Chapter thirty
Willa
They didn’t sleep.
They barely made it through the door before hands were everywhere—fumbling with zippers and buttons, mouths crashing together like they hadn’t already had each other, like the need was still coiled too tight inside both of them.
The door slammed shut behind them, and it was like lighting a fuse.
Willa’s back hit the wall with a soft thud. Frankie pressed in close, one thigh slipping between hers, her hands already sliding under the hem of Willa’s hoodie.
“You wore this just to fucking ruin me, didn’t you?” Frankie muttered, her voice low and rough in her ear.
Willa laughed, breathless. “Maybe.”
Frankie kissed her hard for that—biting her lip, dragging hands down her waist, gripping her ass and lifting her just enough to make her gasp.
“You don’t get to tease me in the crowd like that and expect me to behave.” Frankie’s grip tightened. “You were watching me like you wanted me to fuck you right there on stage.”
“I did,” Willa whispered, legs locking tighter around her waist.
Frankie groaned and ground against her once—hard enough to make Willa moan—before setting her down. “Get on the bed. Now.”
Heat surged through her at the command. She went.
Frankie followed, slow and purposeful, peeling off her jacket as she walked. “On your back. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”
Willa obeyed, heart pounding, eyes wide. The air between them was electric—thick with want, with trust, with the kind of desperate hunger that didn’t scare her anymore.
Frankie straddled her hips, her gaze dragging over Willa’s body like she was cataloging every inch. She tugged Willa’s shirt up inch by inch, exposing skin to the cool air.
“God, I missed this. Missed you.”
“You had me earlier,” Willa teased, though her voice came out softer this time.
Frankie’s mouth brushed her jaw. “Not like this.”
She undressed her slowly, taking her time, kissing her way down Willa’s chest, biting at one nipple while rolling the other between her fingers until Willa cried out, arching into the touch.
“Such a good girl,” Frankie whispered. “Always so responsive for me.”
Her hand slid between Willa’s thighs, pressing against her through the thin fabric. She rubbed slow, deliberate circles that made Willa shudder.
“Yes,” Willa gasped, hips jerking. “God—yes, Frankie.”
“Then don’t move. Not until I say.”
She eased the panties down, kissed her way back up—tongue flicking, teeth grazing—until Willa was trembling beneath her.
“Please,” Willa begged, voice cracking. “Frankie—please, I need it.”
“Mmm. That’s better.”
Her tongue slid over Willa, slow and sure, and the sound that ripped from Willa’s throat was desperate. Frankie sucked her clit, changed pace, slid fingers inside and curled them just right until Willa was shaking, her eyes glassy, her breath coming in broken sobs.
And then Frankie pulled back, slick-mouthed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
“Not yet.”
Willa whimpered. “Anything. Just—don’t stop.”
Frankie kissed her deep, filthy, aching, before sliding up her body, tugging her thighs wider until she settled between them—skin to skin, wet and hot.
The shock of it made Willa gasp.
Frankie rocked against her, slow and deliberate, and the friction was so sharp, so perfect, that Willa’s nails clawed at her back.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please—don’t fucking stop.”
Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, as Frankie ground into her with steady, relentless rolls.
“I’m so close,” Willa whispered, her whole body shaking.
“Come with me,” Frankie urged, kissing her hard. “Right here. Just like this.”
The rhythm built between them—slick, hot, unstoppable—until Willa shattered. Pleasure tore through her, wild and consuming, and Frankie clung to her, grinding harder until she broke apart too.
They came together, tangled and gasping, clinging to each other like the world outside had ceased to exist.
Frankie let out a strangled moan, hips still grinding through the high, body trembling against her. Willa cried out beneath her, head tipping back, mouth open, thighs clenching tight around Frankie’s hips.
It was overwhelming.
It was everything.
They clung to each other, shaking and breathless, until the tremors passed.
Frankie slumped into her arms, skin flushed and damp, her breath stuttering softly against Willa’s collarbone.
“Holy fuck,” she mumbled. “You kill me. You actually kill me.”
Willa held her tighter, her chest still rising fast. “Best death ever.”
Frankie gave a weak laugh and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You ruin me,” she whispered. “Every fucking time.”
