Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
ARCHIE
T hey came in like they were already halfway broken.
Frankie walked between Bubba and Coop, and none of them spoke.
She looked like she was trying not to shrink under the weight of all their silence, which was almost funny considering she was the center of everything right now.
Usually, Frankie moved with this confidence—head up, smart mouth ready.
But today, she looked… wrong. Off. Like she knew the wolves were circling and didn’t quite know where to run.
I caught the mark on her neck the second she stepped near the table. So did Bubba, though he didn’t say a word. His eyes just hardened and slid away.
Coop tried to play normal, but his shoulders were stiff. How his hand twitched like he wanted to reach for her and didn’t.
And then there was Jake.
He sat on the edge of the table with the boxes of donuts at his side, but there was nothing warm in him. No smile, no smug little nod. Just flat, controlled nothingness. Which, for Jake? Might as well be rage.
Frankie saw him and stopped cold. Her expression wavered—just for a second—but enough that I felt it in my gut.
He didn’t say a word to her.
Didn’t offer a donut. Didn’t crack open the box with the fritters. Didn’t even look up.
She said his name, soft and unsure. He still didn’t speak.
Then she did something I didn’t expect.
She just… walked away. She didn’t ask anyone to follow her. She didn’t even look back.
I watched her go, and something about it made me furious.
She hadn’t done this alone. Whatever mess she was in, they were in it too. And yet they all stood there, acting like she’d blown up the house while they just watched from the sidewalk.
Coop sighed and dropped into a chair. Bubba grabbed a donut without asking. Jake stared straight ahead like he was alone in the damn room.
“So,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. “We gonna pretend this is normal?”
No one answered.
Jake took a long drink from the coffee I knew wasn’t his usual order. He was off, too. Everyone was.
“What happened?” I asked, leveling it at Jake.
He didn’t look at me.
“Jake.”
He blinked once. “Go to hell.”
The silence that followed that? Thick enough to chew.
“Excuse me?” I rose before I even decided to.
Jake finally met my eyes. His jaw ticked. “You heard me.”
It would’ve taken one more word. One more push. We were that close. Fists clenched, blood up, tension radiating off both of us. Coop moved like he might intervene, but I didn’t need him. I could handle Jake just fine. Hell, I wanted to.
But Bubba stepped in first, throwing himself between us. “Okay, no one’s fighting in front of the donuts,” he said without looking at either of us.
“You’re really not gonna tell me what happened?” I asked, still staring Jake down.
Jake turned his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
The hell it didn’t.
I stood there for a second longer, willing someone to give me a reason not to shove Jake into a locker and demand answers. But Coop said nothing. Bubba just ate his donut like it was all above his pay grade.
Fine.
They didn’t want to fix this? I would.
Because something had shifted. Frankie was out there alone, and whether they were mad, jealous, confused, or just plain stupid, they were letting her drown. And that made me mad.
She’d let her guard down. Told us she was finally open to something—dating, maybe more—and now they were treating her like she’d cheated on all of them at once.
I looked around the commons, where we used to sit and laugh and argue about nothing. Now it felt like a war room. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I already knew where the next bomb was coming from.
Frenchy.
Mathieu , whatever.
He was a problem. Too slick, too polished, too charming—and none of us knew a damn thing about him. I’d seen the way he watched Frankie when he thought no one else was paying attention. And I didn’t like it.
He was the only one who hadn’t grown up with us. He hadn’t been there for the late-night group chats or the trashy convenience store runs or helping Frankie fix her busted faucet because her mom forgot again. He didn’t know her. Not really.
But he wanted something. I could see it all over him.
And now, with the rest of the guys too wrapped up in their own hurt feelings, no one was paying attention to the fact that he was making moves in all the cracks she didn’t know she had.
So if no one else was going to look out for her?
I’d do it myself.
I’d figure out what Frenchy wanted.
And then I’d make sure he didn’t get it.
It started with me catching sight of her in the hallway, walking next to Coop. Frankie was nodding at something he’s saying, but she’s not really there. Her smile was on her face, sure—but her eyes? They were somewhere else. Distant. Quiet. Like someone turned the volume down on her.
I hated that look on her.
I didn’t mean to be the villain here. Not today anyway. But she walked next to Coop, looking all dimmed down and agreeable, and I couldn’t take it.
So I slid in beside them like the chaos I was, smirking just enough to irritate him and amuse her.
“Hey, Frankie,” I said casually. Then I turned to Coop without missing a beat. “Mind if I borrow your lunch date?”
Coop opened his mouth, ready to assert his moral territory or whatever, but I cut him off, all sunshine.
