was to you.”
Frankie opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Her hand fell away from McCoy’s cheek. McCoy pointed a finger at her before digging into her meal once more. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she said between bites. “You don’t trust anyone.”
“I can’t,” Frankie ground out, her heart racing now. She took a long drink of her beer, unable to look at McCoy.
“You’re scared, and I understand.” McCoy cleaned her fingers off again before lifting Frankie’s hand to her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss against the knuckles.
Their eyes met. “But one day, you’re gonna meet someone who makes you want to.
You deserve someone special enough to hold all your secrets and who loves you even more after learning each and every one of them. ”
Evan’s face flashed behind Frankie’s eyes, the way they looked at her that morning over breakfast. Was it all an act?
Evan already suspected Frankie was to blame for what happened to Caleb.
If what McCoy said was true, then Evan could never be that person for Frankie.
Who could blame them? The moment the truth was out, it’d be all over for Frankie.
“Which brings me to my earlier point,” McCoy said, unaware of Frankie’s inner turmoil.
“Something about Evan doesn’t feel right.
My gaydar is off the charts around them, sure, but sometimes, when they look at you, the hair on my neck stands up.
Just like that one time I was up in my nana’s attic and the old dresser moved by itself. Spooky as fuck, I’m telling you.”
“You’re being ridiculous. So far, you’re the only one who doesn’t like Evan.
” The reply came quickly, but deep in Frankie’s gut, McCoy’s concern expanded like a tumor growth.
Her stomach churned. Why couldn’t Evan be anyone other than Caleb’s sibling?
Why couldn’t she have been the arresting officer in Evan’s case, rather than the unpunished cop who’d taken their brother away?
Bullshit. You’ve been punished, just not in the eyes of the media. Her name might not have been published in the paper, but she’d been beating herself up for years over that night.
“Maybe I am, but watch yourself anyway.” McCoy scooped up another mouthful, and Frankie raised a brow as McCoy’s eyes shut in what could only be described as blissful contentment. She patted her stomach. “You not having any? I swear I’ll eat the whole thing.”
Frankie tried for a smile, but if McCoy’s squint was any indication, she’d failed miserably.
Knowing what she knew of them, was she just setting herself up with Evan?
She was no saint and would make an appallingly terrible therapist if that was what Evan needed.
So what made Frankie think she could take Evan on in the first place?
Sloane, Andy, and Claire returned to the pub close to midnight, heading straight for the bar counter with Evan trailing sluggishly behind. Their cheeks had a rosy tinge to them, and as the group got closer, the unmistakable scent of marijuana saturated Frankie’s nostrils.
“Not a chance.” Frankie shook her head, blocking Sloane from trying to come behind the bar. “You’re off-duty and intoxicated.”
“Hardly, boss, but fiiine, I was just trying to help you out.” Sloane huffed, skulking her way to an unoccupied stool beside Andy, who was mid kiss with Claire.
Frankie ignored both the kiss and Sloane, instead zeroing in on her favorite butch.
The pulse under her jaw thrummed with excitement as she studied Evan’s outfit.
They were wearing a new-to-them black and blue plaid button-up shirt under the open leather jacket.
A joint was tucked haphazardly under their beanie, resting directly over the sword tattoo near their ear.
Frankie’s throat went dry at the sight. “Hey, how did the evening go?”
“Alright, but I’m not sure board games are for me.” A wan smile appeared, and Evan shrugged out of the jacket before taking a seat.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“That’s my bad, Frankie.” Andy glanced at her guiltily. “I rolled two in the bathroom but passing around the one was enough. Ev was kind enough to hold on to the second for me.”
“It wasn’t my first time, Frankie. I used to smoke a lot before I was locked …” Their mouth clamped shut, and Frankie could only assume it was because Evan hadn’t told anyone else of their incarceration.
Lian returned from taking an order, slipping easily behind Frankie. The moment Sloane spotted her petite frame pulling beers from the fridge, she rapped her ringed knuckles on the countertop and drawled out, “Lian! Hand me one of those, will you? The service here is shit.”
Lian looked at Sloane’s pleading expression before lifting her gaze to catch Frankie’s eye roll. She shook her head. “Finish your order, Lian. I’ve got these guys.”
“Okay.” Lian shrugged, which caused the beers on her serving tray to rattle. She gave Sloane an apologetic smile for her efforts. “Some of your friends were here earlier. The engaged ones, and then I saw the tall, super tattooed one. She was asking about you.”
“Naz.” Sloane wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather break my arm again than go down that slippery slope.”
“So what would everyone like?” Frankie asked once Lian disappeared again.
After their drinks were made, she propped her hand on her hip, looking at Evan expectantly.
“Can you follow me for a minute? There’s something I need to go over with you in my office.
Time sensitive, so I’d rather not wait until tomorrow. ”
Andy choked on his beer, and Claire giggled. Sloane let out a long whistle. “Wow. Now I know why you used to get me to deliver notes to Coy when she was here. You suck at this.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“They know, Frankie. About us.” Evan hung their head, as if waiting for Frankie to reprimand them. Which was ridiculous. How could she ever fault Evan for something she should have been more careful about?
“Oh, well in that case,” Frankie took Evan’s beer bottle and set it aside, then reached across the bar counter to fist Evan’s shirt collar. She pulled them in, her lips a hairbreadth away from theirs. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Evan’s teasing murmur only made what they were about to do that much hotter for Frankie, and as her mouth claimed theirs in a hungry kiss, she ensured she gave everything she had to it.
If Evan was going to gossip to their friends, nothing short of a ten out of ten, boxer melting, orgasmic kiss would suffice.
Besides, there was something heady about having an audience.
“You taste like cannabis and Skittles,” she murmured, licking Evan’s swollen lips and ignoring the cheering around them. She nipped their chin.
“Cannabis,” Evan chuckled. “So clinical, but I guess that’s what I get kissing an ex—”
“Shh.” Frankie placed a finger over Evan’s lips. She tilted her head slightly to indicate the three spectators eagerly soaking up their interaction. “They don’t know about that.”
“Really?” Evan’s eyes widened momentarily before a humbled expression fell over them. They nodded. “Well, thank you for telling me.”
“Likewise.” Frankie smiled, going in for another kiss. She’d almost succeeded too, but then Sloane did the same rap-rapping of her rings on the countertop.
“Not that we’re not collectively enjoying the view, because we are, and by ‘we’ I mean my kitty and me, but you’ve got a couple of bashful customers waiting, boss.”
Andy and Claire broke into laughter, but Sloane managed to snap the spell.
Frankie let go of Evan and straightened, clearing her throat and shooting daggers at the three smirking faces staring up at her.
Her gaze shifted to the couple a few feet away.
Plastering on a smile, Frankie once again propped her hand on her hip. “What can I get you?”