Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
COOP
B y Sunday afternoon, the place still smelled like chlorine, cheap rum, and a mistake we all watched happen in slow motion.
Or maybe that was just me. None of us had left.
The only difference from every other back to school party was the lack of Frankie being present.
She’d left with the new boyfriend, followed swiftly by Rachel.
As far as I knew, we hadn’t seen or heard from her since.
While Jake hadn’t left, he hadn’t really hung out with the rest of us. Not really. Not in the way he should’ve. He’d disappeared into one of the guest rooms after the party like a ghost who knew better than to haunt the rooms we were in, but not brave enough to leave the house.
I gave him space. Then I ran out of excuses.
“Talk,” I said around noon, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like that would hold the tension back. It didn’t.
Jake was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had personally wronged him. He didn’t look up.
“She slept with him,” he said flatly. Did he think if he said it enough it would change ?
“That’s not the bombshell you think it is.” Or it shouldn’t be. Still, I’d told myself I would listen. With that in mind, I focused on him.
“It’s not—” He finally looked at me. “It’s not just that she did. It’s that she didn’t tell us. Tell me . Not even after.”
I let out a slow breath, trying not to roll my eyes. “She didn’t owe any of us that, man.”
“We talked to her. We told her.” His jaw clenched. “We were friends.”
Maybe that was the problem, not that I said that aloud. “And now we’re all stuck in the wreckage of what you did with that friendship,” I snapped, then pinched the bridge of my nose.
He flinched. Just barely. But it was enough.
“I get it,” I said, softer now. “You were hurt. You were jealous. You didn’t know what to do with the feelings we’ve all had to deny because she didn’t seem to notice.” Holy shit did I get that. “So you exploded.”
“I didn’t mean to humiliate her.”
“But you did.” No matter how much I got it, I still wanted to slug him.
He didn’t say anything. Just pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes like he could scrub the memory away. Like he could pretend the look on Frankie’s face hadn’t leveled all of us.
I wanted to be madder.
God, I should have been madder.
But being pissed changed nothing . What we needed to do right now was repairing that damage and rebuilding that connection.
But as Sunday turned into evening, Jake dropped me back off at home.
Archie and Bubba stopped answering group texts.
Frankie wasn’t home—her car wasn’t there.
Her car and her mom’s cars were both missing.
Frankie was just gone .
No replies. No location tag. Just radio silence and the echo of that party still hanging in the corners of my head. She had every right to disappear for a day. I knew that. Hell, I respected it. But it still made my chest ache in a way that felt like punishment.
Because I hadn’t said anything, not when it counted. Not when Jake opened his mouth and let the lie-that-was-also-true fall out. I hadn’t stepped between them. I hadn’t made it stop.
That was almost worse than the fight itself.
By Monday morning, I was raw.
Not tired. Not angry.
Just done .
Backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending like this was just another school day, I leaned against the side of her car as I waited for her to come out. The profound gratitude that ripped through me when I saw the car there had damn near taken me out at the knees.
I hadn’t heard a word from Frankie since the party.
Not a text. Not a meme. Not even the usual angry reaction when I sent her that picture of a raccoon wearing Crocs.
Radio silence. Which would’ve been fine—normal even, for someone trying to reclaim her peace—but I knew her better than that.
Silence wasn’t Frankie’s style. Not with me.
That’s how I knew she was still hurting and maybe—just maybe—from me too.
When I heard the familiar jingle of her keys, I forced myself to not straighten up abruptly. Taking a deep breath, I waited for her to spot me. Her expression transformed, briefly, to one of surprise. Then her face evened out.
Calm. Collected. Guarded.
“Morning,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Hey,” she said. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t flip me off either. Small win.
“You mind giving me a ride?”
Frankie arched one brow. “We doing this?”
“I mean, it’s Monday,” I said with a half-shrug. “I still don’t have a car. So… if you wouldn’t mind.” Please don’t mind .
She stared at me for a second, like she was weighing her options. Maybe deciding how much she wanted to punch me versus how much she didn’t. Frankie had a pretty wicked right hook, but she had her backpack in that hand, so maybe I’d only get the left.
Finally, she exhaled and all the tension bled out of me. “Fine, but you owe me pizza or something.”
“Done.” Whatever you want . “Whenever. You name it. We’ll make it happen.”
I opened the driver’s side door on reflex after she unlocked the car. When I held out my hand for her backpack, she gave me a brief look before she handed it over. “Thanks.”
“Frankie?”
She stiffened and I nearly swore. But she braced a hand on the open door and met my gaze.
The green of her eyes really was downright stunning.
Frankie herself was a stunner, beautiful, long-legged even if she was shorter than the rest of us, lean, but fit and trim with a sweetheart face and a brain that didn’t quit—unless it came to us flirting.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out on a soft, slow exhale. “I’m really sorry.”
She dipped her chin and blinked twice before she tugged her sunglasses out. Thankfully, she didn’t slide them on and hide those eyes from me. “For what?”
“For not stopping it,” I said. “For not stepping in when Jake opened his mouth. For letting you walk back into that party alone.”
Her jaw tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t make him say it.”
“No,” I said. “But I didn’t stop him either.”
The silence stretched again.
“I kept thinking about the look on your face,” I said, voice lower now. “After. In the study. I’ve known you since we were five, and I’ve never seen you look like that.”
She still didn’t say anything.
“But I don’t want that to be the last thing you remember when you look at me,” I finished.
That got her.
She lifted her head then, enough to meet my gaze. The hurt was still there. So was the exhaustion. But the anger was gone.
I’d take it.
“We gonna stand here until graduation or are we going to school?” she asked, voice dry.
“Depends.” I huffed a laugh, shoulders easing for the first time since Saturday night. I circled the car to the passenger seat and put both backpacks in the back seat before I climbed in.
“On what?” she asked as she clipped her own seatbelt on and started the car.
“How much coffee have you had?”
The curve of her lips robbed me of breath, but there was the smile I adored. “Nowhere near enough.”
“Warning accepted. I’m texting Archie right now to make sure he gets yours—” Then before I could think on it too much, I added. “What does Frenc—what does Mat drink? I’ll make Archie get him one too.”
Her smile deepened and the air between us shifted as she backed out of her parking spot. “Mathieu is not a fan of American coffee.”
I gaped at her. “For real?”
“I know,” she said, sniffing once. “You should be grateful he isn’t perfect.”
We were far from a full repair for the damage that had been done, but the door was open and I was welcome again. Right now, that was more than enough.
“I’ll bow down and do a damn prayer.” Then because I could resist, I added, “I love American coffee.”
She laughed.
That was more than enough.