“Did you like the song?” he asked.
“I did.”
“She wrote it. It’s called ‘Afterburn.’ A beautiful composition.”
“I loved your voices together. You were magnificent. You should record it with her.”
“You didn’t even hear the beginning.”
“Trust me, I don’t need to hear the entire song to tell you whether it’s good or bad. I’ve been doing this way too long.”
“Have you now?” He tossed his head back and eyed me, his gaze rapt.
“Please stop flaunting your life experience in front of me, Mr. Blade.”
“Are you saying I’m old?”
“No, silly. You’re not old. You’re perfect.”
He stared at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. “I hate this.” His left hand slipped under the hem of my top. “I’m rich and hot and I can’t even rage fuck you in my own limo.” A smirk tugged the side of his mouth. Though miserable, he still found time to be cute.
“I can fuck you,” I purred, rubbing against his growing erection. “I’ve got two hands and enough rage for the both of us.” I held up my palms and squeezed my thighs invitingly.
He cupped my cheek. “I’m not with you because of the convenient sex, Cassy.” His tone was heated but serious.
My stomach flipped.
“I know sometimes you doubt me and what we have.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
Frank pressed his index finger to my lips before my sentence made it out. “Let me finish, baby.”
I swallowed down the words.
“I’m not a saint,” he continued. “I did a lot of shit back in the day. I’ve seen and tried a lot of things. I’ve dated some of the richest and most beautiful women in the world, but I’ve never felt as at ease with anyone as I feel with you. You’re not just there to agree with everything I say like most people do. You listen to me and you’re not scared to speak your mind, and that means something to me. I don’t want to be with a woman who’s there because of what I am with the backing of my money. I want to be with a woman who’s there because of what I am without it. I know you had doubts about us because we were this big secret and I didn’t want the world to know about us. Truth is, I didn’t want to share you with the world. I didn’t want its jealousy and resentment to stain you. I didn’t want this world to do to you what it’d done to me. But if I keep you to myself, the world is never going to know how wonderful you are.”
Emotions jammed my chest. I couldn’t separate them. They were a mix of everything and almost felt like too much. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling and palmed his face.
“I’d still date you if you lived in a studio apartment in East Hollywood and played in a local band that had zero chance to get signed.”
“If Dante succeeds in forcing me out, I’ll definitely be looking for that apartment,” he joked.
We were an odd couple. He was a hopeless medical case, and I was a woman in heat on top of him. The absurdity of this situation made me want to laugh. So I did.
“Was my speech funny?” Frank asked, grinning like a fool.
“Not really.”
“Okay then.” He paused, then the smile lines near the corners of his eyes deepened. “Do you seriously think Isabella and I should record a duet?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’ll ask Brooklyn to reach out to Maria tomorrow.”
I couldn’t explain what exactly I felt at that moment. My heart was big and loud and drummed against my ribs so hard, I thought it was going to burst.
I love you, Frank Wallace, my inner voice said. I love you and I won’t let anyone harm you. Not your so-called best friend, not the world, not your demons.
Chapter Five
Frank’s second surgery went well. The doctors were able to remove the loose fragments and successfully replaced the plate in his right shoulder. He returned home from the hospital the same day and spent the first forty-eight hours in bed under the spell of a morphine-induced sleep. Janet flew in from Arizona to spend Christmas with us. Corey came by a few times. Brooklyn practically lived on the property. She was already on the phone in the office every morning when I woke up and usually stayed until after dinner. Roman slept on the ground floor of the east wing.
Ashton’s eighteenth birthday was around the corner and between car shopping, the documentary, and keeping an eye on Frank, I felt as if there weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done.
Christmas wasn’t my favorite time of the year, mainly due to the shitty memories of my father, who’d always gone off the rails during the holiday season, and this year, with everything that had happened in the past few weeks, I dreaded the worst. It was a strange recurring feeling of doom somewhere below my chest. Dark and confusing, it crept up on me randomly. During a shower, during breakfast, during conference calls with potential sponsors.
I worked in a spare room down the hall while Frank was slowly coming back to his senses after the surgery. My end-of-the year editorial for Rewired felt like a bitter goodbye and I almost teared up while typing it. We hadn’t made any official announcements on social media about my stepping down yet, but Shayne’s face was all over our YouTube channel and people started to take notice. I even received a few emails from the German fans. They were under the impression I’d left the magazine for good and wanted to know what publication I worked for now.
The biggest event of December, not counting Frank’s surgery, was the inception of our film-baby’s name.
It was official. We titled the documentary Dreamcatchers.
I loved it, and so did Maria and Isabella.
A couple of days after Frank’s impromptu appearance at the rehearsals, Levi, Ashton, and I had gotten together for a night of
