Page 123 of Rules, Roses, and Rivals
Bubba:I think we need to respect Frankie's decision. If she wants to go with all of us, then that's what we do. No questions asked.
Coop:I'm down for whatever Frankie wants. But Jake's right, we need to know where we stand with other people.
Archie:I agree. We need to have an honest conversation about exclusivity. But for now, let's focus on making Homecoming work. We can figure out the rest later.
Jake:I just don't want to get my hopes up and then have her pull away again. You know?
Bubba:I get that, Jake. But we can't let our fears hold us back. Frankie's being brave by putting herself out there like this. We owe it to her to meet her at least halfway.
Coop:Exactly. And think about it—going to Homecoming with Frankie and the rest of us? That's gonna be epic.
Archie:Coop's right. She wants Homecoming. We need to make this count, because if we fuck this up, I don’t know how many more chances she’ll give us.
Jake:She’s already giving me another chance.
Bubba:Yes, she is. We have to be on the same page. We need to communicate and be honest with each other. No one said this would be easy, but we can do it.
Coop:And hey, think of all the fun we'll have planning this thing. It's gonna be legendary!
Archie:Remember, no pressure on Frankie. She's in control, and we respect that.
Jake:Got it. Let's make this work.
Archie:I’ll take care of the limo…
The house was quiet,the kind of quiet that settled in after a storm. I was still in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the floor. I didn’t usually bother to linger down here. I had my own rooms and a whole wing of the house. But Jeremy was out for the evening and I was flipping through photos from the locked file on my phone. So many pictures and moments spent with Frankie.
The weight of the evening's conversation with her and the guys still hung heavy in the air. The tension that echoed after the involved the awareness of having to rely on the guys to not fuck anything up, while at the same time—a part of me kind of hoped they would. I was in this for the long haul. I was playing to win. So if they screwed their chances, I would do everything to make sure she kept me as the ally, the one she wanted—the one who would always be there for her.
The front door opened, and in walked Edward, my father. He was a tall man, my mirror image in so many ways, with a presence that commands attention. There was a coldness in his eyes, a distance that had become all too familiar. When his gaze landed on me, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—appeared in his eyes. Yet it was gone before I could fully register what it meant.
"Edward," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. I refused to call him "Dad." Not anymore. Not after everything.
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Archie. How was your evening?"
I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. "Fine. Just hanging out with the guys."
Edward set his briefcase down on the entry table then crossed into the room, his footsteps echoing slightly on the hardwood floor. He didn’t pause until he reached the wet bar where he poured himself a drink. "And Frankie? How is she?"
I tensed at the mention of her name, a protective instinct surging through me. Frankie was off-limits in this house, a safe haven from the toxic dynamics that rule here. "She's good," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. "Why do you ask?"
Edward paused, then turned. His eyes met mine for a long moment. "No reason. Just making conversation."
Lie.
It never changed. He always lied.
This new one just hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. He was banging Frankie’s mother without a thought for how that might affect her. I clenched my jaw, pushing down the anger that threatened to boil over.
"Well, if that's all, I'm going to head upstairs," I said, standing. "I've got some stuff to take care of."
Edward nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "Sure thing, son. Goodnight."
Not flinching at his use of “son” had taken me time to perfect. I barely even noticed it now. I turned and walked away, each step taking me further from the tension in the room. At the top of the stairs, I glance back down. Edward stood by the window, his back to me, his shoulders slumped slightly. For a moment, he seemedalmostdefeated, a far cry from the powerful, commanding figure he usually presents.
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. I can't afford to feel sorry for him, not when he was the one causing all this pain. Not when Frankie could get caught in the crossfire.
Before I could turn to head deeper down the hall to my wing, the front door opened again. This time, it was my mother, Muriel. Her heels clicked sharply on the floor, a staccato rhythm that matched the tension in her voice as she called out to Edward.
