He frowned. “For what?”
“For hitting him.” For stopping him.
His jaw tightened. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“Yes, I do. I don’t remember it, but I saw your hand, you know. After you got over here, and the cops told me some of it and so did Denitra and the guys.”
Dropping his chin, he let out a sigh. “Frankie, it shouldn’t have ever happened. He should never have been anywhere near you, much less drugged you. I barely remember punching him.” Anger clicked under the words. “I just wish I’d done more.”
Then he headed for the kitchen. It took him more than a minute to get a Coke out of the fridge. I wished I could remember the part where he got there, if nothing else. Something so I could say definitively one way or the other.
That blank wall just sucked.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he came back with two cans. He sat on the coffee table next to my feet and popped open can before he passed it to me.
It was my turn to ask, “For what?” The can was cold against my palm, and his fingers were warm where they lingered until he was sure of my grip.
“For being pissy. You don’t need to deal with my baggage from last weekend.”
“Well, at least you remember your baggage,” I said, giving him a small smile. But his expression didn’t change. “Okay, so not my best work.”
“Why are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Because you’re my friend,” I said. If nothing else, we’d been friends for a long time. I’d been trying to salvage that, even if I’d been hurt. The hurt wasn’t gone, but the last week had definitely muted it some. “You’re not happy.”
“Of course, I’m not happy.You’rehurting.” He stared at me, his brows drawing together tightly. “Frankie, tell me you understand that I do still care and what hurts you—fuck.”
“No,” I said quietly, pulling my feet off the table and sitting forward. “Finish it.”
He exhaled a breath, tongue against his teeth as he shook his head. “The last thing you need is me unloading on you.”
“The last thing I need is you telling me what I need.” The words came out sharper than I intended, but he gave a little jerk, then blew out another breath.
I took a sip of the soda before I set it down on the table, then focused on him. There were shadows beneath his eyes. There were shadows beneath all of our eyes. No one had slept well the last week, even if I’d gotten more sleep than all of them.
“You’re right,” he said slowly, and those words came out a little rough. “Will you tell me what you need?”
“Well, talking to me would be a good start,” I said. “I don’t really have a lot of experience with…” I held up my wrist then motioned to the two of us. “The only guy I ever ‘broke’ up with wasn’t really one I dated for long, and last weekend was full of new experiences.”
The humor didn’t land, but damn it, I was trying. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and the knuckles on his left hand went white before he relaxed his clenched fist.
“I suck at this, Ian… Just tell me what you were going to say. Unload on me. Maybe it will help, and then I won’t feel like…”
“Like?” he prompted.
“Like I’m useless,” I admitted. The words tasted like ash on my tongue, and some of the day’s good mood just drained away. “You guys have had to do everything. I don’t know where I would have been this week without all of you.” Or how I’d get through the next week or the week after that. I couldn’t go back to work until the wrist was better. There was stuff I could do at Mason’s, but so much of my job required both hands. Maybe if it were my left wrist…
“Hey.” He exhaled the word as he leaned forward and caught my left hand. The warmth of his fingers wrapping around mine betrayed just how cold I was. “You arenotuseless. But you are freezing. What the hell?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, just stood and snagged the blanket off the back of the sofa before he pulled it over me and slid onto the sofa next to me. “Snuggle?”
I raised my brows.
“I’m not freezing,” he said. “You are.”
I hadn’t realized I was until he’d held my hand, and I eased toward him as he wrapped an arm around me. My splinted wrist ended up resting against his leg, but his arm around my shoulders was like an electric blanket, and I let out a little shudder as the warmth chased away the chill.
“Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t even realize I was that cold.” The A/C was on, but that was normal. I’d been in shorts and a tank top all day. The thunder outside rolled like a bowling ball racing down to strike the pins. The rush of rain striking told us the storm had finally hit.
“No problem,” Ian murmured, then pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Sorry,” he said almost as soon as he did it. Then sighed. “Dammit, I used to think I was good at this.”