“Perfect. That’s a yes. Thanks, Coop.”
Just like that, I gently looped my arm around Frankie’s shoulder, steering her away from him and into the current of the hallway crowd. She half-laughed, resisting slightly but not pulling away.
“Archie—what are you doing?” she asked, but the smallest ghost of a smile twitched at her lips.
“I’m abducting you.” I grinned. “Classic lunch heist. You looked far too agreeable back there. It was disturbing.”
“You can’t just—” She glanced back at Coop, that reflexive politeness kicking in. “We had plans.”
“Cancel them. Or reschedule. Or send him a postcard.” I shrugged. “Frankie, come on—when’s the last time you blew something off?”
She hesitated. “...I don’t know. Never?”
“Exactly,” I said, walking backward toward the front doors like I had a spotlight on me and a theme song playing in my head. “I dare you to remember how to have fun. Just for one lunch break. What’s the worst that happens? You laugh? You smile like you mean it?”
That got her. I saw it in the flicker of her expression—something warm trying to push past the fog.
“Live dangerously,” I added, shooting her a wink. “Have fries.”
Outside, the sun was obnoxiously bright, which was exactly how I liked it. The Ferrari—orange and completely over-the-top—was parked in my usual spot, practically humming with ego. I walked over and popped the passenger door open with a theatrical bow.
“Madam,” I said. “Your carriage awaits.”
She stood there on the curb, arms crossed. “You know we still have class.”
“Sure. But we also have freedom, gasoline, and my impeccable playlist.” I shot her a look, lowering my voice slightly. “Let’s ditch. Just this once. Let’s go be stupid for an hour. Or two.”
She was quiet, and when I looked at her—really looked—I saw it again. That sadness. Big green eyes, too heavy with something I couldn’t name. Something old. Something she’s been carrying alone.
And I hated it. Hated that I couldn’t fix it. So I did what I do best.
I distracted.
Then she said, “Okay.”
It hit me like a left hook I didn’t see coming. “Wait—really?”
“Yeah.” She stepped toward the car. “Let’s go be stupid.”
I blinked, stunned for a beat. I wasn’t ready for that yes.
But I wasn’t wasting it. I waited for her to climb in then closed the door after her. After, I rushed around to the driver’s side, heart beating a little too fast. I slid in, fired up the engine, and the Ferrari growled like it was just as hungry to escape as we were.
We peeled out of the parking lot like two kids running from something we couldn’t name.
The hum of the engine settled into a low purr as we hit the open road. I snuck a glance at her. She leaned her head back against the seat, while she wound a bit of her hair absently around one finger. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d been since she let herself do nothing. Just breathe.
The silence stretched. Comfortable for a second. Then it turned weird.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to work out how the hell to talk to her. She wasn’t like other people. You couldn’t always poke and get a reaction. You had to wait, gently, like coaxing a stray animal to eat from your palm.
I cleared my throat. "Hey," I said, eyes still on the road. "What do you want to do?"
She turned her head slightly, brow creasing.
"I mean," I continued, a little faster, "what do you want to talk about? Where do you want to go? This is your detour, Frankie. You call it."
She stared out the window for a second longer, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth—like I’ve cracked something, just a little. Not a smile yet. But maybe. Just maybe.
My phone buzzed in the center console.
Edward.
I glanced at it. My gut clenched. I don’t answer. Not now. Not today. Answering would mean dealing with him , and worse, dealing with the thing he's doing—the thing with her . With Frankie’s mom.
I shoved that thought down hard and kept my eyes on the road.
“There's a little place out past the lake,” she said suddenly. “Kind of ridiculous. Bright chairs, milkshakes bigger than your head.”
I grinned. “Say less.”
She gave me a look. “It's sort of dumb.”
“Perfect,” I said. “We’re being dumb today. That’s the whole point.”
She hesitated. “I was supposed to review history notes before work.”
I shot her a quick side-eye. “Uh uh. Nope. From now until I drop you off to get ready, we’re on our time.”
“Our time?”
“No worries, no school, no guys, no Frenchy, no problems, nothing. Just us.”
She shifted slowly to look at me. One eyebrow arched.
“Just us,” she tested the words, skeptical. “And no problems?”
“Exactly,” I said, tapping the steering wheel like I’m sealing a deal. “Just us and no problems.”
For a beat, she studied me. And then— then —it happened. The smallest smile, barely there. But it was real. Not polite. Not painted on. Real.
In that second, I swore, I’d drive us straight into the sun if it meant she’d keep smiling like that.