The quiet that followed wasn’t empty—it was soft, full. Just their breaths slowing, their hearts thudding in tandem.
“I don’t want you to go tomorrow,” Frankie whispered, so low it barely reached Willa’s ears.
“I know,” Willa murmured, pressing a kiss into her curls. “But I’ve got to go write a kickass article and cover story about this really hot rockstar.”
Frankie gave a broken little laugh and burrowed closer.
“I love you,” she said, voice muffled against Willa’s skin.
“I love you more,” Willa whispered back.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too,” Willa said, stroking her back. “So much.”
* * *
Hotel curb—6 a.m.
The Uber pulled up just as the sky began to shift—soft blue leaking into the horizon, the first golden edge of sunrise curling over the city.
The streetlights blinked out one by one, fading as morning took over.
The air was cool and quiet, save for the low rumble of the engine and the faint, tentative sound of birds beginning to sing.
It felt too calm for how her heart was breaking.
Willa stood beside her bag, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, fingers clenched tight around the strap like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her chest felt tight. Her eyes stung. Every breath tasted like metal.
She didn’t want to go.
She didn’t want to lose this—this fragile, sacred thing they had rebuilt with their hands and mouths and hearts wide open.
Frankie stood in front of her, in old sneakers, hoodie pulled up over her head, jaw clenched like she was trying not to say something she’d regret.
Her hair was still damp at the ends from their shower.
Her eyes were tired, red at the corners—but they were soft.
So, fucking soft. Like the sunrise was already reflecting off her somehow, catching in the gold flecks of her irises.
They hadn’t said much during the elevator ride down. They hadn’t needed to. Every moment since they’d crawled out of bed had been heavy with meaning—quiet, thick with all the things they couldn’t say, because if they did, neither of them would leave.
“I’ll text you when I land,” Willa said, her voice quiet—steady only because she was trying so damn hard to keep it from breaking.
Frankie nodded, her mouth twitching like she was fighting a smile she didn’t have the strength to give. “You better.”
Her voice cracked just enough to give her away.
A beat passed. Just long enough to stretch and sting.
“I’ll miss you,” Willa added—and the words hit the space between them like a breath that didn’t quite make it to the lungs. Like it lingered there, suspended and aching.
Frankie didn’t answer. Not right away.
She just stepped forward—so close that Willa could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way Frankie always ran a little warmer than everyone else, like she was her own damn sun.
Frankie reached up and cupped Willa’s face with both hands—gentle, sacred—the pads of her thumbs brushing beneath Willa’s eyes, catching the tears before they could fall.
And then she kissed her.
Slow. Long. Deep.
Like she was pouring every word she didn’t know how to say into the space between their lips. Like she was trying to memorize the exact shape of Willa’s mouth, the exact way she tasted at sunrise.
Like she knew this had to last.
Willa leaned in, desperate to give her everything she had left to give. Her hands clutched Frankie’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie like she could anchor herself there.
Her heart pounded so loudly it nearly drowned out the world.
Her knees nearly gave out.
When Frankie finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against Willa’s for a beat—both of them breathing hard, eyes closed, trying to memorize.
“I love you,” Frankie whispered.
It was soft. Sure. No panic. No apology.
Just truth.
Willa blinked fast, the words hitting like warmth. Like light breaking through clouds.
“I love you too,” she said, her voice catching at the end, cracking wide open.
They kissed again—breathless and aching, just once more. Willa tried to drag it out. Tried to let it last long enough to carry her through the flight, through the days apart, through whatever came next.
But eventually, the driver cleared his throat from the car.
Reality broke through.
Willa pulled back, her hands lingering on Frankie’s sides for a second too long. She forced her feet to move. Forced her fingers to unclench. Forced herself not to look back when she slid into the seat.
Because if she did—if she let herself see Frankie standing there in the soft morning light—she might not leave at all.
Frankie stayed exactly where she was.
Hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie. Shoulders hunched against the wind. Her heart visible in her eyes, not even trying to hide.
She watched the car pull away like it was carrying something holy.
She watched until the taillights disappeared around the corner.
Then she turned back toward the hotel, her steps heavy, her chest hollow in a way she hadn’t expected.
But she didn’t feel alone.
Not really.
Because now she knew what it was to be loved back.
And that—
That was everything.
* * *