For a moment, Frank didn't move.
He stood frozen at the door, hand still on the handle, back to me. The silence stretched so long I wondered if he'd heard me at all.
He turned slowly. The look on his face... I'd never seen him like this.
“Tell me you are staying—not because I blackmailed you, not because you have no other choice. Tell me you're staying because you want to."
"Frank—"
"I need to hear it, Jane. I need to know this is real."
I looked up at him, into the vulnerability in his eyes. This man who'd held a gun to my head, a criminal, a killer, had somehow become the only place that felt like safety.
"I'm staying because I want to," I whispered. "Because you're the first person in two years who made me feel like I could stop running.”
"And because I—" The words got stuck.
