23. Chapter 23 #2
Silence fell over Frankie’s bedroom, and Evan remained in her arms on the floor for a long time after the final word was spoken.
Frankie wasn’t sure how much time passed, only how often Evan dozed in and out of sleep on top of her.
The frame of their glasses pressed into her chest, and muffled, nasally breaths came and went through their swollen, cut lips.
They both could use some ice, as the slice on her cheek from Evan’s knife still stung.
Ice and disinfectant, not necessarily in that order.
The hardwood floor dug into her already stiffening back, and martial artist or not, Frankie anticipated a day of hobbling around if she didn’t soon get up. Evan stirred as she slowly pulled them both into a sitting position, rubbing their puffy eyes under the wireless glasses.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to move you to the bed,” Frankie said gently, watching as Evan’s gaze flitted around the room before settling on her. Exhaustion and wariness made their movements sluggish as they climbed off her.
“I fell asleep.”
“Yes.”
“On you. But you don’t like to be touched.” Evan stood up, still glancing around.
“It’s fine, Evan. If I didn’t want you to be on me, I wouldn’t have allowed it.
” After Frankie’s initial panic had subsided, holding Evan close to her body had felt unusually wonderful.
In the past, she’d gotten fairly close to McCoy during aftercare, but she’d never allowed her old sub to lie directly on her. In fact, no one else had since …
Nope. Nu-uh. Fuck off with that.
Frankie swallowed, her gaze landing on the deserted knife at the same time Evan’s seemed to.
For a tense moment, neither one moved, and then slowly, Frankie forced her legs to.
She left the knife where it lay, instead walking out of her bedroom to the kitchen.
She didn’t see the point in confiscating Evan’s weapon, not when they could try to kill her with something else in her apartment if they were hell-bent on doing so.
At least now she wouldn’t worry about one of her kitchen knives going missing.
“What happens now?”
Evan’s small voice splintered Frankie’s weathered heart, and she slowly retrieved an ice pack from the freezer.
Therein lay a throbbing, deep-seated ache in her chest for what she’d done seven years ago and again last night.
Why had she confessed to killing Caleb through a game of all things, instead of sitting Evan down and explaining things clearly?
She closed the freezer and grabbed a towel, clearing her throat as she headed back to where Evan was slumped on the sofa.
Sitting down beside them, she held the ice to Evan’s lip.
“Nothing, if you don’t want it to. But I meant what I said.
” Frankie met Evan’s eyes, her free hand reaching up to cup their bruised cheek. “I love you and want you with me.”
“I tried t-to … just like he did.” Fresh tears glistened just beyond Evan’s eyelashes, begging for release. Their jaw twitched and clenched beneath Frankie’s fingertips, and she knew they were trying hard not to cry.
“I suspected you would, little thief, but even after I stopped defending myself, I’m still here. You might hate me for what I’ve done, but you also care for me too.”
“Where do we go from here?” The column of Evan’s throat bobbed up and down as they swallowed, those stubborn tears falling at last. The ache in Frankie’s chest grew, guilt and heartache alike festering like a disease inside her.
Was it wrong of her to ask Evan to stay?
But she was selfish and lonely, and if Evan could get past what she’d done, then surely the two of them could surpass any relationship hurdles.
“You learn to trust me. Trust that I would never willingly hurt you emotionally. Trust that I still crave for your submission, for your body and heart to be mine, and mine alone. In turn, I will trust that you won’t try to kill me again.”
“You still want me after what I did?” Evan’s lip trembled, and when Frankie traced the temptation with her thumb, their lips parted.
“Yes, always. I want to care for you, Evan, to nurture your emotional needs. And then, when you’re ready, I also want to restrain you to your bed and fuck you with my strap-on.”
The faintest squeak left Evan upon hearing that. She watched with satisfaction as their cheeks pinkened. “I need to … Can I think it through? About you, a-and everything else?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Frankie gave them a small smile, getting to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Evan asked as she headed to the bathroom.
Frankie slowed, looking over her shoulder at them.
Evan looked so small, hunched down on her large sectional.
She wished a thousand times over that they’d never been put in a position to avenge Caleb.
Evan was built for playful mischief and creating masterful illustrations with gifted hands, not professional subterfuge and murder.
“I’m going to clean up, and then after, I’ll make some tea.” She was almost to the door of the bathroom when she heard Evan mutter.
“Still don’t like tea.”