16. Noah

16 /

noah

Frankie’s dad has polycystic kidney disease.

It’s not terribly uncommon, and it can usually be managed with careful diet, exercise, medication, and dialysis. But not his.

Steven Bardot didn’t see it coming. He thought the headaches were part of his job. He’s a machinist, and before people started paying attention to things like hearing damage, he didn’t exactly follow protocol and wear the right protection. He thought maybe it could have been the effects of years of pick-up hockey, too, or from coaching kids half his life. When he started to get dizzy, his wife made him get answers.

Hypertension seemed obvious enough; he’s in his late fifties. And his diet has always relied heavily on drive-thru windows. But then the kidney tests came back. In less than a month, he went from being the stubborn man putting off the doctor to the guy in need of a new kidney.

I filled my mom in on everything Anthony told me, and I’ve been waiting on our front stoop for the last hour for Frankie to step outside. It started snowing about ten minutes ago, hard enough to dust the ground between our houses. They’ll need to clear the roads by morning. Winter is here.

I pull the knit cap lower on my head, covering my ears, then blow into my hands again before stuffing them into the pockets of my winter coat. The warm glow from the Bardot house across the streets catches my gaze as Frankie opens the door. She’s not dressed for this weather, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and purple unicorn slippers, but she shuts the door and walks in my direction anyhow.

I get to my feet and jog toward her, scooping her into my arms so I can carry her to my warm room. Her head falls into my chest along the way, her eyes red but no longer wet from crying. My door slams shut with my kick, and I lay her down in my bed, pull off my jacket, and slip in beside her under the quilt made of my jerseys.

“You said it was going to snow,” she mutters. Her voice seems emotionless.

I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead.

“I did. I kind of cheated, though,” I admit.

Her eyes flutter up to meet mine.

“You aren’t a cheater,” she says, still defending me against her brother’s accusation. A tight smile hits my lips, and I slowly blink my appreciation.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t cheat. I simply used my resources. I have a really nerdy weather app, and my favorite guy who posts on there wrote that the science pointed to snow.”

“Ah,” she says, her voice and her body listless.

The back of my hand brushes along her cheek, sweeping away a few stray hairs. She reaches up and presses my palm to her face, then nestles into my pillow and stares at me.

“Tell me about your dad,” she says.

Her ask surprises me a little. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk or sleep or watch mindless videos, but I figured it would be one of those routes. Talking about fathers was at the bottom of my list. I flinch a little, then roll to my back as she nestles into the crook of my neck.

“He misses cheeseburgers,” I laugh out.

Frankie’s amusement shakes her body against me.

“That’s deep stuff. You’re good at sharing,” she teases.

I tuck my chin to meet her gaze, and she’s quirking a brow. She’s not broken. Only hurt.

“Cheeseburgers are very deep, I’ll have you know. When you’re married to the queen of the grill and perfect seasoning, going months without my mom’s special delicacy is a big deal.”

She nods, a tiny smile peeking through on her lips.

“Fair point. I’m still a little bitter that you didn’t invite me over for meatballs the first night you were home.” She holds my gaze hostage with her own wide eyes, and I quickly snap my mouth shut and nod.

“You are right. I owe you an apology. I was still afraid of you at the time, and you had just thrown a Santa suit at me.”

She play-slaps at my chest. I capture her hand and bring it to my mouth to kiss.

“You want me to share something real?” I know she does.

She nods faintly.

I run my fingers along the back of her hand, then thread our fingers together. I like the way our hands look together, her olive skin, mine pale and freckled. We would make a beautiful baby. And that thought doesn’t scare me like it should.

“Let’s see . . . my dad never pushed me to follow in his footsteps. That’s something,” I say. I’ve only realized the weight of his parenting as I got older. He never once mentioned the Army as an option for me or pushed me to fantasize about wearing a military uniform or serving as his dad did before him.

“That is something. Your dad is a hero,” she says.

I nod and pull her in close.

“He is,” I hum, thinking of all the times he’s been deployed. He’s seen combat, and I’m certain that’s why he has never nudged me in that direction. There are things he still has a hard time talking about. But also, his dedication to the job is beyond admirable. He’s a true lifer. And now that he’s a colonel, he’s not facing the same risks overseas as he did when I was a kid. But the risks are always there.

“I really miss him sometimes,” I admit. “Even being away at school. I know if he were home, he’d drive down to watch the games.”

Frankie lifts her torso, resting her arm on my chest and propping her chin on her fist. I tuck my chin so I can stare into her perfect eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

My mouth slides into a faint smile as I shake my head.

“Don’t be. Missing him feels good because it means he’s important to me. I’m lucky to love my dad so much and to know he loves me back.”

Her eyes blink slowly, and she licks her lips.

“I know what you mean.” Her voice is hoarse.

“Hey,” I say, sliding down so our faces line up. I hold her forehead to mine as my thumbs stroke her cheeks.

“Your dad is going to be okay.”

She nods, her head rolling against mine. Those are just words, but I truly believe them. Anthony said he plans to get tested right after the holiday to see if he’s a match, and more of their family and friends will too. I’m willing, and I’m sure Frankie wants to, but if anyone else is a match, I hope she’ll let whoever it is step in and keep her from having to go through even more emotionally than she already is.

