Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

with a raw analysis that most of us avoid. Frankie cuts straight to the heart of
love’s vulnerability. And while most of us like to comfort ourselves with the
delusion that love is bliss, it’s not called falling in love for nothing. We love,
entranced by the breathtaking view, and we fall, not knowing where we’ll land.
Our food is set before us, plates turned to an exact angle for best
presentation. Waters filled. Then we’re alone again.
Frankie stares at her food and sighs.
“Hey.” I touch her gently, slipping her hand inside mine. “How are you
feeling about all of this?”
She meets my eyes. “After last night, when you told me, then you left…I
thought about if I could do this, if I wanted it.” Her eyes soften, and her
shoulders round, like she wants to curl in on herself. “And all I could think was
about how much I missed you. I wished I was with you. So that’s why I’m here,
because right now, I can at least tell you with complete sincerity, that I want to
be with you, and I feel like I’ll want to be with you more and more. But I also
have to be honest, Ren. This is scary.”
“How can I make it less so?”
She smiles softly. “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself. When it gets
to be too much, tell me.”
“It won’t, Frankie.” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll show you that.”
“Well, that’s that, then. But until we’re out of the playoffs or we win the
Cup, we act like we always have at work—completely professional. As long as
the season runs, no matter what we do personally off-hours, nothing changes in
how I treat you in front of others.”
“What about if someone finds out while you’re still with the team? Do you
want to wait until after the season?”
Please say no. Pleeeease say no.
“Hell no,” she says, waving a hand. “We’ll be professional at work, and if
anyone guesses why I’m spending time with you outside of it, it’s not like I risk
losing my job for it anymore. I’m leaving the team. It’s no one’s goddamn
business what we do. I mean…does that work for you?”
I smile at her. “Absolutely.”
“Good.” Frankie smiles to herself and cuts into her meal. She’s quiet as she
works her way through her food, and just as I’m starting to worry about the
silence, about the places her thoughts have taken her, I’m stopped by the gentle
press of her foot next to mine beneath the table.
The tiniest gesture.
But it feels impossibly significant.