Chapter 21 #2
“So, if you decide to stay here, I’ll back that. If you want to leave, I’ll help you pack. If you want to disappear into the woods with three cats, I’ll bring snacks.”
That almost got a laugh. Almost.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I hesitated, then asked the question that mattered most. “Can I stay? Just… sit with you for a bit?”
She nodded. So I stayed. When I held out my hand, she looked at it for a long time, then set her palm against mine. Another eternity passed, then she leaned her head against my shoulder and I rested my cheek against her hair.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she said in a low voice. “That it’s all going to be okay.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I promised. “Come hell or high water, we will make it okay.” I couldn’t see her face, but I felt more than heard her sigh.
And I stayed. Not as the guy who’d always been a little in love with her. Not as the screw-up trying to make amends. Just as Coop. The kid who’d been there since the beginning. This time, I wasn’t going anywhere.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too loud. I just let her weight settle, my shoulder taking what it could so she didn’t have to. I swore I could feel the exhaustion rolling off of her.
For a while, we didn’t say anything at all, just sat there—being. Then there was a thump.
A light one. Like a small body launching itself with purpose.
I barely had time to register it before a warm, striped weight landed on the bed and marched across the comforter like she owned the place.
Tabby.
She walked right up to me, stared me straight in the face, and let out a single, judgmental meow.
“Hey,” I whispered, voice going stupidly soft. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”
Her tail flicked. She sniffed my sleeve, then my hand, then—like she’d decided I was acceptable—she headbutted my knuckles hard enough to make my fingers jolt.
Frankie’s lips twitched against my shoulder.
“Oh, you got the Tabby inspection,” she murmured.
“I feel honored,” I said under my breath. “Terrified. But honored.”
Another movement, quieter this time.
Tory padded over with that elegant, suspicious glide like she expected the world to disappoint her. She jumped up beside Tabby, glanced at me, and blinked slow. Not quite approval, but not a threat either.
Then Tiddles appeared like he’d been summoned by the concept of attention.
He hopped up on the bed with a soft grunt, yawned wide, and promptly shoved his head under my hand, all but shoving Tabby away.
Like: Pet me. Now.
I stared at him. “Dude.”
Tiddles purred louder.
“You always were his favorite,” Frankie said, and there was something in her voice—fond, tired, a little broken—that made my throat tighten.
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing behind Tiddles’ ears because he was relentless. “He’s got good taste.”
Tabby decided my other hand was also acceptable and settled against my thigh. That meant I had to let go of Frankie, but we were both petting Tabby now. Tory posted up near Frankie’s hip like a tiny sentry. Tiddles curled closer, purring like a chainsaw.
Frankie shifted just enough to sit up a little, eyes on them like she was taking inventory to make sure they were real.
“They’re okay,” she whispered more to herself than me.
“They’re okay,” I agreed. And then, because I meant it, I added, “And you’re okay too.”
Her gaze lifted to mine. There was so much in her eyes—anger still, fear still, exhaustion like a second skin—but also… something steadier now. Like the cats had anchored her back to the planet.
We sat like that for a few minutes, the five of us in a quiet, strange pile of comfort.
Then the door opened.
Rachel came back in first, carrying a mug. Jeremy followed behind her with a tray. The man just brought order wherever he went. Soothing order at that.
The smell hit me—chocolate and something warm and sweet—and my stomach actually growled. I hadn’t had time to eat.
Rachel gave me a look over the rim of the mug that said I am still evaluating you, but the fact she didn’t immediately kick me out counted as progress.
Jeremy’s eyes flicked to me, unbothered. “Mr. Cooper,” he said, as if we were in a normal universe. “Hot cocoa. It seemed appropriate.”
He set the tray down, then handed Frankie a mug with the kind of care you’d use on a live grenade. “For you, Miss Frankie.”
Then—without hesitation—he held the other mug out to me.
I blinked.
Rachel’s eyebrows lifted like she was surprised too.
I took it carefully. “Uh. Thanks.”
