Page 67 of Say You Will

“I’m the reason you were shot, Henry. You were protecting me from my own stupidity. I’m the fuck up, and you’re the one who saves everyone. I didn’t think you’d want my interference. You don’t trust me, and why would you?”

I stare at him, trying to understand. “We were children. The only person at fault for shooting me was the woman who did it. If I don’t trust you now, it’s because you’re rarely sober enough for me to rely on.”

He leans back against the headrest and stares out the front windshield at the clear night sky. He’s quiet for a long moment. Finally, he admits, “I fucked up. Sydney…knows things she shouldn’t.”

“You were drunk,” I say flatly.

“Yep.”

“Are we talking blackmail or is it worse than that?”

“Dad and I came up with a solution, but if she’d been a federal agent”—He closes his eyes—“I’m heading to rehab on Monday and getting my shit together.”

I do my best to hide my doubts. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll get this figured out, Henry.”

This time, my words are sincere. “You’re acknowledging there’s a problem. That’s the first step. You call me when you need me. I’ll be there,” I say.

“I will. I won’t let you down.”

“Don’t let yourself down.”

He opens his door. “You do the same. Find an answer for MPD that doesn’t involve screwing up the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

I open my own door and speak over the hood of the car as he walks away. “I love her. Needing to marry her sooner, rather than later, doesn’t change that. She’ll understand.”

He turns back and shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know much about love, but I know a train wreck when I see it.”

twenty-two

Henry

Legend | The Score

When I return tomy bedroom, I move straight to the en suite bathroom to grab a shower. It’s too early to feel relief that Gabriel is getting help, but some of Franki’s attitude must be rubbing off on me because there’s a new lightness inside me.

I’m also anxious to get back to Franki. We were in the middle of something important when the situation with Louis happened.

Gabriel’s take on this is dead wrong. Our relationship has nothing to do with financial incentive. I would be asking her to marry me whether MPD was in the picture or not.

Hearing the way her father attempted to leverage money against her made me physically ill with the realization that I’d tried the same methods the night I proposed. This isn’t about using her. It never was. I can make her happy and take care of my responsibilities. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.

Given the time, I’m certain Franki is asleep, but if she hasn’t locked the door between our rooms, I’ll check on her before I go to bed.Who am I kidding?I’ll check on her if she has locked it too.

As I step out of the shower and snag a towel, I hear it.Tap. Tap.

I almost slip and face-plant on the white and black vintage-style tiled flooring in my haste to get out there and see who is knocking on my door. The knock doesn’t sound again, but a light shines beneath the door to Franki’s room.

I rub the towel over my wet hair enough to take care of the dripping mess. Then I scramble for something to throw on, grabbing the first thing in my drawer and dragging the sweatpants up my damp thighs.

Confident I’m decent, I swing open our connecting door, but Franki isn’t standing there waiting for me. She’s in her bed, reaching to turn off the lamp, her hair a loose cloud of light brown and caramel-colored waves.

Franki pauses, arm stretched and eyes wide, as she takes in the sight of me, mapping my body, starting with the top of my head and trailing over my still damp and glistening torso.

Like my brother, her gaze catches on the gunshot scar on my abdomen located near where my left kidney should be. Startled, she makes a sound of distress. “What happened to you?”

She’s never seen me like this, not even when we were children on the beach. I’ve always covered my scar. No woman besides medical professionals and my mother, Charlotte, has ever seen me with my shirt off. Until tonight.

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