Chapter Fifty-Two

Hunter

“Hey,” I say into the phone to Logan.

“Hey. You doing okay?”

No.

“Yeah. I suppose. Things are finally dying down on social, but the fucking university had to send out a letter to all the students and parents attesting to my upstanding moral character. The whole thing makes me sick, Logan.”

“You going to sue that kid?”

“I’d like nothing better, but he comes from old money, and he’d get an attorney to stick it to me.”

“You come from money, too, Hunt. So you get an attorney and you stick it to him. What about your publisher?”

“I decided I’d rather not waste my money on a lawsuit where the kid’ll get off scot-free. And my publisher feels the same way.”

“Is the book release still on?”

“Yup. End of next month.”

“That’s awesome, man.” He pauses a moment. “I’ve got some news.”

“Yeah? Good news, I hope. I’d love some good news.”

“I got a new position at NYU.”

“That’s great, Logan.”

“And…they have another opening in their English Lit department, and they want you.”

I nearly drop the phone. Logan’s words from our visit to Smitty’s sail into my mind.

Sometimes it’s not a bad thing to move on to greener pastures. Sometimes we don’t know how much further we have to go—or grow—until we change scenery. Sometimes, when you look through the trees, you can find a path you didn’t see before. You can find a way to leave something behind and have even more.

Logan has moved on. Maybe it’s time I move on as well. Move forward. Grow. Bloom.

“NYU wants me?”

“They do. After I talked you up, of course. I even told them about your novel, and they think it’s great. It’s more money than Mellville, Hunter—and let’s face it, Mellville has left a bad taste in both our mouths.”

“True enough. I used to love this stupid place.”

“I know. Me too. Talk it over with your other half and let me know. They want to talk to you and get an answer as soon as possible.”

My other half…

Has it been that long since Logan and I have talked? Not since Smitty’s? I haven’t reached out to anyone since Frankie and I fought.

I’ve been pretty miserable.

“Frankie and I… We split up.”

The words crush my soul.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

I sigh. “I’m not.”

“Then work it out.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Hunter, my friend, if you love her, it’s always that simple.”

“It’s not. She…told Forrest Tucker, Leslie, and Linda something that I asked her not to.”

“Was it a lie?”

I swallow. “No. It was the truth. But it was personal. I asked her not to say anything, and she did anyway. She betrayed me.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“You don’t understand, Logan. You have no idea what it was that she told them.”

“You want to tell me what it was?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then you want to tell me why she said it?”

“She thought she was helping me. She wasn’t.”

He lets out a soft huff. “That’s not betrayal, Hunter. That’s love.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he says, “but don’t throw love away. I’ve watched you all these years. I’ve seen how lonely you’ve become. And that’s all I’ll say.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Logan. Thanks for the in about the job. I’ll get in touch with NYU right away.”

After I end the call, I replay Frankie’s voicemails. I do it several times a day anyway, just to hear her sweet voice. Just to make myself feel all the emptiness I deserve. After the first one, she left another the very next day.

Hunter, hi. It’s me again. It’s been a day. Surely you can’t still be angry. Please let me make it up to you. Please. I’ll do anything.

Then again a week later.

I promised myself I wouldn’t call you again, but here I am, doing it anyway. Because I love you, Hunter. You made me see we’re worth fighting for. Remember when I tried to end our relationship because I didn’t think I could go to the club anymore? And you helped me see that I was putting my own comfort over you? Aren’t you doing the same thing now? Putting your own comfort over me? I mean, I know you didn’t want anyone to know about your personal life, but now some of them do, and that makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that discomfort, but please don’t put your discomfort over our love.

Two weeks after that. Her last call.

This will be my last call, Hunter. I still love you more than anything, and I miss you so much. Do you even miss me a little bit? Did I truly mean so little to you that you can just give us up? Please call me. Please, Hunter. I won’t call again.

And she hasn’t called again. That was a week ago. Every time the phone rings, my heart jumps. I want it to be her, even if I have no intention of answering.

Is Logan right?

Is it really that simple?

Frankie did betray me. She did something I specifically asked her not to do. But she didn’t do it out of meanness or spite.

She did it out of love.

She was trying to protect me.

Funny. I don’t ever think of myself as needing protection. I’m the Dominant. I’m the one who does the protecting.

I punished myself for not being able to protect Allison.

I punished myself by trying to convince myself that Teresa was as kindhearted as Allison.

And now, am I punishing myself again, under the guise of punishing Frankie for her betrayal? She made a mistake, for sure, but Linda and the others are trustworthy. They’ll never reveal that I go to a club. And Frankie didn’t mention the club’s name.

My phone buzzes…and my heart jumps.

Frankie.

Out of habit, I let it go to voicemail. I tremble as I play back her message.

I know I promised that I wouldn’t call you again, but Hunter, my article—it came out a couple days ago—has been nominated for a Best Buzz award! I can hardly believe it. You were the first person I wanted to tell, but I couldn’t, so I called Mandy, Isabella, Gigi, my mom. They were all ecstatic for me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to tell you, Hunter, so here I am, telling you, even though it’s clear you no longer care. I miss you, though. I miss the club. I miss our talks. I miss our intimacy. But mostly I just miss you. Goodbye. And this time I mean it. Goodbye.

Sweet Frankie.

How I love her.

Love isn’t about recreating the past or about trying to make something work that just isn’t workable. Love isn’t about finding someone who’s perfect, either. Someone who will always do what you want her to do.

Love is about cherishing someone, protecting someone, even when you know they’ll be angry at you for it.

That’s what Frankie did. She cherished me. Tried to help me. All while knowing how I’d react.

And boy, did I prove her right.

I miss her so much, and I love her even more. So I call her.

And it goes to voicemail.

I chuckle to myself. I can’t blame her.

“Hello, my beautiful angel,” I say. “This is Phantom. I’m so sorry for being such a fool. I love you so much. Meet me at the bar tonight, and together I hope we can make some beautiful music.”