23. Chapter 23
Frankie
Frankie had finally dozed off when instinct kicked in, and she lurched out of reach seconds before the blade made contact.
Evan squealed in surprise, but she didn’t wait for them to regain the upper hand.
She swung her foot out and around, hitting Evan in the back with her heel.
The move had them toppling onto her, so she grabbed hold of their wrists.
“Evan, stop!”
“You killed my brother!” Evan growled, struggling to pull out of Frankie’s iron grip.
“It’s … more complicated than that!” Frankie was still on the bed, Evan thrashing above her with mad intent. Sweat poured from their face like they’d visited a sauna before delivering their attack. They looked enraged, fearful, and … and heartbroken .
I caused this , Frankie realized. No matter which way she looked at it, she’d played a part in who Evan had become in the last seven years.
“So that makes it okay?” Evan screamed so close to Frankie’s face that spit and tears sprayed her just above the eye. They stilled their arms, chest heaving as they glared down at her.
Finally, they were getting somewhere. Now that the tug of war had stopped, perhaps Evan would listen to—
“Ugh!” Frankie groaned as Evan’s knee came in sharply against her ribs.
And then their whole body was over hers, pressing down on her, nowhere near as heavy as the last person who’d tried, but that didn’t matter.
Panic filled Frankie, and before she could stop, she was throwing Evan onto the floor and straddling them.
For several long heartbeats, they stared each other down in the semi-darkness. Blood trickled from a cut on Evan’s lip, and their cheeks were so flushed that their glasses had fogged slightly.
“Murderer,” Evan spat out, blood and spit oozing down their chin.
“ Survivor .”
“Caleb was killed during an arrest. You shot him at point-blank range.”
Evan’s knife came up swinging toward her face, but before she could duck out of the way, the blade’s tip sliced into her cheek.
Frankie hissed, the fresh wound stinging, but she didn’t retaliate.
Hurting Evan further was the last thing she wanted.
As she restrained Evan’s wrists in her hands once more, a thought occurred to her.
I have to let go .
Let go of Evan’s wrists, let go of her solid stance straddling their thighs, let go of her power and her pride. She owed Evan that much and more. Evan was a good person. She had to believe that.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, Frankie loosened her grip.
The second Evan realized her apparent slip-up, they grabbed her arms instead and shoved her backwards.
Frankie fought the urge to shield herself and disarm Evan, crashing back-first onto her hardwood floor.
Evan was on her in an instant, their compact body grappling hers in a surprisingly firm hold.
Frankie’s breath caught in her throat, and she had to rein in her panic.
Once again, someone was on top of her with a weapon inches from her throat.
Tears sprang forth, and Frankie blinked, letting them fall.
The warm fluid trickled down her cheeks, stinging her wound further as the salt mixed with her blood.
“Your brother had me on my back just like this.” Frankie panted, losing herself in Evan’s feral eyes.
“You’re lying. Just like every other pig out there.” Tears wet Evan’s cheeks as well, slipping off their chin to splash in Frankie’s hair.
“I’m not. I would never lie to my little thief.” Frankie gasped as the tip of the blade pressed into her throat.
“There was no arrest, okay? I lied in my statement. Caleb caught me by surprise. There was a-a struggle. He stabbed me with a blade just like yours, Evan. I couldn’t see anything but him, and then he had his hand over my mouth and nose, I—” Frankie quaked, unable to stop the sob that escaped.
“Why are you lying ?” Evan screamed.
“I would never lie to you. I respect you too much. I love you too much to lie.” The words flew past her lips, but she’d be damned if she went back on them now.
Because it was the truth . Despite the short time they’d known each other, Frankie had been steadily falling in love with Evan, a surefire feeling that hadn’t diminished once she’d learned the truth about them.
“I clawed at the pavement, blindly searching for my firearm. If … if I hadn’t found it in time and pulled that trigger, I wouldn’t be here with you, baby.”
“Caleb would never have attacked you unprovoked. He was good. He protected me from Cecil!” Evan shook their head wildly, and with each jerk, the blade’s flat side slid against Frankie’s throat.
“Examine the scar for yourself, see that I’m speaking the truth. It’s on my chest, a quarter of an inch from my heart.”
