Give Me What You Will #2
His bum left knee had never fully recovered from being broken during one of his MMA fights, and on some days, he walked with a limp. Whenever Sam asked about it before, he dismissed him, telling him he was “fine”. Nothing’s changed. Sam bit back a curse, refusing to challenge him about it.
Sam pressed his hand to the back of Frankie’s head and cradled it, trying hard not to notice how Frankie relaxed into his touch. He hated how much he liked it—how sensitive he was to every little thing this man did, and how his heart raced despite knowing better.
Frankie leaned back to look at him, his dark brown eyes suspending him. “You look good, Sammy.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“I know,” Frankie said with a charming smirk.
“I never thought you’d leave Boston.”
“Me either,” Frankie retorted. “Funny thing is, I had to. ‘Cause apparently my best friend decided to go AWOL on me and stop replyin’ to my text messages. Hell, wouldn’t even bother to pick up his damned phone.”
“Yeah, sorry, man. Life’s been busy here.”
“Busy,” Frankie said flatly. “Busy? That’s all I get?”
Sam cleared his throat and stepped back, gauging the blood and seeing that it had already decreased enough to stop applying pressure.
“What do you want me to say…?” Sam heard himself say out loud and immediately sighed in frustration.
Frankie’s eyes flicked to his lips and back up. “I dunno. Maybe I’ve taken one too many blows to the fuckin’ head, but how ‘bout you start with, ‘I miss you too, you handsome son-of-a-bitch’.”
Sam averted his gaze, making busy work with a fresh strip of gauze and one more check of the wound.
His stomach tightened into coiled knots, thinking about the last time they saw each other and how he had ruined the best thing he had in his life.
But it took blowing up the best thing in his life to finally be free of it—of him.
To give Sam enough space to rebuild a life without Frankie in it.
“No stitches needed, that’s good,” Sam said in a clipped tone, instructing the other nurses to leave, knowing he could handle this without help.
Once the room was empty, Sam paused. The last time he was in an empty room with Frankie…
“Sammy,” Frankie drawled, exasperated.
“We should get you a CT scan, make sure—”
“No.”
“Okay… well, if you experience a headache later—”
“I know the drill, doc,” Frankie snapped. “You don’t gotta tell me what to do with a head injury.”
Sam nodded, glancing at the door to the ED. “I’ll have Steph, our discharge nurse, come in and…”
“You gonna fuckin’ look at me at any point today?”
Sam stilled. “I prefer not to.”
“And why the hell not?” Frankie growled.
“I think you know why.”
He snorted, “No, man, I don’t. What happened is water under the bridge. Papi died. You were upset—I was upset. I get it.”
Sam jerked his gaze to his, seeing the steel glint of denial to go back to that moment that ruined their friendship forever. Because it did, whether Frankie wanted to acknowledge it or not.
“So, that’s how you rationalized it?” Sam challenged, feeling an icy chill sweep through his bloodstream.
“We’ve been best friends nearly fifteen fuckin’ years, Sammy. We’re gonna fuck up now and again. We all make mistakes.”
“Mistakes…” Sam drawled the word, rolling it on his tongue and deciding that was not the word he would’ve used for what happened.
“Yeah.”
“So, me slipping my tongue down your throat was a mistake?” Sam whispered.
Frankie's eyes sharpened, and then, impossibly, his lips tilted upward in a soft, insolent smirk. “You didn’t get that far.”
Sam stared, stunned, opening his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“Honestly, Sammy, eight months over that—? Really? You’ve done far worse to me over the years.
” Frankie continued to smile up at him from the gurney, folding his hands over his chest and looking completely unfazed by this conversation.
“And I mean, it was inevitable. My best friend is gay, I’m incredibly fuckin’ sexy.
It’s bound to happen. You finally couldn’t fuckin’ resist me. ”
Sam’s cheeks flushed, and he attempted to cover it by pinching the brim of his nose. “Christ, your ego is the size of Mount Everest.”
Frankie cocked his chin to the side, grinning, “That’s why you love me.”
Yeah, he did love him. That was the problem.
“We’re family, Sammy.”
They weren’t family. Hell, Sam wasn’t even from Boston like Frankie was. They met at Frankie’s dad’s bar, and like a moth to a flame, Sam was captured by Frankie’s easy charm and sexy smile, and the intensity behind his gaze that felt inescapable.
Because that’s who he was.
Irresistible. And apparently, Frankie actually was inescapable.
The distance Sam put between them felt right, necessary even, and the only damned way he could move on.
Because Frankie was as straight as they came.
The epitome of a ladies' man. Sam had watched the conga line of girls cling around Frankie’s neck for the past fifteen years.
And he’d had enough. It took losing Pappi for him to finally choose himself for once.
“Look,” Frankie pressed, eyebrows lifting high. “I didn’t fly all this way to sit in the damned hospital lobby. Let me buy you a beer—some food. Let’s catch up.”
One evening in Frankie’s company wouldn’t kill him, and then he’d fly back home and Sam could maybe go another eight months, maybe even a year, without having to see him again.
“Fine,” Sam muttered.
“Don’t look so enthusiastic, Sammy. I might take it personally.”
He shot him a hard look. “You’re lucky you didn’t need stitches. I would’ve enjoyed sticking a needle into that thick fuckin’ skull of yours.”
“There he is,” Frankie crooned victoriously. “Good. So, what time you pickin’ me up and where we goin’?”
Sam chuckled, feeling the weight on his shoulders shift a little. Frankie was a determined bulldog and wouldn't let this go. And he couldn’t blame him. Sam had left abruptly, without a word, and deep down, he knew that it was wrong. Frankie deserved more than that.
He could handle a couple of hours with Frankie, because the truth was, he missed the hell outta him, too. And when the night was over, he’d say goodbye for good. Because once Sam had moved to LA and away from Frankie, he realized something.
He couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.
That kiss—that stolen kiss—changed everything for him.
Sam no longer had any interest in being just friends with his best friend.
He couldn’t. Not when he knew what his lips tasted like after all these damned years.
He wasted so much of his life pining for what could never be.
It was time to move the fuck on, because he couldn’t go backward, and he wouldn’t.
He had protected Frankie from the truth of his feelings for too long.
Maybe it was time to tell him the truth, and then he’d finally leave Sam alone for good.
And if words weren’t enough to convince Frankie that this was for the best, then…
I’ll kiss his ass again and force him to let me go.
Coming Fall 2026
Book Tropes:
Best Friends
Bi-Awakening
Dirty Talk
Fight to Fuck
Possessiveness
They like it rough