Page 105 of Craving Francesca

I stood there wondering what the fuck to do until it started to rain, and I had to get the bike unpacked and covered for the night. By the time I finally got back inside, dripping wet and still pissed about the whole thing, I had a text from Lou.

Don’t worry. She made it home safe.

Chapter 11

Frankie

My stomach churnedwith nausea as I drove home. Gray’s truck wasn’t that much bigger than the Tahoe, but all the controls were different, and when it started to rain, I’d accidentally turned on the blinker before I could find the windshield wipers. I couldn’t believe he’d set up some daily attack on Scott. He’d planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d be clear of it, and I wouldn’t have any idea it was happening until we got back.

It was a sour end to our sweet trip, and thatreallypissed me off. I should’ve been curling up on the couch with one of Gray’s books while he grilled the steaks, but instead, I was trying not to cry as I drove away without him.

“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” Lou called, jumping up from the couch as I let myself into the house.

“Yeah, well, plans changed,” I growled, dropping my backpack and fanny pack just inside the door.

“You look so good,” she said, rushing in to give me a hug. “Tan. Did you have fun?”

“My tan lines are a nightmare,” I griped, pulling off my jacket. “But hey, at least I slept. That’s a bonus.”

“Why’d you come home early?”

“Because Gray is a fucking asshole.”

“Do tell.”

I paused for a moment. Oh, well, it’s not likehewas keeping his mouth shut. “Guess who reported to the police that Gray’s been attacking him every day this week?” I asked sarcastically, grabbing my bag by one of the straps and dragging it toward my room.

Lou’s eyes widened with glee.“No.”She followed me down the hall.

“Oh, yes,” I replied dryly. “There were cops at Gray’s place when we got there. Of courseGrayhas been out of town with me all week, and he has the fucking receipts to prove it.”

Lou laughed.

“It’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” she said, her lips twitching. “So, who was it?”

“I have no fucking clue. He wouldn’t answer me when I asked.”

“I mean…” She plopped down on my bed. “There are so many options.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” I gritted out. I unzipped my bag and upended it, so everything dumped onto the floor.

“And you’re…mad?”

“No,” I replied, shooting her a deranged smile. “I’m fucking livid.”

“I’m sure his heart was in the right place,” she called as I stomped toward my closet.

I poked my head back out. “No, it was not,” I sang, my heart pounding. “Or he wouldn’t have fucking hidden it!”

Where the fuck was my big sweatshirt? I always hung it up so it didn’t take up half a drawer in my dresser. I slapped through the clothes, the hangers making awful screeching noises as they slid across the rod. I just wanted to put on my big sweatshirt and some pajama pants and fucking wallow.

“He was pretty worried about you,” Lou said gently as she stood in the doorway.

“Worried does not translate to beating up my old boyfriend,” I countered. “Worried doesn’t translate to telling everyone about it and lying.”

“I don’t think he toldeveryone,” Lou replied hesitantly as I ripped my big sweatshirt off a hanger in the back of my closet and yanked it over my head. She shifted to the side as I stormed back out to the bedroom. “No one has said anything to me about it.”

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