After our conversation the night before I’d been trying not to give Frankie so much of my attention.
Less of a conversation, more of a realization.
It was one thing to be pseudo-dumped by a guy I wasn't even truly in a relationship with—I’d done it before and I could do it again—but there was another layer to it this time, because we’d both found something that felt wrong to let go of. I'd wanted the rollercoaster ride, the adrenaline, the free fall, something to wake up the dormant, excitable woman inside of me. Something to distract from spending the holidays away from my family for the first time ever, despite feeling like I hadn’t truly spent Christmas with them since I was a kid.
I wanted to use Frankie, and that was okay, because he wanted to use me, too. We swore on it. We kissed on it.
But what I’d found was the type of man that melted ice, thawed me to my core where I never imagined a flame being brought to life again, and then somehow lit it.
I needed to pull back, start to let reality leak its way back in again. I would see Frankie a few times over the next six months preparing for a wedding, and then the slate was blank with possibilities. He would either come to Colorado or he wouldn’t, but the worst thing I could do was put hope into a decision that wasn’t mine to make. I knew how he valued family, the ways relationships had burned him in the past. I couldn’t imagine the fear of getting back into a helicopter again after three years and the traumatic last ride he took.
Backing away slowly, preserving what was left of my emotions so that I might still have something to give to someone else—that was the right thing to do.
“So, Ophelia.” A velvet voice called out to me, and in my peripheral I could sense the deep, brown gaze of Frankie’s worry searing into my cheek. “You’re a teacher?” Sam asked.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Fourth graders are some of the brightest and most animalistic humans I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching American geography to.”
“I still can’t point out Utah on the map, and I turned out just fine,” Tyler commented beside his brother, his broad wingspan taking up nearly the entire back end of the couch.
“That probably has something to do with how many times you got your head knocked in,” Mateo added. “I swear to God they designed our helmets with Echo’s track record in mind.”
“You know, a door can be breached in with a boot, or a shoulder…” Frankie pointed out.
“I’ve never gotten a critique until now, so I think you two should stop licking each other’s asses so often and be thankful that I was the one doing all the heavy lifting.”
“All right, all right.” Sam shook his head. “The girls are here. Let’s be gentlemen, right?”
Mateo snorted. “You should hear the two of them talk. Seductresses. Feeding off us like leeches for the last two weeks.”
The Swans both raised an eyebrow, the left corner of their mouths turning up in interest, looking every bit the pair of brothers with mirrored expressions.
The tips of my ears reddened as I realized the attention was on me and Frankie entirely. Of course Nat and her future husband would be boning—but the girl from Colorado and their old friend who was in a forest fire of a relationship last they knew of was unexpected.
Frankie clasped his palm over the back of my neck, squeezing the tense points of pressure affectionately. I immediately dropped my shoulders from where they’d ended up at by my ears.
Tyler ran his icy eyes from the tips of my socks to the crown of my head, surveying me like an elevator making a stop on each floor on his way to the top. It was no wonder women apparently fell at his feet; the assessment was scorching and deliberate. Not in a flirtatious way, but something more calculated. More so reading me like a book.
I squirmed free of Frankie’s touch, his fingers lingering down my back briefly. “So, what is it you guys do?” I addressed both brothers.
Pleased with the runaround, as if it told its own little secret in and of itself, Tyler perked up.
“I own a bar,” he announced proudly. “Best spot in Salt Lake.”
“Have you ever met a bar owner that also bartends at their own place?” Sam said.
“That must be fun,” Nat commented. “It’s very hands-on. I’m sure your staff loves it.”
“I like to know what goes on,” Tyler agreed. “Get to know the clientele, show my face, make sure there’s no funny business.”
Someone would have to be out of their mind to start a fight with Tyler Swan. He was scary as all sin and I couldn’t imagine a bouncer alive that was as intimidating as this man.
“What he means is,” Sam interjected, “he likes to know what women are coming in and out of his bar every night and make sure they get the very best customer service experience possible.”
“Is that wrong of me?” Tyler looked to everyone but his brother, outstretched palms like landing pads. “I’m very passionate about those Yelp reviews.”
“Echo is a full-service man,” Mateo testified. “Always has been.”
“I’ll cheers to that.” Tyler stretched his long body across the coffee table and tapped his beer to Mateo’s. His shirt sleeves bunched up his arm revealing twists and curves of a serpent and a sword inked into his skin.
“What about you?” I reinvested in Sam with glowing curiosity. His friendly copper gaze reminded me of a puppy. “If he’s the bartender you must be the…sous-chef?”
Frankie cackled beside me. “Wink once put his instant mac in the microwave without the fucking water. Almost burned the entire barracks to the ground in three-and-a-half minutes.”
“Like you never sat post all night and did some dumb shit when you got back in.” Sam laughed. “Actually now that I think about it, Pike, weren’t you the sorry son of a bitch that fell asleep and missed call time not once, or twice, but on three separate occasions? We got fucked for that.”
“Cicadas put me to sleep.” Frankie shrugged. “Not like you could fly anywhere without a pilot. I needed to be alert.”
“So not a sous-chef,” I surmised, giving Frankie’s thigh a teasing squeeze.
“You’re a saint for dealing with him, Ophelia.” Sam said. “I work for a nonprofit called War Paws. We pair animals with veterans who need support after returning home from areas of conflict.”
“I love that.” Nat brought her palm to her heart. “Rescues?”
“Always,” Sam promised.
“I’d have a new dog every week. I couldn’t stand the cuteness.”
“I did adopt my first week,” Sam confessed with a short laugh. “Big guy spoke to me. I have a soft spot for the labs.”
“I want one.” Nat turned to Mateo, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We should go to the shelter next week, babe.”
Mateo’s steely stare zeroed in on Sam across the room. “We’ll see, honey.” He caressed her back and turned a middle finger toward his friend that everyone but Nat could see.
“Do you want dogs?” Frankie asked me.
Again, all eyes in the room trained on the two of us. Such a mundane question, yet so loaded given the circumstance.