24. Chapter 24 #2
Evan was curious by nature, so when they noticed one of the two bedrooms was open, they couldn’t help but peer inside.
By the thong and push-up bra strewn on the messy floor, they could only assume it was Sloane’s room.
Coy didn’t strike them as a wearer of thongs.
It could be Sawyer’s . They stepped into the room, a bereft feeling crossing them as they scanned the well-used space.
Even as a child, Evan had never lived lived in their bedroom.
They’d never owned enough personal things to clutter a room.
Cecil had made sure of that, as he’d break whatever was in his path on the way to whoop Evan.
“What’s this?” Evan spotted an open notebook on the bedside table. Sloane didn’t seem like a journal keeper, but that didn’t stop Evan from swiping it up to inspect. What they discovered was shocking.
Instead of letters they would need to read repeatedly to understand, the notebook was some kind of ledger.
Columns drawn on each page, with numbers under at least three categories.
Evan didn’t pretend to know everything, but Cecil was involved in enough shady shit for them to recognize a wager logbook when they saw one.
“Fuck, Sloane.”
What had once started as small, harmless bets against Coy had somehow exploded into a different matter entirely. Sloane was gambling heavily by the looks of things, and Evan had a feeling they were the only one that knew.
Sloane drove like she was the star in a high-speed chase with ten cop cars on her ass and laughed crazily when Evan gripped their seatbelt tighter. Strapped across their chest, it was the only thing in Sloane’s Trans Am to utilize as a lifeline.
“How haven’t you got yourself arrested or killed yet?” they shouted over the blaring rock music. Evan’s stomach rolled as Sloane swerved to miss a pothole, coming way too close to an oncoming car in the opposite lane.
Sloane’s eyes were as feral as the grin she shot Evan, and she lowered her face to kiss the steering wheel before hollering back, “Sara hasn’t let me down yet. She’s my good luck charm.”
Evan’s brows shot up, unsure if Sloane’s affections for her car were endearing or concerning.
They didn’t have much time to think about it when she stopped abruptly for a red light.
Evan slammed into the seatbelt’s restraint, gagging hard as the toast Sloane gave them earlier threatened to come back up.
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“No way. Going fast is one of life’s greatest rushes, Ev. Right up there with—”
“Gambling?” Evan deadpanned without any thought.
Sloane whipped her head in Evan’s direction. “Come again?”
Evan blanked, pulling back slightly from their friend’s accusatory glare. They gestured to the stereo. “It’s hard to hear you.”
Sloane didn’t move to turn the music down, just gave Evan an odd look before turning back to the road.
A small sigh left them, relief making it possible to relax more in the seat.
Sloane didn’t speak to Evan again as they drove toward Vancouver’s downtown.
She just chugged her energy drink, bobbed her head to the music, and checked her phone half a dozen times. Reckless, that’s what Sloane was.
How am I just noticing?
“Dude, you need to lighten up,” Sloane said once she had parked and they were walking the two blocks to work. She laughed again, giving Evan a light thump on the shoulder. “You look like I just pushed you out of a fucking airplane. I wasn’t even going that fast.”
Seriously, she was going to resort to gaslighting now? Evan scoffed, not bothering to mention how she’d looked while driving. Like she’d done a line of coke in the bathroom before they’d left.
As Evan entered O’Rourke’s, it felt like entire days had passed, not hours, and the deep sigh of relief that escaped was the perfect de-stressor after their precarious drive.
Sloane disappeared toward the washrooms, and Evan took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the surroundings.
It was mid-afternoon, so it was no surprise that several of the booths were occupied.
The flat screens above the bar and in the corner of the pub had an MMA match on mute, while a much more relaxing genre of music played through the speakers.
Evan’s pulse tripped as their gaze fell to Frankie, who was just coming from the direction of her office.
Even from across the pub, Evan noticed the dark circles under her eyes and faint slouch in her shoulders.
Well, that, and the small bandage covering part of her cheek where Evan had cut her the night before.
Guilt hit them with such force that they swayed on their feet before latching onto the nearest chair for balance.
Grainy images of last night trickled through Evan’s mind.
The unabating need to avenge Caleb had completely taken over.
In a broken fit of rage, they’d attacked the very woman they’d spent weeks falling for.
