Chapter Four
TURNER
Take me to your room.
Not exactly the reason I imagined saying that to Frankie this weekend.
But Jesus fucking Christ.
A stalker?
A fucking stalker?
I was going to lose my shit. In fact, I might have already done that.
That must be the reason why I didn’t recall a single detail from the moment we left the bar to the instant we exited the elevator.
Only that I trailed after Frankie like a stiff scarecrow, silent, not daring to move more than necessary.
Fighting for my goddamn life so I wouldn’t do something reckless like throwing her over my shoulder and take her far and away from this place.
A stalker.
How could one of the smartest, quickest, sassiest people I knew have such a hard time looking after her own safety?
It had always fucked with my head how unintentionally careless Frankie was.
Like this evening, for instance. She’d just sat at that bar with me and didn’t open the conversation with “by the way, I have a stalker.” She’d just trusted it would be fine not to mention it.
She’d trusted the situation, like she trusted people.
She handed them her trust and then waited for them to break it.
I should know.
I—
“Turner,” Frankie said. I zeroed in on her. We were at her door, and she was looking at me with uncertainty. Hazel eyes narrowed. Short dark hair framing a pout I’d been failing to keep my eyes off all evening. She looked so pretty with bangs, she— “Turner.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re gritting your teeth and you’re … staring really hard at me. You’re scaring me a little.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I gave myself a shake, willing the stiffness away. “Better?”
Her eyes swept up and down my body. “Barely. You’re reminding me of that time Troye Hargrove stole my juice pack at recess and you and Ric chased him home the next day.”
“I did the chasing.”
“Exactly. And Troye was scarred for life. Have you ever been chased by a much larger teenager than you for a whole mile?”
“Can’t say I have. But I couldn’t help being bigger than most kids around me. That punk could have helped messing with you, though. Hence the chasing.”
Frankie shook her head, curly locks of raven hair moving around her chin. Her hair really was so much shorter. I dreaded and loved that there were all these new things about her. “Will you promise me something?” She asked.
“Will you stop fumbling with the key card and open the door?”
“If you make me that promise.”
“I’d love to, but I’ll probably break it.”
She sighed. “That’s not very reassuring.”
“It isn’t,” I admitted, moving in the direction of the key. “But it’s also the truth. Because you’re going to ask me not to lose my shit the moment I step inside your room, and chances are, my shit’s somewhere downstairs.”
She pressed her lips, that stubborn line they formed making me stare at her mouth for a beat longer than necessary. “I was not going to ask you about that.”
“Great.” I dragged my gaze off her lips. “We can finally open that door, then.”
“Promise me you won’t make me leave the Inn. Or cancel on the convention.”
I arched my brows as only response. “I can’t make you do anything.”
“You won’t make this a bigger issue than it is, then?” She continued. “I can’t cancel on the convention. I can’t leave, all right? I already knew about the … stalker and still came here this weekend.”
I was going to blow a fuse.
I had so many questions. My eyes returned to the keycard in her hand. Would she be too mad if I snatched it off her? Should I ask for forgiveness, or permission?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” She pressed, tucking the fingers holding the key under her arm. “You’re back to scary, by the way.”
I was leaning towards asking for forgiveness. Although that involved wrestling that goddamn card off of her, and that’d be a shock to my already struggling system. What if I really did throw her over my shoulder?
“Hello? Stop glaring at the key and promise me you won’t make a big deal out of this. Please? I’ll beg or bribe you if I have to. Just … tell me what it’ll take for you not to blow this out of proportion. And stop being all quiet and scary.”
I dipped my head as I stepped closer to her, right until the tips of my boots touched hers. “I have every intention of making a big deal out of this.”
“But—”
My hand curled around her cheek before I could stop myself.
Frankie hitched a breath that had my heart immediately jumping.
“I’m sorry I’m scaring you because I’m being quiet instead of shouting about how furious I am at this person haunting you.
You want me to talk? All right. I’m three seconds away from barging through this door and inside this room.
I can do that on my own, or you can help me not leave a Turner-shaped hole I’ll have to explain later.
I’m good with either, as long as it keeps us moving and out of this hallway. ”
Frankie gaped at me.
