Page 42 of Untruly With You

“And now, all anyone seems to talk about in West River is how great he is. It makes me want to poke my eyes out. And I get requestseveryday to play his music at the station.” Frankie fake gags.

“I need to hear all about this loser,” I insist, tilting forward.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for that. I could fill a bookwith all the drama that has come from Caleb Carter being in my life.”

“Wow,” I exhale, leaning back in my chair. “So, you’re twenty-four, already you’ve graduated college, bought a radio station, and wrote number-one songs?”

“Pretty great, right?” Frankie practically glows from the praise.

“How do you stay confident in yourself?” I ask. “I can’t order a sandwich without second-guessing my toppings.”

“It’s important to have a vision in life. To know what you want and love yourself enough to go for it, to make your lifeyours. For me, it's the station. When I see how it brings the community together, it reaffirms my purpose.”

I nod, scribbling down her words. “That's inspiring, Frankie. To have that kind of clarity and conviction.”

She smiles warmly, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “I wasn't always this way. I had to be very cautious about questioning myself, especially when Caleb's success took off. But I knew that comparing myself to him was pointless. I had my own path to walk.” Frankie claps her hands. “So, any other questions?”

I glance at my phone, where the recording is ticking on. We’ve been at it for nearly two hours, but I still feel unsure. “Nothing else I can think of.”

“Great! Then back tomyquestion. When did you realize you had feelings for my brother?”

Afraid I might project my nerves, and therefore my lying, I resist the urge to fiddle with my jewelry. “You know…Over time.”

Frankie’s eye roll makes it clear she won’t take that for an answer.

“Fine,” I groan playfully. “Looking back, it’s a wonder that I didn’t have feelings for him right off the bat.” The image of Sutton standing on stage during the date auction flashes through my mind, and it suddenly feels twice as warm in the room. “But he was my TA, and I needed him as a tutor, not as a boyfriend.”

Frankie waits, semi-patiently, through a long pause. After a while, though, she prods me on. “You still haven’t explained when you finally started to like him.”

“I didn’t want to date Sutton,” I admit.I still don’t…right?“My parents were college sweethearts, were married for almost thirty years, and then, one day, realized they didn’t love each other.” My breaths quicken. “I guess that, after a few failed college relationships of my own, I was afraid to settle down. I swore”—swear— “that I would take a long break from dating.”

“But?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the rush of emotions threatening to swallow me whole. How do I explain the tangled mess of feelings I have for her brother when I'm still trying to make sense of them myself?

“But,” I begin, my voice trembling with uncertainty, “then I saw Sutton—reallysaw him. Not as my TA or my tutor. But as him.”

Memories flood back, bringing with them a wave of warmth and confusion and a nagging deep in my core.

“It was in the quiet moments,” I continue, “the stolen glances across the lecture hall, the late-night study sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning. It was in the way he listened—truly listened—to every worry I had, every doubt I shared. Somehow, even without speaking, he made sure that I would be okay—thateverythingwould be okay.”

I chew on my lip. “It felt like…like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to step back or leap into loving him,” my voice trembles. “And then one day, I realized that, somewhere along the way, I had jumped—fallen, really—without even realizing.”

Frankie's face lights up with an infectious grin as she leans forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I’m so happy you jumped,” she declares, her voice filled with genuine love. “From the first time Sutton told me about you—the night after your first date, or tutoring session, orwhatever you want to call it—I knew he felt something for you.”

I listen intently, the tangle of confusion in my mind scrambling as Frankie speaks.

“He couldn't stop talking about you,” she continues, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “He had this spark in his voice whenever your name came up, this…this softness that I'd never heard before. It was like he was under some sort of spell, completely smitten by you.”

She’s exaggerating.

“I think he’s drawn to you in a way that he doesn’t even understand himself.”

Neither of us speaks for a long time until I ultimately change the subject, asking to take pictures of Frankie and the station for theWonderingsarticle. Frankie obliges, thankfully dropping the topic of Sutton.

Anxious that the photos won’t turn out, I take a couple hundred, praying at least a handful will work. Then, as we’re about to head to the cafe for some much-needed caffeine, Frankie’s phone rings.

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