“Don’t fucking move,” Evan warned between sobs of their own. The knife shook in their hand as they trailed it down Frankie’s throat to the buttons on her pajama top. With each slice through the buttons, shadows danced around the edges of Frankie’s eyes. Her vision dimmed.
“I need you to get off me now,” she growled. Her fingers ached to grab Evan, to disarm Evan, to flip Evan around and put them in a sleeper hold. Violence and desperation clawed at her until she was groaning, but for Evan, she held still.
“Caleb … stabbed you.” Evan’s wet lashes fluttered as their tortured gaze met hers.
The knife clattered noisily to the floor, each bang sounding like percussion cymbals in the still room.
Evan’s shaking hand flew to their mouth, and when they spoke, grief and disbelief strangled their words.
“It was self-defense. Why? Why would he do that? Try t-to kill you? Why, Frankie? Why?”
Frankie’s panic subsided, and she reached a tentative hand toward Evan.
Before she’d made contact, Evan collapsed into her embrace, their chest heaving as broken sobs erupted from their small frame.
“I’m sorry, baby. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Frankie whispered, both arms wrapping Evan in a secure, comforting hold.
She cradled Evan’s head to her chest, still lying under them on the floor.
For once, she let her old insecurities wash away.
For now, she was right where she needed to be, acting as both a pillow and a shield for her little thief.
“Will you tell me more? I-I need to understand.”
Frankie paused mid stroke down Evan’s back.
She let her fingers trace their shoulder blade, closing the gap to place a sweet kiss on Evan’s forehead.
While she didn’t want to cause Evan further pain, she understood the desire for closure.
Years ago, long before Caleb, long before becoming a police officer, Frankie had been a heartbroken teenager grappling with her own loss.
She’d learned the hard way that some things couldn’t achieve closure.
Still, if it meant that Evan could see her as more than a villain, she would be happy to share the story.
She resumed the light caress along Evan’s back, speaking softly.
“It was a Friday, one stifling hot summer night. My partner and I were driving around in the patrol car, cooling down with the AC after chasing some thug through the park. I’d had bad sushi or something that day, and the effects were starting to kick in, making me sick.
When we got a call from dispatch around midnight about a possible domestic dispute in the area, Sean had to rescue me from a washroom in a nearby 7-11.
When … when we went to check out the call, the front door was broken open and the couple inside were dead.
We swept the house, me on the first floor and Sean on the second.
I was in the bathroom when I got sick again, only to find a small figure jumping out the window.
I hollered at Sean but didn’t wait, instead chasing the suspect on foot.
I”—Frankie closed her eyes, images of that night returning—“should have waited for Sean, but wasn’t thinking clearly.
The suspect had just turned a corner when someone body checked me from behind, about two blocks away from the house.
I-I was so focused on the suspect, and depleted from being sick, that the idea of anyone else being in the house hadn’t occurred to me. ”
“It was me.” Evan glanced at her with a pair of seemingly haunted eyes, their throat bobbing up and down as words came with great difficulty.
“What do you mean, baby? You didn’t knock me to the ground and stab me.”
“No. It was me you were chasing.” Fresh tears fell past Evan’s long lashes.
Frankie’s eyes widened, digesting Evan’s confession. A small figure escaping through the window, dressed all in black and disguised beneath a hoodie. Reaching up slowly, Frankie used the pads of her thumbs to wipe away Evan’s tears. “Caleb was protecting you.”
Evan nodded, their eyes drifting closed from the contact.
“He was always protecting me. And I was always getting into trouble. That night was my fault, everything. I shouldn’t have gone in there, shouldn’t have left the party, I …
When I saw those people, I-I froze. I couldn’t just … leave them there, a-all alone.”
“So you called it in and waited for us. But why lie and say it was a domestic dispute?”
“I didn’t want any evidence that I broke in.”
Frankie was confused. “But the door was broken, which was a clear indication of possible foul play.”
Evan shrugged, sniffling. “I didn’t know about that. I came in through an open window.”
“Oh, Evan.” Frankie tightened her hold, brushing her lips on their soft skin once more.
Emotion choked her, and as she pecked gentle kisses, she fought back her own tears.
Even then, when they were just a teenager, Evan was a good person.
They’d stayed behind at the risk of getting caught themself.
“I’m sorry this happened. I wish I could change the past, believe me. ”
“Me too.”