Her lips were parted, and she looked like she wanted to kiss me, then punch me.
I’d take anything she’d be willing to give me, frankly.
“So?” I asked, “What is it going to be?”
She huffed out a breath, then turned around and swiped the key over the lock. “Fine.”
When the door opened with a click, I didn’t say thank you.
I wasn’t thankful.
This had taken a small eternity, and I was on a goddamn mission.
One that started by snaking an arm around her waist and lifting her up in the air just so I could place her safely at my back.
Not even Frankie’s distracting scent—also new, and a mix of berries—or the sound she made in her throat—a gasp, when she sucked in a shallow breath—stopped me.
“Stay behind me,” I barked.
“I’ve already been in the room,” she complained. “I doubt anyone’s here.”
I begged to differ. “Where’s the note and chocolates?”
“Dresser. At the end of the room, near the window.”
I stomped inside, my boots thumping against the carpet in a way that was intentional.
It was hopefully overkill, but if there was any chance of someone hiding in Frankie’s room, I wanted to let them know she had company.
I walked around the space and I turned on every light, opened every door, and left no corner unchecked or untouched.
Closet, bathroom, behind the drapes, even under the bed; all of it while Frankie watched quietly.
By the time I was done with my inspection and on my way to the items on the dresser, nothing new had been found.
No one was feeling any relief either. The search had felt like a crescendo that climaxed at the note and chocolates, and it was killing me to see how restless it made Frankie.
But if I touched her now. If I tried to give her the comfort I was dying to provide for her, I’d lose my focus. I’d already been on autopilot all day.
I picked up the items. The note was handwritten and unsigned. Just like she’d told me. The box contained four square-shaped bonbons. No brand. No seal. No nothing.
“You sure you didn’t eat anything?” I glanced back at her over my shoulder, and Christ, she looked so absolutely crestfallen, it was torture to remain in place and not go to her. “You can tell me if you did, you know that, right?”
“I’m not lying to you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I turned to fully face her. “I’m not asking that. But I know that if you still did lie to me, it would be to protect me. And you don’t need to do that.”
She rolled her eyes, halfheartedly. Her bravado had withered, and while I was glad to see that considering the circumstances, I didn’t like to see her upset. “To protect you from what exactly?” She asked.
“From myself. Because if you had touched or eaten one of these, and they’d been tampered with, I wouldn’t waste a second to search this whole damn place until I found the person that left them.
Then, I’d make sure they wished they never dared to harm you.
Even if that landed me in a cell right next to them. ”
Frankie’s expression flooded with surprise and … Shit. The kind of fire that had always made me believe I could move mountains. That reminded me that taking care of her was a privilege I’d taken for granted.
She swallowed before speaking. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I would anyway.”
A shallow breath left her. “I didn’t touch them. I swear. And it’s a he, by the way. The … stalker. It’s a man. I know from the—ah, messages and stuff he’s left.”
I saw red.
I swear, a dark burgundy curtain dropped down, blocking my field of vision.
“Turner, you promised.”
I hadn’t. “Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.”
“I would expect this from my brothers,” she said, too softly, like she was worn down from fighting me.
“But you’re not my sibling. Or my friend, now.
You don’t get to tell me when to leave places.
And where is this coming from, anyways? You never get worked up like this.
This is something Leo would do. Or Ric, on a bad day.
Not you. You never steamrolled over me; you listened. ”
She was right. She really was. But—“Someone’s stalking you.”
Frankie scoffed lightly. “I’m a writer, not the president of the United States of America.
Plus, how do you know I’m not imagining things?
You don’t know the whole story. I have an overactive imagination, so I could have jumped to the wrong conclusions.
The things he’s said have never been threatening.
All of this could be from a well-intentioned reader who wanted to surprise me and accidentally broke a few boundaries.
There’s nothing that indicates that some stalker has followed me to Vermont.
Nothing. So why aren’t you questioning that? ”
There was a loud moment of silence.
Then it boomed out of me, “Because your word is enough for me.”
Frankie blinked, looking stunned.
“You shouldn’t have to explain yourself,” I continued. “Not to me. If you say there’s a stalker, then there’s a goddamn stalker. Why would I not believe you?”