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Yeah. I did.
Fuck.
No, I didn’t.
Again, it was on me. No matter what she said about me or Sasha, Frankie didn’t make me open that fucking door and leave the presumed safety of Sasha’s apartment. That wasallon me. Because I couldn’t handle some criticism from the one person I actually cared about and I thought cared about me.
Frankie’s outraged gasp pulled me out of the fog of memories. Eyes wide, she recoiled, as if I’d slapped her. The shock didn’t last long. Surging forward, she ripped the blanket off and pointed at the hallway toward the bedrooms. “Get your fucking ass off the couch and into a shower! We’re leaving even if I have to drag you out of this goddamn apartment!”
“I already showered,” I retorted.
“Roan!”
“Fuck. Fine. Just shut up already. You’re giving me a fucking headache.” I pushed myself into a sitting position and hauled myself to my feet, trudging to the bedroom.
I exchanged Sasha’s hoodie for a henley and swapped my sweats for actual jeans. In the bathroom, all I did was spray on cologne and rake a hand through my hair before calling it good. I could have taken the time to use some paste on the crazy blond waves, but I didn’t care. I could have shaved, but again, I didn’t care. It wasn’t a work day, so I didn’t have to put in the fucking effort. And the sooner I went with her, the sooner she would leave, and the sooner I could come back to Middle Earth and my couch. Well, Sasha’s couch. My spot on Sasha’s couch. For however long he let my miserable ass hang around, like a leech.
Stalking back to the living room, I spread my hands, waiting for the next round of rebukes. “Happy now?”
“Fucking tickled.” She whipped my jacket at me. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Coffee, for starters. Maybe get some food in you since I doubt you’ve eaten today. And we’ll figure the rest out later.”
I didn’t have the energy or the desire to argue anymore.
Following her out of the apartment and down the elevator, we were almost in the clear until we hit the ground floor.
When the elevator doors slid open, Ilya of all fucking people was there. Blinking in surprise, he stole a quick glance at Frankie. Surprise, surprise. He lived in the building, too. I mean, Misha was his uncle. It made sense he’d let his nephew live in his luxe high rise. “Did I miss an appointment?”
“No,” I replied, trying not to snarl. “I’m going out.”
He looked at Frankie again, like he was trying to put his finger on where he knew her from. “Who are you?”
She glared at him. “Who the fuck are you? Another kidnapper, I presume?”
He actually smiled, returning his gaze to me. “Is Sasha going with you?”
“No,” I huffed. If it wasn’t one babysitter, it was another. Jesus Christ. Why didn’t they just microchip me like a goddamn dog? That way they knew where I was 24/7.
“Then where are we going?” Ilya asked, undeterred by the hostility radiating through the air.
“Weare going out, away from anyone who sounds remotely fucking Russian.” Frankie grabbed my hand as she spoke. “You, whoever the fuck you are, are not invited.”
Ilya ignored the insult and raised his brows at me, silently asking for the real answer.
“Coffee shop around the corner,” I muttered.
He nodded and stepped aside, actually bowing and gesturing for Frankie to carry on.
“Asshole,” she hissed, jerking me forward. “You’re not a child. You don’t have to check in with him for God’s sake.”
“She says, as she’s literally dragging me around like a fucking child.”