Jeremy inclined his head. “Of course.”
The cocoa was hot enough to fog the air above it, a little swirl of steam, and for a second it felt absurd—like life couldn’t possibly be this dramatic and this domestic at the same time.
Tabby immediately tried to sniff it.
“Absolutely not,” I warned her. She ignored me and leaned closer anyway.
Frankie took a careful sip, eyes closing for half a second like her body remembered how to accept comfort.
Rachel sat on the chair near the bed, watching Frankie with that fierce, protective focus that made me weirdly grateful she was here.
I cleared my throat. “I can—” I started, then tried again. “I can give you guys some time.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed, but I was too damn tired to try and interpret Manning’s thoughts at the moment. I could just take her at face value. She wasn’t stabbing me or spitting, so we were in a good place.
Frankie’s hand tightened around the mug. “No,” she said quickly.
Surprised, I looked at her.
Her gaze was on the cocoa, not my face, like saying it out loud had cost her something. “Don’t go.”
Something in my chest loosened and tightened at the same time.
“Okay,” I said, like it was simple. Like it didn’t matter. Like my whole heart hadn’t just shifted in my ribs. “I’ll stay.”
Frankie let out a small breath, almost relieved, and then she glanced toward the bathroom.
“I should shower,” she murmured. “I feel… gross.”
“You should,” Rachel said immediately, gentler than her face suggested. “I already got out the clean t-shirt and sleep shorts. I’m going to assume the bathroom’s stocked. Do you want me to go get you anything?”
“No,” she said, then looked at Rachel for a moment then at me again. “Don’t leave. Either of you?”
“I won’t,” I promised. You couldn’t get me to move with a tractor. If Frankie wanted me there, then here I would stay.
“We’ll be right here,” Rachel murmured as Frankie carried her hot cocoa toward the bathroom, pausing only long enough to scoop up her change of clothes.
She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. A beat later, the shower turned on—water rushing, steady, loud.
The room felt different without her in it. Still warm. Still safe. But… missing.
Tabby hopped down and started circling like she was patrolling. Tory moved closer to the bathroom door and sat facing it, guard-cat mode engaged. Tiddles sprawled right where Frankie had been sitting like he was claiming the lingering warmth.
Rachel watched all of it, then looked at me.
Really looked. There was no escaping the guarded assessment in those eyes. This was the moment where I either became useful or got murdered in my sleep.
“She’s been through hell,” Rachel said quietly.
“Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “I know.”
Rachel’s gaze flicked to where Tory stared at the door. “She’s trying to be tough,” she continued. “But she’s… hanging on by a thread.”
I swallowed. “She always does that. She thinks she has to.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened. “Now her mom has literally taken away her home.”
My grip tightened around the mug. “Maddy always did this thing where she… reorganized Frankie’s life while calling it help.”
At least twice I could remember when we were junior high, Frankie came home to find all the furniture replaced. Or all her old clothes tossed out and new ones in there. Didn’t matter that her favorite t-shirt was gone. Maddy wanted to be rid of it, so they were.
Hell, I’d gone dumpster diving with her to find it. Fortunately, we found it in the second one and it didn’t smell too bad and it washed up just fine.
Rachel let out a short, humorless breath. “That’s a kind way to put it.”
Silence stretched for a second.
I stared at the cocoa like it might offer wisdom. “I feel like I made it worse,” I admitted.
Rachel’s eyes sharpened. “How.”
Because Rachel Manning didn’t let you vague your way out of accountability.
I exhaled. “This summer. All of it. The stuff Sharon—posted. I could blame her, but she hardly held a gun to my head.” The word tasted like ash. “I didn’t think Frankie cared. Not like that. I told myself she wasn’t interested in anyone. It let me pretend it wasn’t betrayal.”
Rachel’s expression didn’t soften, but it shifted—more understanding, less condemnation.
“She has no idea,” Rachel said, simply stating a fact. “Even now, I don’t think she has any idea that all of you want her.”
My stomach dropped and I twisted to face her directly. “What?”
