Chapter Thirteen #3
She stared at him there, sleeping soundly in an upright position on her couch. Poor guy was working overtime just to keep her safe. She knew it was his job, but it still felt like he was going a little above and beyond.
She knew that wasn’t about her personally, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have gratitude. Surely not every police officer who would have been assigned to this job would be quite so…kind about it.
She should probably wake him up, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it when he seemed so deep in it. She’d just…let him sleep.
Selfish, Franny.
Maybe, but it made her feel better knowing he was there.
So she got some blankets, a pillow, and wrote a little note. Then she turned off the TV and left him there sleeping and went to bed herself.
With the cookies, of course.
ROYAL WOKE IN the dark, a sharp pain his neck, and a bunch of old, ugly memories prickling at the edges of his brain.
Had he really told Franny all that about himself? What the hell had possessed him?
Well, that was easy if uncomfortable. Sympathetic green eyes and that careful way she held herself.
It reminded him of someone who’d been beaten—always waiting for the next blow.
He didn’t think that was her issue. She probably would have mentioned it and not called her “health issues” trauma-lite.
But there was something there. A vulnerability she wasn’t any good at shoring up.
He should not like her for that alone. You had to be tough to get through life, and she was just…soft.
And sweet.
He blew out a breath, stretching his neck to one side and then the other, before doing a full neck roll.
He didn’t have a clue how his life had twisted and turned to wind up here. It felt even more unimaginable when he said things like born into the Sons and she said things like engineer dad and math teacher mom.
Upper middle class for God’s sake.
They didn’t have a thing in common, and yet he found her endlessly fascinating.
She was just…unique, and there was something about her curiosity, her bravery in the face of all this that life had in no way prepared her for, and the open vulnerability that drew those protective instincts he’d honed somewhere along the way.
You either wanted to protect or you wanted to be the monster. Those were the only two options in the life he’d been born into. He didn’t consider himself that great of a guy, but he’d never had any interest in being the monster. He supposed that was the only thing that had led him here.
That and Brooke. He’d learned to forgive his sister—and it wasn’t as though she’d done anything to him that she needed his forgiveness for.
It was just he’d gotten through his adolescence and some of his young adulthood by blaming her, by thinking she’d had it better somehow. The grudge had been a crutch.
And it had taken some work to get over it, just like it had taken some work to accept all the people ready and willing to help him build a real life outside of everything that had happened to him and everything he’d done.
He knew those people were willing because of Brooke, but getting to know his sister as an adult these past two years had made him fully understand why anyone and everyone rallied around Brooke.
She was a good, kind person. It was at the very core of who she was. No time in the Sons or in a crappy foster home had dulled that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had it to be dulled.
Franny had it. It was the only explanation for him telling her about the Sons.
He’d seen the questions building up inside her, but she hadn’t voiced a one. She would, he thought. In the next few days, she wouldn’t be able to resist. He could have offered more, explained it deeper.
He’d wanted her to see only the surface of it. A stop sign.
Because it felt a bit like they were on a strange precipice. Neither quite sure what to do with each other. Both a little too…attracted.
Polar opposites. Maybe it made sense. Not that he should let it make sense. He should be erecting very clear boundaries to a very complicated and odd situation.
Instead, he had…fallen asleep on her couch. The lights were out but the glow from the microwave clock allowed him to make out the shadows of furniture. He could smell cookies, but the scent was faint.
Hell, how long had he been out? He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Four. He’d slept for like…at least six hours. He shook his head and clicked on the phone flashlight. On the coffee table in front of him were a stack of blankets and a pillow with a little piece of paper on top.
He picked up the note, read it in the light of his phone.
Royal,
I thought it best to let you sleep. Text me when you need to leave, and I’ll get up to set the security system. Otherwise, I set my alarm for six and I’ll wake you up so you can get to your shift. Feel free to use whatever you need. Bathroom is in the hall.
—Franny
Like he wouldn’t have known who’d written the note. Which made him smile, but not as much as the little PS at the end.
I’m sorry, but I ate all the cookies.
It was four in the morning. It’d be silly to wake her up now to set her security system. He might as well just try to get another hour or two of sleep on the couch.
He grabbed the pillow and tossed it behind him. He didn’t bother with the blanket. Even though he could hear the air-conditioning working, it was hot up here.
He lay back and stretched out. He was usually a little too big for a couch, but this was a good size. Cushy. The pillow smelled fresh and clean, kind of like her. He looked up at the dark ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? Getting in way too deep, that was for sure.
Which was just impetus to see this through. Get it done. Once Albennie Ward was found and it was certain Franny was out of danger, they’d go back to passing each other on the street or bumping into each other at the bakery every once in a while.
Things wouldn’t feel quite so…tenuous then. He was sure of it.
Almost.