She thinks I feel sorry for her. She’s so far off and has no freaking idea. I feel so much when I look at her and none of it has anything to do with pity. Truth be known, it scares me to death.
That guy Ryan’s face suddenly flashes in my head and I go from seeing red to seeing green. He’s good looking, I’ll give him that, and he’s obviously into Fran, but then again who wouldn’t be?
I don’t even realize my teeth are clenched tight and when I glance down, I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel. Well, my left hand is. My right hand is enfolded in Fran’s as she stares out the window, the lights of the city passing by in a colorful blur. She seems lost in her thoughts, so every now and then I gently squeeze her hand to bring her back to me, a reminder that I’m here for her.
The emotional drain of the night has taken a toll not just on Fran, but on me as well, taking me back to Mom and Clara, replaying it in my mind as if I were stuck in the past, watching them die all over again.
Fran turns her head to look at me, a part of her face disguised in the shadows. “You okay?” she asks, and she must feel the tension rolling off of me, see the ticking of my jaw.
“Yeah, I’m just worried about you, honestly. It’s been a rough night.”
“Well, you made it better for me. I don’t think you realize just how much.” She whispers the last part, hearing Peyton and Caleb snoring lightly in the back seat. She glances back at them and smiles, continuing quietly, “I think they’re really cute together, even though I know it’s only temporary.”
Her words cut me deep and lure me back to reality, the one where she’s going back to New York soon, and I suddenly wonder what the hell I’m doing, what I’m allowing myself to feel knowing it won’t last. She has a life to get back to just as I do but it feels like we’re living a double life right now, one I’m not anxious to leave.
“Yeah, they are,” I admit, “and I think Caleb thinks so, too, although he probably won’t fess up to it.”
“All good things must come to an end, I suppose,” she states flatly, and her profiled expression changes as she stares blankly out the window. I squeeze her hand once again.
The rest of the ride is quiet. Caleb and Peyton are still snoring and Fran is dozing as well. When we arrive back at the hotel, I’m hit with the same wave of exhaustion that everyone else seems to be feeling. As much as I don’t want this night to end, I need some sleep.
It’s midnight, and the lobby is scarce, the only exception being the tanned, bottle-blonde behind the registration desk and an elderly couple walking to the elevator.
Fran stops and addresses Caleb and Peyton. “Listen, I just want to apologize again for ruining the night.”
“You didn’t ruin the night, Fran. Peyton and I still had fun while you were gone,” he teases, knocking Fran’s arm playfully. “Seriously, sweet-cakes, it’s fine. We’re just glad you’re okay.”
Caleb gives Fran a kiss on the cheek and Peyton hugs her, whispering something in her ear, and then they take off to do whatever it is they’re “temporarily” doing.
I latch onto her hand at the same time we hear a crashing noise. She immediately pulls away, running toward a frail, gray-haired woman who has fallen, her walker tipped over on its side. Fran bends down and clasps her elbow, helping her rise to a full stand before placing her fragile hands back on the arms of the walker that she places upright in front of her.
“Can I help you get to your room?” Fran asks, turning to what I assume is the husband, his eyes filled with both worry and gratitude.
“No, thank you, dear,” he replies in a shaky voice, “but thank you for noticing we needed help and not walking on by.”
Fran’s mouth pulls up in a smile as the old woman lifts a trembling hand to her cheek.
“Such a darling girl. Thank you,” she utters, her voice cracking, “you have a good heart.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Fran keeps her head on my shoulder the entire ride up to her room, her arm entwined with mine.
“Sleepy, sunshine?” I ask, basking in the smell of jasmine floating in the air.
“Hmmm…,” she replies, her eyelids fluttering closed, a dreamy smile on her lips.
We stop just outside of her door and she rests against it, sliding her hand down my arm and her fingers between my own.
“So I’m going to visit my mom tomorrow in Santa Barbara. She’s staying at a friend’s house,” she tells me through a wide yawn, “I’m leaving during the lunch break.”
“Oh? Do you want some company?” I ask, looking down at our hands and hoping she’ll say yes.
“Normally, I would, but I want to spend some time with her. We haven’t seen each other in a while and we have a lot to talk about, but…thank you.” Her slumberous eyes meet mine and a sweet smile curls her lips.
“Sure,” I reply, trying not to sound or look as disappointed as I feel. “Wait. How are you getting there?”
“I’m going to rent a car. It’s only a little over an hour from here,” she says casually, toying with my fingers.
“You can take my car,” I offer, surprising even myself with my spur of the moment decision.
“What? No. I couldn’t possibly take your baby,” she kids. “That’s your pride and joy.”
“Seriously, I want you to take it. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”
She narrows her gaze, her dark brows pulling in. “What’s happening to your tight-assedness?”
“Tight-assedness? I’m not sure Webster would approve of that word.” I chuckle, plucking at her hand. “You know, I wasn’t always a tight-ass,” I volunteer unexpectedly, feeling the need to explain, wanting her to understand.
“HA!” she barks out, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“It’s true.” The mood around us shifts suddenly and I pause to find the words. “When my mom died, I felt my whole world come crashing down, but Brad began to spin out of control and I had to watch out for him, and Clara, too. My dad was no help; he was too lost in his grief. So, I…I don’t know. I felt like the only way I could handle things was if I was sure they were in order, it was the only thing that gave me any sense of control over my life.”
She cups my cheek with her hand, sending an empathetic smile my way. “Matt, if anyone can understand that, it’s definitely me. I get it, you know. You do what you have to do to survive.”
Except I don’t want to just survive anymore.
“Well, I guess I should go so you can get some rest,” I say hesitantly, taking a step closer, her warm hand remaining on my cheek, and I circle her nose with my own.
Shy green eyes look back at me with a careful gaze as she bites her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did for me tonight.”
“Fran,” I reply, meeting that soft gleam in her eye, “I really didn’t do anything. You’re the one that bared yourself to me in such a brave way. You’re stronger than you realize…and you’re a survivor.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “We both are.”
I study her face, the wonder of it, of her, and the emotion overwhelms me. “But it’s time to do more than that now. It’s time to live.” My knuckle slides down her cheek and she blinks. “Do you know who showed me that?” She shakes her head, unaware of the effect she has on me. “You did.”
She lifts her chin, offering her mouth up to me and I don’t need to be asked twice.
I watch her lashes spill across her cheeks before our lips come together, starting out as a soft brush but turning into so much more. She parts for me, her tongue seeking out mine, flicking it back and forth, the feel like velvet stirring a groan to rip through my chest and hunger to take over. I’m trying to go slow, but the smell of vanilla mixed with the warmth of her mouth and the feel of her pressed up against me spurs me on until my hands are in her hair, angling her head so I can penetrate her mouth, taking as much as she’s willing to give. She whimpers when I suck on her tongue and the sweet sound travels to my cock, now straining against my jeans.