Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
FRANKIE
Idug my fingers into the straps of my backpack like it was a lifeline. The apartment was silent now, empty but still… wrong. Every corner was stripped bare, every memory packed into boxes I couldn’t touch. Even the faint scent of the cats seemed to fade like a distant memory.
“Ready?” Archie asked, calm, too calm. I nodded, not trusting my voice. Not even sure what I was ready for, but I guess I had to be ready for something.
Jake didn’t move. His eyes were sharp, scanning the empty living room like he was cataloging what it had looked like before.
What it had been before someone—my mother—dismantled this part of my life piece by piece.
He didn’t ask if I was okay again. He didn’t even ask where we were going. He just… watched.
“Let’s go to my place,” Archie said, sliding past me and heading for the kitchen and the backdoor that I used far more than the front that opened to the courtyard. His voice was neutral, but the way Jake stiffened at the suggestion made my stomach churn.
“You’re serious?” Jake finally said, pacing in three sharp steps. Was he asking me or— “His place? You can’t just—what if this was, like, an emergency situation? We don’t even know why she’s moving yet. Who approved this? Why Archie?”
Archie didn’t even look at him, much less answer. He dug his phone out and started typing, thumbs moving fast. “I’m texting Jeremy. See if he knows anything.”
Jake’s jaw tightened, every line rigid. “Texting Jeremy? You’re… what, trying to cover your ass or figure out if she’s okay? Because last I checked, she’s—” His voice broke mid-sentence, clipped off by a huff of frustration. “She’s being moved without her consent. And somehow, that’s fine?”
“She’s also standing right here,” I reminded him in a rough voice and Jake gave a little jerk.
“It’s fine,” Archie said flatly, still focused on the phone. “For now. We get you out of this apartment. I don’t know these movers, but I do know their company.”
Jake’s laugh was bitter, low, and hollow. “Fine? That’s your line?” He stepped closer, but not too close, just enough that the air between them felt sharp. “You’re treating this like it’s logistics and not—her life. Her stuff. Her cats. And you’re okay with that?”
Apparently, we were still going to discuss me even if I was right here. I wanted to tell them to stop, to not fight in front of me, but my throat was dry, and the words stuck. I squeezed my backpack straps instead.
Archie finally looked up from his phone, a line of tension visible across his face. “Jake,” he said carefully, “I’m doing the best I can with what I know. Let me handle this. Right now, I want to take Frankie home because it’s safe there. Jeremy is there. I’m there.”
Jake’s hand shot up, finger twitching as if he wanted to grab something but didn’t.
“Safe? You think this is safe? She’s being—she’s being shipped off like a—like a package!
And you’re telling me that’s okay? You don’t even care that she’s—” His voice cracked, and for the first time, I saw the weight behind it, not just anger but raw, protective frustration.
I stepped between them without thinking. “Stop,” I said, voice higher than I wanted. “Both of you. Please.” My words wavered, fragile. “I… I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”
“We know,” Archie said, his dark eyes softening. “That’s why I want to take you home with me. And not just because that’s where they were taking your things.”
That was a whole other Rubicon to cross. Just not right now. “I don’t know that I can deal with that either.”
“You don’t have to,” Archie said, gentling his voice more. “I’ll drive you. We’ll figure out where the cats are, Jeremy’s already checking.”
Relief sliced through me on those words. I just needed to know the cats were okay, I could deal with everything else. “I can’t just leave my car here…”
Jake’s gaze flicked to mine, hard and unyielding, then dropped to the floor. “Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter but still sharp, “I’ll drive your car over. So you have it where you want it.”
I blinked at him. “But what about your car?”
“We can figure that out later,” he said, voice clipped, like there wasn’t room for argument.
My phone buzzed. I blinked at it like it had just sprung to life. A message from Mathieu.
Mathieu:
Are you okay? Can we talk? I feel like… things went wrong.
My fingers trembled over the screen. I didn’t know if I should answer. Part of me wanted to hide, to curl up in some quiet corner and pretend the last hour hadn’t happened. Part of me… wanted to answer. Wanted to hear something normal, something familiar.
Archie noticed my pause and moved to read over my shoulder.
Invasive. Bossy. “Text him back if you want,” he said softly, almost like permission.
