Ever: The Ever Trilogy, Book One (Volume 1) (25 page)

With all the different emotions running rampant inside me, I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep any time soon. I sighed and turned back to my bed, only to jump at the sight of Frankie sitting on it.

“Shit! Frankie! What are you doing in here?”

“I think the question, Ever, is what were
you
doing?”

The characteristically playful tone of Frankie’s voice was gone, as was his familiar pet name for me. No
‘Hey, Dollface’
tonight. He looked at me, unflinching, and I grew uncomfortable under his accusatory stare.

“What? Nothing. None of your business, Frankie. Please, leave my room so I can change. You shouldn’t be in here anyway; my mom was
just
here.”

“I know. I waited ‘til she was down the hall. She’ll be asleep soon anyway. It’s
late
.” His glare intensified ever so slightly with that last word.

“Still, I’d like you to go. We can talk in the morning, Frankie.”

He chuckled as if I’d said something humorous.

“In the morning, huh? Nah. Right
now
works for me.”

I was shocked by his tone and the menace in his words. He’d never spoken to me that way before. In fact, I’d never heard Frankie speak to
anyone
that way. Least of all,
me
.

“You know that guy’s no good for you, Ever, but still you wait for him. Now he’s back and you’re all excited like an ignorant toddler waiting for Santa Claus. But Santa’s a myth, Ever, isn’t he? A
myth
. So what gives?”

I did
not
like being compared to a toddler, and I was especially angry that he had the audacity to call me
ignorant.
What was even worse was that Frankie was coming in here—to
my
bedroom—with more negativity toward Toby, when I had just
finally
gotten Toby back. Never mind that he may have had a point. I mean, yeah, I
had
pretty openly accepted Toby back into my life, very few questions asked. But that was
my
business. And I planned to talk to Toby about the past month. I
would
talk to him about it. Soon.

“That’s enough, Frankie. You have no right to tell me who to date, and I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me right now.” There. That sounded direct and strong, didn’t it?
No toddler tantrums here, thank you very much.
I was pacing the room but halted when Frankie jumped up from the bed and rushed me.

He stopped inches away from me. My heart raced. If he’d been human, I would have felt his breath hot on my face, smelled the cigarettes he carried with him at all times. His next words came out so angrily that I probably would have felt spit fly as well.

”Dammit, Ever! Wake up! You really are pathetic, you know it? That guy is bad news, Ever! Where’s he been for four weeks? Huh? Did he tell you that much? Did you even bother to
ask
, or did you just jump straight into bed with him?”

Excuse me?
Now
that
was going too far. What he implied … I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself before I spoke. My fists clenched and unclenched instinctively as anger flooded me. I took another deep breath. I didn’t want my mom to hear us and come back down the hall. How on Earth would I have explained this angry, confusing passion between Frankie and me?

“How
dare
you, Frankie?” My words were cool, calculated—so unlike the fire in my chest or the fever in my cheeks. “How dare you say something so … so
cruel
? If you think I just jump into bed with random guys, then you don’t know me
at all
. You have to leave now, Frankie.”

“Huh. So you
weren’t
just in bed with him?”

My mouth dropped open. I
had
been in bed with Toby, but … geez … not in the way Frankie implied. Not
quite
anyway.

What could I say, though? Frankie had clearly made up his mind about me.

For a few excruciating moments, we stood nose to nose, his head bent down toward me. His lips were just inches away from mine, his mouth a tight line. His anger I could handle, but his obvious disappointment in me was the worst part.

“You shouldn’t be with someone like him, Doll. He’s no good for you. You deserve”—his shoulders slumped, defeated—”You should be with someone like …”

As his words trailed off, he turned his back to me and headed to the door. His arm reached out for it, not because he could physically twist the knob and open it—he tended to just go
through
doors—but because every so often an old habit reappeared, an old habit like opening a door by hand or reaching out to touch me.

“With someone like who, Frankie? Someone like
you
?”

My voice was softer, my anger quickly fading as I sensed the pain in the words he didn’t speak out loud. I heard myself falter, my voice cracking just enough to show that my thoughts mirrored his. He was right. I
should
be with someone like him. Someone who cared about me no matter what. Someone who knew me, understood me. Someone who accepted my quirks, my insecurities. Someone who loved me beyond my faults.

Frankie. Frankie loves me like that. He has all along.

He slowly turned to face me again, the anger almost completely gone from his face. His eyes were sad, wistful, his voice a near-whisper. “Yes, Doll.
Someone. Like. Me
. Is that so hard to imagine?”

No. It isn’t hard to imagine at all.
He was beautiful and funny and kind and always knew what to say to make me smile. He was my best friend, my rock. And so much more than that. He was a savior when the nightmares struck, making me feel safe and loved, and …
I love him.
It was as simple as those three words.

I’d always loved Frankie.

Yet, none of those things mattered. I had no choice but to push my feelings for Frankie away, tuck them deep down inside, and continue to focus on my life. Frankie could never be what I wanted or needed him to be. I had to move forward with Toby.

My
feelings for Frankie …
Frankie’s
feelings for me … they were completely irrelevant.

“You’re dead, Frankie.”

He was gone before the words even left my lips.

I stood there quietly after those last heartbreaking words, waiting for something to happen. I didn’t know
what
I was waiting for, but nothing happened.

