Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
FRANKIE
Iwoke up warm.
That was the first thing I noticed—warmth and weight and the unfamiliar comfort of not being alone when I surfaced from sleep. For one terrifying second, my body panicked, trying to remember where I was and what I’d lost.
Then I felt fur.
Tabby was tucked against my stomach, her back pressed into my ribs. Tory was draped across my thighs like she’d claimed the territory overnight. Tiddles was somewhere near my feet, judging by the solid weight pinning the blankets down.
And behind me—
Coop.
Curled on his side, one arm slung loosely around my waist like it had always belonged there. Rachel was on my other side, her back to mine, one leg thrown over the blanket like she’d fallen asleep mid-argument with the universe.
For a long moment, I just lay there and breathed.
Nothing hurt. Nothing was missing. No one was yelling. No movers. No boxes.
I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb anyone, and felt Coop’s arm tighten. Not possessive. Not pulling me closer. Just… there. Like his body had decided on its own that I mattered and was adjusting accordingly.
I tipped my head back just enough to look at him.
He was awake.
I could tell by the way his eyes were barely open, the way his breathing wasn’t quite even. He hadn’t moved all night. Still in his jeans. Still in his shirt. When he caught me looking, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
He smiled back—and then leaned in and pressed the lightest, quickest kiss to my lips. Barely there. Careful. Sweet.
Then he immediately pulled away.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Morning breath.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, the sound muffled by Tabby’s offended flick of a tail. Coop grinned, relief flashing across his face, and carefully disentangled himself without disturbing Rachel or the cats.
“I’m going to—” he gestured vaguely toward the bathroom, then winced. “Before I explode.”
“Good plan,” I whispered.
He slipped out of the bed like he’d practiced it, easing the door shut behind him.
Rachel stirred.
Her eyes cracked open, immediately alert, and then softened when she saw me watching her.
“Oh good,” she said quietly. “You’re still here.”
I snorted. “Hush.”
She laughed anyway, the sound low and warm, and reached out to scratch Tory under the chin. “You okay?”
“Better,” I admitted. It felt strange to say it—but it was true. “Still… off. But better.”
Rachel nodded like she understood exactly what kind of better that was.
Coop came back a few minutes later, hair damp from splashing water on his face, cheeks faintly pink like he’d lost an argument with the mirror. He froze when he saw both of us watching him.
“What?” he asked warily.
Rachel snorted. “You look like you slept in jeans.”
“I did sleep in jeans,” he muttered.
“And yet,” I added mildly, “you slept like the dead.”
“How do you know?” His eyes narrowed.
“Cause you snore,” she answered with such a slow diabolical smile, I almost ruined it by laughing aloud. Coop, did not, in fact, snore. But Rachel’s playful remark landed.
“Uh huh.” Ears turning red, Coop ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Pretty sure that was the cats.”
Tabby flicked her tail like she’d been personally offended by that accusation.
Rachel stretched, then rolled off the bed with a decisive nod. “Okay. Shower order. Frankie first. You look like you’re still buffering.”
I opened my mouth to protest and then… didn’t. I showered the night before, but I hadn’t washed my hair. I hadn’t—I hadn’t done more than try to wash away the day. She was right. My brain felt like it had too many tabs open, all playing sound.
The bathroom filled with steam and the familiar hiss of water, and for ten blessed minutes, the world narrowed to heat and soap and the steady thrum of something predictable. I stayed under longer than I probably should have, letting yesterday slide off me in slow increments.
When I came back out, wrapped in a towel and blinking like a newborn, Coop was nowhere to be seen and Rachel was digging through my closet with unapologetic intent.
“I’m borrowing,” she announced.
“Help yourself.”
“I was.” The ease of her voice and in her smile, made me laugh.
She tossed me a soft shirt and a pair of leggings, then disappeared into the bathroom herself. I was halfway into pulling on the shirt when the door from the hall opened and Coop stepped in—shirtless and hair damp.
I froze.
He froze.
We stared at each other for exactly one heartbeat too long.
Then Jeremy appeared like he’d been summoned by the universe’s sense of timing. I used his distraction to yank my shirt the rest of the way down. Thankfully, I already had my bra and panties on. Wiggling into the leggings wouldn’t take long, but I was already retreating for my closet.
“Good morning, Miss Frankie,” he said pleasantly, handing Coop a neatly folded stack of clothes. “Fresh for you, Mr. Cooper. I took the liberty.”