“I’ll drive. We’ll get there, and you can…
talk to him if you need or want.” The last few words sounded like he had to grind them out, but he tried at least.
Jake didn’t move. He didn’t ask who and I guessed it wasn’t really a secret based on Archie’s reaction. His jaw was set like stone. His arms crossed. He didn’t say anything, but the tension radiating off him was almost painful. Almost.
I typed a reply with shaking fingers.
Me:
Yeah… we can talk. Later?
Mathieu:
Okay. I’ll wait.
Me:
Thanks. Lots going on but I’ll call you as soon as I can.
It was as much as I could promise right now.
Archie pocketed his phone. “You ready?”
I nodded again, letting him guide me out. Jake followed in silence, but the air between the two of them was still charged, taut with unspoken things. I could feel it, vibrating under my skin, pulling me in all directions at once.
After opening the passenger side door of his Ferrari, Archie snagged my backpack. I almost dragged it back because it was my lifeline at the moment. “It’s okay,” Archie said in a far gentler voice. “Just putting it on the floor for you.”
“Thanks.” That came out almost pathetic and I sucked in a deep breath of air. Once I was in the seat, Archie set the backpack down as promised. Then he brushed his knuckles against my cheek.
“Buckle up, babe. It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He spoke with such quiet authority that I believed him. He closed the door as I dragged the seatbelt over me. It took me a moment to realize that he was tossing Jake my keys.
When did he..
Oh when he took the backpack, probably, I just hadn’t noticed. The two were talking, but they were both still vibrating with tension and I rubbed a hand over my face. I didn’t want them to fight.
My phone buzzed again—another message from Mathieu—but I left it unread. For now, the world could wait. I needed a moment to just breathe. When Archie opened the driver’s side door and dropped into the seat, I jumped.
“You want food or coffee or anything on the way there?” The offer was so automatic. “We can get ice cream. Chocolate too. You like those.”
A half-smile kicked up one side of my mouth. “You always do that,” I said, my voice a lot huskier with all the tears I was fighting. “Always try to feed me or fix it.”
“Sometimes feeding you does fix it,” he commented, the tease hovering in his words an invitation. “I guarantee you Jeremy is probably fixing your favorites for you right now.”
“Then maybe we wait to get there, I don’t want to disappoint him.
” I closed my eyes, and leaned my head back against the seat.
Tired swarming me in drowning waves. When Archie settled his hand over mine, I curled my fingers into his.
He was this contained storm next to me, protective, angry, and so very close to boiling over.
The drive blurred past in a stretch of streetlights and quiet streets, the kind of silence that pressed in rather than soothed.
Archie drove with one hand on the wheel, the other loosely threaded through my fingers, steady and warm.
I focused on that—on the fact that he was here, that I wasn’t alone—even as my thoughts kept slipping sideways.
When we turned onto his street, I knew where we were before I fully processed it. The gates slid open smoothly, automatically, and the long curve of the drive unfolded ahead of us.
Archie didn’t stop at the circular drive.
Instead, he angled toward the garage.
A big one.
No—big didn’t even cover it. The garage doors rolled up as we approached, revealing a cavernous space lit clean and bright.
Cars lined one side in immaculate order, polished metal and sharp angles—sports cars, a sleek SUV, something vintage tucked farther back like it was being preserved rather than used.
I swallowed.
Behind us, Jake pulled into the circular drive, following like my car belonged here too. He parked, shut off the engine, and climbed out without hesitation.
Archie guided his car fully inside, easing into an open space near the middle. “We’ll make room for yours,” he said calmly, like this wasn’t even a question. “We’ll take care of it.”
Something in his voice—certain, proprietary—made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t have time to unpack.
The engine cut. Silence settled.
Jake appeared at the garage entrance a moment later, footsteps sharp against the concrete. He didn’t say anything, just took in the space, the cars, the fact that Archie had already parked like this was settled.
The tension didn’t spike.
It simmered.
I reached for my backpack automatically as I opened the door, but Jake was already there.
“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the strap before I could. His fingers brushed mine, brief and warm, before he lifted it over his shoulder like it was nothing.
“Jake—” I started, but he was already moving, already following Archie toward the inner door.
Archie glanced back once, eyes flicking from the backpack to Jake, then back to me. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be.
The door from the garage into the house opened before we reached it.
Jeremy stood there.