My words hung conspicuously in the air, and I wished I could take them back. I stripped out of my clothes then threw on a pair of plaid cotton shorts and a black tank top. I climbed into bed, knowing I was way too upset to sleep. I was mad. At Frankie. At our circumstances. At the confusion now surrounding my once-easy feelings for him.

But then, there was Toby. Very much
alive
and right next door. Regardless of my feelings for Frankie, I couldn’t just lay there all night thinking about how impossible a future with Frankie was. I’d been thinking about
that
for too long to note, and
nothing
had changed.

Nothing.

A
fter lying in bed for an hour or so, too restless to close my eyes and
try
to sleep, I took a chance and hopped out the window. I don’t know what made me decide to do it. Maybe I was so mad at Frankie that I wanted to shut off my feelings for him by being with Toby. Maybe I was crazy and pathetic after all and didn’t make sound decisions anymore. Either way, for whatever reason, there I was tiptoeing through the night, slinking across our yards, the grass cold and wet on my bare feet.

I didn’t know which room was Toby’s, but I hoped it wasn’t Frankie’s old bedroom. I practically grew up in that house, in that particular room. I almost stopped myself, knowing I shouldn’t be going over to his house in the first place, but feeling even guiltier about it because it had once been Frankie’s house. I had to stop to take a deep breath, steeling myself before continuing.

Figuring I had nothing to lose, aside from someone actually catching me sneaking around in the middle of the night, I headed to the other side of Toby’s house, hoping luck was on my side.

The first window I came to was open, and the blinds were drawn. The screen was removed and leaning against the wall below the window, which was the first indication that this was the right room, and led me to believe that Toby used this as an entry/exit point as he did with my bedroom window.

Why he should need to escape quietly from his window at twenty-two years old, I had no idea. But his dad
was
pretty scary, so … .

The room was bare, with only a few things on the walls, and not much to go by as far as deciphering whose room it was. The plaid wall border still lined the room from when it used to be Frankie’s dad’s office. The memory was hard to swallow. It occurred to me I’d completely avoided this house since Frankie’s dad moved away, divorced and suddenly childless. For a moment, I tried to remember the last time I’d been inside. Shaking my head, I tried to let go of the memories.

That was a different time, a different life.
A different me.

I leaned into the room to get a better look. I didn’t dare climb in though—my courage went only so far.

As I scanned the room, my eyes passed over a neatly made bed with simple forest green bedding and a couple black throw pillows tossed on top. Next to it was a small table with an alarm clock, a lamp, and a couple magazines—but I couldn’t tell what they were from where I stood. There were a few clothing items tossed about, and Toby’s black boots sat on the floor at the end of the bed, giving me all the proof I needed.

He was exiting the bathroom, towel drying his hair when he saw me and stopped in his tracks. A wry smile played at the corner of his lips, and I knew my being there shocked him.

Somehow though, he’d managed to shock
me
.

I was momentarily stunned by the beauty of him. His chest was strong and sculpted but lean, that same beautiful tanned color of his arms, with a small patch of golden hair right in the middle that looked like it was sun-kissed. The way the muscles in his chest moved with each breath sent nervous chills through me without our skin even connecting. His tattoo was massive—a beautifully intricate angel wing reaching up and over his shoulder.

Below his belly button, the muscles began to form a ‘V’ that ended somewhere under the waist of his … .

Towel.

Oh. My. God. He’s in a towel.

He was wearing a towel, nothing more. Heat rushed to my face as I blushed, realizing where I was staring. I looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. I ran my fingers through my hair, a nervous and unavoidable response.
Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.
I think I heard him chuckle, but I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see if he was smiling.
I
was smiling awkwardly of course, my nerves getting the best of me.

When I opened my eyes again, he was standing right in front of me. I gasped. With the height of the window and the slant of the lawn, I was eye level with his waist.
Oh my God.

Standing this close to him—
in only a towel
—I was so embarrassed and feeling so awkward. I knew my cheeks must have been crimson, and I was tempted to run away right that very instant.
What was I thinking coming over here in the middle of the night!?

I should leave.

Instead of leaving though, which would have been the responsible thing to do, I found myself slowly looking up at him, his smile making my stomach flutter uncontrollably. He reached out for me and helped me climb inside.

I should leave.

Before my feet were even on the ground, his lips were on mine, and the fresh scent of his clean skin overwhelmed my senses, bringing that welcomed warmth back to my veins. Before long, I was right back to tangling my hands in his hair and kissing him hungrily, as if the interruption earlier hadn’t even happened.

Damn. Clearly, I have zero self-control.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he said when he stopped kissing me to take a breath.

I didn’t respond.
Couldn’t
respond. Tongue-tied was an understatement.

I slid my hands down from his hair, feeling the curve of his shoulders, the muscles in his chest, the strength of his arms. Suddenly
very
brave, I traced my fingers along his tattoo, the bottom feathers of the angel wing dipping below his left nipple, and the three tips of the lines of the dark tribal design stretching up over his shoulder. He was unlike anyone I’d ever seen—not that I had much to compare to—and I just couldn’t fight the urge to run my hands all over his skin.

He stood perfectly still, watching me study him, his breath catching when I ran my fingers over certain more sensitive areas.

He led me to his bed, easing me down on my back, and slowly lay down beside me. His towel remained on—
thank goodness
—because I didn’t know if a red exists that would be able to describe the color of my face if he were to strip down before my eyes. I was barely keeping it together as it was. I could have busted up laughing from my crazy nerves any second.