“She has no idea. I get that you guys are telling her you’re interested, but I don’t think it’s registering. She thinks she did something wrong, that you’re punishing her.” Rachel’s eyes held mine, steady.
Jesus. “Seriously?”
Rachel shrugged. “Look, I’m going on my own observations. Frankie doesn’t get social cues like flirting. She really doesn’t. So you can hint all you want, but she isn’t seeing it.”
“Then how the hell did Frenchy…”
“He kissed her,” Rachel said flatly and I swore my blood boiled.
“What?”
“He kissed her.” She almost smiled. “Said it was at a water park, they were on the lazy river, and having some argument or other, and when she laughed at him, he caught her tube, pulled her close and kissed her. Then asked her if they could have dinner.”
He just—kissed her. Saw what he wanted and went after it. I wasn’t sure whose ass I wanted to kick more. Mine or his. “So he just pawed her and that was that?”
Now she rolled her eyes. “Green isn’t your color, Coop. It’s Frankie’s, so knock that shit off.” Funnily enough, it came out more like advice than judgment. “What she needs right now is stability. People who stay and don’t make choices for her.”
I nodded, throat tight. “I’m trying.”
Rachel studied me for a long second, then her voice softened—just a notch. “I can see that.”
That shouldn’t have meant anything. It wasn’t a blessing. It wasn’t forgiveness. But coming from Rachel, it felt like permission to keep breathing.
I glanced toward the bathroom door again. The shower was still running. Frankie was in there, trying to wash today off her skin like it hadn’t seeped into her bones.
“She’s scared,” I said quietly.
Rachel’s eyes flicked to Tory posted like a sentinel. “Yeah,” she murmured. “So are we.”
I huffed a soft laugh that wasn’t really funny. “I hate that.”
Rachel leaned back in the chair, mug warming her hands. “Me too. But we can do something about it.”
I looked at her.
Rachel’s gaze sharpened, protective and determined. “We keep her world small tonight. Safe. We don’t let anyone in here who makes it worse. We make sure she eats, sleeps, breathes. And tomorrow, when she’s not running on adrenaline, we help her figure out what she wants.”
“I don’t know if I can stay in here with her…”
“If she wants you here, you stay in here. I’ll be here too. No kinky shit.” The bland delivery almost made me laugh. “So don’t get any ideas.”
I saluted, but my chest tightened with something that felt a lot like relief.
“Okay,” I said, and I meant it. “Yeah. Okay. Archie will back all of that.” I had no doubts. In fact, if I had the money to bet, I’d say Jake and Bubba were staying over too. So if it got too weird, I could go crash in the gameroom with them.
Rachel’s mouth twitched. “Also,” she added dryly, “if Maddy Curtis so much as looks at her wrong, I’m going to commit a felony.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Oh, you’re a little late to that party. I would bet the cats have already called dibs.”
Rachel’s eyes flicked to the cats, then back to me, and for the first time, her expression softened into something almost amused.
“Good,” she said. “We’ll make a team of it.”
The shower shut off. For a second, we both stilled and I had to imagine that like me, Rachel was listening to the towel rustling, a cabinet opening, the faint clink of something set on the counter.
Rachel rose immediately. “I’ll help her with clothes.”
I stood too, then paused, uncertain. “Should I—”
Rachel glanced at me. “Stay,” she said, like it was a command and reassurance at the same time. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”
“I won’t,” I said.
She nodded once and went to the bathroom door, knocking softly before slipping inside.
I stayed where I was, mug cooling in my hand, cats arranged like a protective perimeter, listening to the quiet murmur of Rachel’s voice through the door.
It hit me then, sitting in this ridiculous butterfly room with hot cocoa I hadn’t asked for—Frankie didn’t need grand gestures. She didn’t need me to fix her life. She needed me to be what I’d always been, before I let my guilt and fear make me stupid.
She needed me to be me, cradle to fucking grave and still there when she came back out.
“You got it, beautiful,” I promised her even if she couldn’t hear me. “You got me too.”