Chapter 16
Sam.
I tap my ear buds to answer the call when Frankie’s name shows on my screen.
“I fucked up,” he says before I get chance to greet him with a good morning.
“What the fuck, Frank. It’s not even seven. Are you even out of bed?” I ask as I slow the treadmill I was enjoying a run on. Wiping my face on my towel, I come to a stop and wait for his answer.
“I’m up. I went for a run and thought I’d call Mila to check in.”
“And?”
“I think I told her I love her.”
I grin, and then I laugh out a “What?”
“Don’t fucking laugh. Why’s it so fucking funny anyway?”
Stepping off the running machine, I head towards my bathroom. “It’s funny because I just can’t imagine you telling anyone you love them.”
“I tell my mum all the time. You’ve heard me on the phone to her. I’ve told you I love you before.” His voice rises with indignation.
“That’s different. I meant in a romantic sense. Anyway, you did tell her you love her, or you only think you told her?”
“I told her.”
“What she say?”
“Nothing. I said it and ended the call.”
“What prompted it? What made you tell her?”
“She was a mess.”
“When you told her? What do you mean, she got emotional?”
Jealousy slithers cold and unwelcome through me as I consider Mila telling him she loves him first. I’m not a jealous person, so although the emotion is foreign to me, I’m man enough to recognise it for what it is, and I don’t fucking like it.
“No, before I said it. She was almost hysterical.”
“Why?”
The jealousy is now joined by a knot of anxiety lodged somewhere between my chest and my gut, or possibly filling the entire fucking space.
“I don’t know what’s happened. She was having a meltdown about where this is all going, with her, with us. She’s scared, thinks we’re gonna get bored, move on…”
“What brought that on?” I ask as I turn on my shower, fighting the urge to hang up and call Mila myself.
“Mate, I wish I knew. She just went on a rant about us meeting someone new at the club and leaving her hanging. Then she burst into tears. No, not just tears, she was sobbing.”
“And you just told her you love her and hung up?”
“No, dickhead. I told her everything would be okay, that we’ve got her, then I told her to get showered, get dressed, and meet me where you usually pick her up so we could spend the day together. Then I told her I love her and hung up.”
“Do you?” I ask.
“Love her?”
“Yeah?”
“I think… I don’t know. I feel something—something I never have. Do you?”
“Yeah, same,” I admit.
“Do we need to have a conversation?”
“I don’t think we should do it without her. She needs to be a part of it.”
I wait for his response, but he’s silent for a long moment.
“Sam?”
“Still here.”
“I feel it more when we’re all together, if that makes sense?”
I pause, pulling my singlet over my head, shocked at how transparent Frankie’s being with his feelings.
“It does,” I tell him.
“Is it something… We’ve never talked about this shit, but going forward, is it something you’d consider? The three of us? Something… permanent?”
Turning on the shower, I stand out of reach of the water and consider his question. Not his question—that’s a lie. I stand totally naked and consider my answer.
“I’ve known the little witch a week and I’ve thought about nothing else.”
He snorts out a laugh, and I join him, my hand going to my jaw as I scratch at my whiskers.
“Fuck me,” Frankie groans. “We’re fucked.”
“Yeah.”
“I kinda like it, though.”
“Yeah,” I repeat.
“Want me to pick you up?”
“Give me thirty,” I tell him. “Where we taking her?”
“Anywhere she wants to go. Clothes shopping is the first place. That fucker dropped her off with nothing.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah,” he repeats my one-word response. “See ya when I’m looking at ya,” he says before ending the call.
I stare at where my phone sits on the edge of the sink, debating whether to call Mila. I want to. I really fucking want to, but if Frankie’s already got her twisted in knots with his confession, I don’t want her knowing he got straight on the phone to me to discuss her meltdown.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I lace them together and press them into the top of my head. My lips rattle together as I blow out a sigh.
“Fuck me. Mila, Mila, Mila, what the fuck have you done to us?” I ask no one before hooking my phone up to my sound system, finding a playlist, and like a lovesick tween, I blast “Chasing Cars” as I step into the shower.