Coop looked down at the clothes. Then up at Jeremy. Then back at the clothes.
“…Thank you, sir.”
Jeremy nodded, utterly unbothered, then turned his attention to the bed where three cats sat watching the hallway like they were waiting for a starting gun.
“Breakfast?” Jeremy asked mildly.
The reaction was immediate.
Tabby launched herself off the bed like a missile. Tory followed at a dignified but urgent trot. Tiddles brought up the rear, yawning as he went, but still somehow moving faster than physics allowed.
They vanished down the hall after Jeremy like he’d been feeding them their entire lives.
Rachel reappeared in the doorway just in time to see the cat parade disappear.
She blinked. “Wow. Betrayed.”
I laughed—an actual laugh this time—and clapped a hand over my mouth like it might escape if I didn’t contain it.
Coop grinned at me, relief written all over his face. “I think Jeremy is a magician. We’re just never looking in the right direction.”
Rachel shook her head, smiling as she tugged on my borrowed t-shirt. “Okay, bathroom’s all yours again if you want it, but I’m dressed and emotionally fortified.”
I took my time deciding on flats rather than socks and sneakers.
It wasn’t suffocatingly hot outside, which was practically balmy for this time of year.
My stomach rumbled and I would kill for coffee, but I was reticent to abandon the safety I’d found in here.
The air still smelled faintly like soap and sleep and people who cared enough to stay.
I knew I was lingering.
I knew the day was waiting.
Eventually… we’d have to face it.
But not yet.
Not just yet.
Outside the door, muted voices drifted past—then hesitated a beat before they moved on.
Coop tilted his head toward me as he tugged his shirt on. Archie. Jake. Bubba. I’d known the other two guys had also stayed over, but hearing them this close was still oddly grounding. If a little weird.
Coop’s phone buzzed. Then mine. Then Rachel’s.
Then all three almost in unison.
I knew that rhythm now. It had become uncomfortably familiar over the last few days.
Coop grimaced at his screen, and I didn’t need to see it to know—something else had dropped.
I didn’t ask if I wanted to know. I didn’t.
But—
“Coop?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Do you need me to give someone a knuckle sandwich?”
It was the right question. Some of the tension slid off his face, a smile tugging at his mouth as his eyes warmed.
“I’ve got this,” he said, locking his phone and shoving it into his back pocket.
“Well,” I said lightly, “if you change your mind…”
He grinned wider. “You’re my first call.”
Then he held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s find food before your stomach gives us a knuckle sandwich.”
That got a real laugh out of me. I took his hand.
Rachel snorted as she brushed past us toward the door. “Smooth,” she muttered to Coop.
He just winked.
By the time we made it downstairs—me bundled into comfortable clothes and my hair still damp, and drying, Rachel flanking me like a bodyguard, Coop hovering just close enough without crowding—the energy had shifted again.
Archie was on his phone, posture rigid, jaw tight in a way that meant he was holding something back. Jake was pacing, scrolling furiously. Bubba stood near the breakfast bar, arms crossed, vibrating with barely contained fury.
Another photo dump.
Another wave of people deciding our lives were content. Well, their lives at least.
Archie hung up as I reached the bottom step.
“They’re being served today,” he said flatly. “My attorney’s already on it. Sharon. Her parents. Anyone involved.”
“Good,” Bubba growled.
Rachel slid closer to me, her hand finding my elbow. Coop did the same on my other side.
I wasn’t alone. Not even a little.
Jeremy had done his usual miracle—something warm, something normal—but the tension walked into the room a beat after we did.
Maddy and Edward—Eddie, yeah I couldn’t get used to either—glided in.
He was like a buoy of calm sat thick at the table.
Maddy was already there. Edward—Eddie—beside her, posture calm, observant.
Maddy wasted no time.
“This is exactly why you should quit your job,” she said, eyes sharp. “This chaos is too much. You don’t need to be anyone’s sitting target until this mess is cleaned up.” When she said mess she flicked a dismissive look over the guys.
I bristled. “Excuse me?” I’d just picked up a plate to fill and put it back down as I glared at her.
“We have to pull together as a family,” she continued, brushing past me like I hadn’t said anything. I had the most violent urge to just reach out and grab her hair and yank.
It was so visceral, I could almost see myself doing it. In fact, I had to curl my fingers into my palms to keep from acting on it.