“I really don’t want a ribbon,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Though maybe some other time.”
“Good deal.”
I turned on the TV while she hit the bathroom and came back with her brush and some hair ties. When she sat on the floor, between my legs, I took the brush and handed her the remote. “You are in charge of entertainment.”
“I thought we were going to do homework. Do you know how far behind I am?”
“Nowhere near far enough to be that stressed about it. But feel free to find us something educational to watch.”
“Meh.” The moue of disgust was the right answer. Still, I took my time running the brush through her hair. It was easy to forget just how much she had. I loved her hair. I loved it when she tumbled over me with it or when it was spread out on a pillow below me.
I loved it even more when I could fist her hair and guide…
And new subject, Jake. I gave myself a good solid mental shake. The last thing I needed was a boner while I was brushing her hair. I’d barely gotten rid of the morning wood. Not getting a boner around Frankie took effort.
I thought about Mitch for a split second, and that helped to deflate it but aggravated my temper.
She scrolled through the channels as I smoothed out her curls. They were not quite a riot today, though the extra waves would make separating it a challenge.
“Jake?”
“Yeah, Baby Girl?”
“Do you think I could have done something differently?”
I froze then forced myself to keep moving. A French braid would take a lot of concentration, and I needed to not yank on her hair. “Saturday night?” I clarified after clearing my throat.
“Yeah.” She had the TV on, but it was muted as she scrolled the channel guide. We’d end up switching to Netflix or YouTube, but we always started out on the guide. Like we had to verify there was nothing on.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said as evenly as I could manage. Even when we’d talked to the cops and that advocate at the hospital, that fact had been stressed. Frankie hadn’t done anything wrong. She went to the fucking bathroom.
The fault?
That was Mitch’s.
And a little bit Cheryl’s. Though I’d been stewing on that one on my own. Cheryl gave her the water. Even if Mitch gave it to her, why the fuck would he need to roofie his own girlfriend? There was just something off about that. She’d been a complete wreck the one time I saw her at the hospital and we kicked all of them out. Frankie didn’t need to be the one to look after her or make it better for her. Rachel had been with her.
I didn’t like Rachel, but I trusted her a little.
Cheryl?
Not so much.
“Jake?”
Fuck, I’d gone quiet. “Sorry, Baby Girl, I was just thinking about that night.” I blew a breath out between my teeth.
“You don’t want to talk about it.” It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Okay, one.” I managed to push that word out without gritting my teeth. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Two, I don’t wantyouto have to talk about it. There’s a difference. It pisses me off, Baby Girl. It pisses me off every time I think about it, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to me. It just means I have to resist the urge to punch holes in the wall or go find that lousy fucking asshole and beating him bloody.”
“Oh.”
Just that. Oh.