“Would it maybe help if I told you something I find scary?” My words are out before I really have time to think of them. Maybe it’s not the right time. Or perhaps it’s the perfect time. Whatever time it is, I’ve started now.

“Please,” she says.

Please. No backing down from that.

I bite my bottom lip and hold her gaze, moving my hand along her face until my thumb reaches her bottom lip, grazing her skin. My eyes go to her mouth, not in a hungry way but a needy one. A possessive one. Adoring one.

“I love . . .” My voice fails, only a stilted breath coming out. I laugh softly, overcome with nerves. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Frankie’s soft hands cup my face, her thumbs scratching against the three days of facial hair I’ve ignored. She seems to like it, so I figure why bother shaving.

“Hey, tell me. Noah, please . . . you can say anything to me. Anything. ”

Her gaze pours into mine, and my heart is beating so fast I think it might explode. My palms feel sweaty. I should pull them away from her face. But I’m frozen. A little petrified. What if Anthony was right before, that I will fuck up her life.

“I need to hear something good, Noah. Please. Tell me something good. Something . . . great. ”

My heart skips at the sound of her voice. She knows what I’m trying to say, and she wants to hear it. She wants me. This woman picked me way before I deserved her time or attention. The least I can do is cop to my feelings when she needs to hear the words the most.

“I love you.”

I suck in my bottom lip and widen my eyes, holding my breath as I hope like hell she says it back. Her mouth curves up at the corners, the stretch slow, taunting me.

“Show me,” she says instead. My insides rush with tingles, but not disappointment because I know she loves me too. She wants the distraction, to feel things that aren’t worry.

I roll her to her back and cage her between my arms, dropping my head down until my mouth captures hers. My teeth gently grasp her bottom lip as we kiss, and I coax her head up from my pillow, finally letting go as her hands snake up the front of my shirt.

“I love you.” I say the words again. They come easier this time. And I repeat them as her hands still over my heart.

She pulls my shirt up and over my head and I lower myself to her belly, my palm sliding up her thigh and under her nightshirt until her skin is bared to me. I kiss her stomach as she wiggles, arching her back as I slide the fabric up over her breasts. My fingers run over her hard nipples while my other hand slides behind the small of her back, holding her stomach to my mouth.

“Show me more,” she hums.

“I love you,” I utter against her skin as she pulls her shirt away and tosses it on the floor.

My tongue teases her belly button as I work my way down her body. My fingers wrap around the lacy trim that hugs her hips, pulling her panties down slowly. I kiss just below her belly button, then the trail of hair that leads to her pussy. She lifts her hips, and I slide her panties down her legs before running my palms up the insides of her thighs, spreading her open.

“I love you,” I say, my lips peppering soft kisses up her inner thigh.

I pause at her swollen center and let my tongue take its first taste. The slight flick from me makes her curl her toes and arch her back again. I slip my palms under her ass and hold her to my face, humming the words against her clit.

“I love you.”

She moans.

My tongue presses against her soft, swollen skin, and I lick slowly, sucking her in, then stroking her with my tongue yet again. She writhes beneath me, her thighs squeezing my head, so I widen her knees, making her take every lick.

“Noah, I . . .” She shivers, and I slide my hand up to push a finger inside of her as I flick her clit with my tongue.

Her hands dive into my hair. She thinks she has to hold me to her, but I never want to leave.

“I love the way you taste. I love this pussy. Fuck, Frankie. I never want to stop eating this pussy,” I say, every word I speak marked by my lips against her skin.

I add a second finger, pushing in and out of her as her hips buck against my mouth. Her center pulses, and when her legs close around me again, I know she’s on the edge.

“Come for me, baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you, I love you, I?—”

Her head falls back, and she grabs my pillow to stifle her whimpers, her pussy practically vibrating against my tongue as I flick and tease every last wave of pleasure from her body. When she’s finally done, I slide up so I’m lying next to her. Her hand immediately reaches down my stomach and under the band of my sweatpants, but I cup her hand with my own, stopping her while I still have an ounce of self-control.

“Tonight is all about you,” I say against her ear.

I shift her until her back is flush against my chest. I can’t help that my hard cock is pressing into her ass. And maybe I won’t be able to last as long as I hope. But I do want to show her in every way I can how much I mean those words.

“I love you,” I murmur into her ear, snaking one hand around her body to cup her breast, teasing the hard peak between my finger and thumb. My other hand slides around her hip and between her legs, my fingers gliding against her still-wet pussy, trembling from her last orgasm.

She gasps, then breathes out, “I love you.”

I chuckle softly and press a kiss to the back of her neck.

“You love this,” I say, sinking a finger inside of her.

She moans but shakes her head.

“I do love that,” she says, squirming in my arms until she’s facing me.

She presses a hand to either side of my face, kissing my lips softly before peeling back enough so I’m looking into her eyes.

“I love you more, though. More than any of this. I always have, Noah. I was meant for you.”

I shake my head and pinch her chin gently.

“I was meant for you ,” I say, tugging her mouth to mine and kissing her hard.

I let her win our mini wrestling match until her body is caged between my arms. But I don’t let her touch me until she comes again, and I make sure this second time takes an hour.