FRANKIE
The engine’s growl is the only sound as I speed away from Angel’s apartment, my knuckles white on the wheel. Leaving like that was a coward’s move, and the taste of shame is bitter in my mouth. I should be back there, eating her pancakes, stealing one last kiss. But the way she looks at me… it’s a trap. A beautiful, warm trap that makes my pulse slam against my ribs. If I stay in that gravity, I’m done. I’ll get attached. I’ll start needing her. Sparks would turn into a wildfire, and before I know it, we’d be burning for each other, tangled up in love. I can’t let that happen. My scars are still too fresh.
For years, since Natalya, women have tried to scale the walls. They failed. Bar groupies, lonely wives, hopeful romantics—I took what they offered and showed them the door by s