That wasn’t Evan.
No matter how hardened Cecil tried to make them throughout the years, they were no murderer.
Not when the victim was Frankie, the same woman who made Evan’s toes curl with just a kiss.
She was the woman who looked at Evan like that , exactly as she was doing now, with her entire resting bitch face softening.
Subdued joy sparkled in her brown gaze as she watched Evan cross the room to her.
“You came back.”
Evan gave her a slight nod, taking the stool next to her at the bar.
Andy was busy making drinks, and Lian and another server walked past them a time or two, but Evan only noticed Frankie.
Their shoulders were touching, Frankie’s presence beside them comforting in a way they never understood before.
“I’m sorry, Frankie.”
Frankie shifted on the stool so that her knees brushed against Evan’s thighs. She reached for them tentatively, her palm heading for their cheek, but just before she would have touched them, she changed course and pulled them into a tight hug.
Frankie buried her face in Evan’s neck, uttering, “And I’m sorry, baby. More than you’ll ever know.”
Her arms felt like safety nets wrapped around Evan, and they sank into the sensation, inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo.
“How are you?” she asked after several moments. Pulling back slightly, Frankie’s gaze softened even more as she took Evan in. Her fingertips skimmed Evan’s hairline just under the neckline of their hoodie. “Did you manage to get any sleep last night?”
She didn’t kiss Evan, which Evan was grateful for.
They couldn’t guarantee their reaction in front of any onlookers and didn’t want to hurt Frankie by pulling away.
It was difficult to put into words how Evan felt, knowing what they did and feeling what they felt for Frankie.
Her involvement had always been a glaring possibility, but Evan had never considered what would happen if they tried for a relationship after all the dirty laundry had been aired.
How could Frankie ever trust them after what they’d done?
Moreover, could there ever come a time when they didn’t look at Frankie’s hands and envision Caleb’s blood coating them?
“Some,” Evan quietly replied. The deep-seated ache in their hollow chest lifted a little at Frankie’s small smile.
“Mm-hmm, good. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job because you’re sleepy.
” Frankie tilted her head, her fingers still tracing Evan’s skin.
She looked deeply reflective, as if she was trying to figure out how best to voice her question.
It was unlike her to be unsure about anything.
She was Frankie O’Rourke. Fierce and proud in nature.
Evan melted a little at the awkward display.
“Frankie?”
“What happens now, little thief? What do you want from me?”
“Holy shit, did Evan do that?”
Sloane’s overzealous voice snapped Frankie and Evan out of their private bubble. When they looked up, she was hovering across the bar counter, shock and awe on her face as she gawked at Frankie. “Self-defense class, right? Ev said you were teaching them, but damn, they got you good, boss.”
“Self-defense?” Frankie slowly echoed, glancing from Evan to Sloane and then back to Evan.
They tensed under her touch, and just as Evan was certain their earlier cover-up would be blown, realization dawned in Frankie’s expressive eyes.
She switched her attention to Sloane once more, a smooth reply slipping off her tongue.
“You’re welcome to come to the next class if you’ve warmed up to the idea. ”
Evan couldn’t hide their surprise, and they turned to Sloane as well. “You said you didn’t know where she disappeared to twice a week.”
“I think the better question is, when did you learn where I disappear twice a week?”
Evan realized their slip as Frankie’s eyebrow shot up, her pretty face inquisitive. Yup, so Evan would need to explain that story later. Maybe. They weren’t sure they were ready for everything they’d done to be revealed.
Rather than respond to Evan, a whoosh of air left Sloane, unknowingly saving Evan from an awkward explanation. She nodded to Frankie. “You know what? That might not be a bad idea.”
“Great, I’m sure we can rearrange the bar schedule a bit. Now, both of you, time for work.”
It wasn’t until Evan was pulling on their apron in the kitchen that they realized Frankie’s question had gone unanswered. What did Evan want from her now that revenge was out? Could they try for a genuine relationship?
The desire to submit to Frankie was still there, despite everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
And the desire to run away and never look back was there, too. Evan knew, without a fraction of a doubt, that if they stayed, it would only be a matter of time before Frankie claimed their entire body and soul.
But what about Cecil? No matter what they decided, at the very least, Evan owed Frankie a warning.