Page 28 of Untruly With You

His breathing evens out, showing that he's finally drifting off to a full sleep. I, however, am anything but tired. My thoughts rage in my mind like a storm. I turn onto my side to study Sutton. In this space of vulnerability, he looks peaceful, his features relaxed. Curls hang down on his forehead now that they’re no longer styled away from his face. His lips pout out a bit, and there’s no crease between his eyebrows. It’s a pleasant change from his usual stoic, guarded expression.

As the minutes tick by, it feels like a weight presses against my chest.

Why do I feel so unsettled?

The heat builds under the covers, creeping all over my body and up my neck. I kick my feet out of the quilt, then my legs, then my whole body. I pull the bottom of my pants up to my knees. But it’s no use.

I imagine it would take a full brass band marching through the room to wake Sutton right now. Regardless, I slowly slip out from the sheets and tiptoe across the floor as quietly as I can, wincing at every creak of the floorboards.

Once I have the hallway door open, I stand in the open frame for a minute, listening for any sounds, particularly an argument between Hank and Magnolia or an ass-kicking from Frankie to Wells. But it’s silent.

I pad across the old wood floors, marveling again at the rustic grandeur of the house as I descend the stairs. I avoid looking at the elk mounts on the wall, half afraid the animals will come alive like they’re in some cheesy horror movie. Their massive antlers cast creeping moonlit shadows across the floor. Still paranoid I’ll wake someone up, I keep thelights off and rummage through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a cup, settling for a Mason jar.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

I nearly drop the jar at the sound of Frankie’s voice. I turn around to find her leaning against the kitchen doorway, a playful grin on her face.

“Nice shirt,” she snorts. “Are you wanting water? Or something stronger?”

I laugh shakily, still on edge. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself tonight without the help of alcohol.”

Frankie smiles gently and takes the jar from me, filling it at the sink. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. That pie—thatstupidpie…my dad’s attitude. It wasn’t about you.”

“Really?” I laugh, unconvinced.

“Well, it wasn’t entirely about you, at least,” Frankie jokes. She holds my water back out for me, and I stare at it, unblinking.

“Is that…safe?” I ask, taking the jar as if it’s filled with some kind of chemical warfare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone drink from the tap in the city.

She rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “Fresh water from the well. Try it.”

I do as I’m told, but nearly spit it back out. “It’s soflavorful.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she laughs. “That’s what real water tastes like.”

“I apparently don’t have a refined palate. I’m used to the water that’s gone through a dozen rounds of sanitizing and refinement.”

“Brave enough to face Hank Davis, but not brave enough to drink tap water?”

“To be fair, I had a week to prepare to meet your father. I only had about three seconds to prepare to drink well water.”

Frankie’s smile softens. “I’m glad you’re here,” shemurmurs after a silent beat. “When Sutton first talked about you, I dreamed about it—about you—becoming something more.”

Guilt punches me in the gut, leaving me breathless.

“After all,” she continues, “you were the first girl Sutton talked about. I’m sure he went on dates in the city, but never long enough to warrant true feelings. Even though he swore he couldn’t date you—being your TA, and all—and then swore that you had a no-dating rule, I still dreamed that somehow you two would make it work in the end. I can’t tell you how amazing it was to see him happy tonight.”

“I don’t know if a dinner complete with a father-son yelling match constitutes a ‘happy’ moment,” I say, trying to move the conversation away from me.

Frankie scoffs. “Family drama aside, I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. You’re perfect.”

I laugh and shoot her ayeah, rightlook.

Frankie rolls her eyes. “According to Sutton, at least.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. As much as I’m drawn to Frankie, my instincts are begging me to leave before I give our farce away. Our lie doesn’t seem so harmless now. “I should—I should go get some rest.”

I turn to head back upstairs, but Frankie stops me with a hand on my elbow. “Can you do something for me, Laine?” She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. “Will you… Will you promise you won’t break Sutton’s heart? Even if things don’t work out between you two, just be gentle with him. I don’t think I can bear to see him go through another harsh breakup.” Frankie pauses, exhaling sharply. “Cassidy tore him apart. And I can’t watch that happen again.”

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