Chapter 16
Frank paced the length of Matt’s apartment for what felt like the hundredth time, his boots thudding heavily against the floorboards. It was a miracle Matt didn’t tell him to sit the hell down, but he seemed to find amusement in Frank’s restlessness.
“Any particular reason you’re wearing a hole in my floor?” Matt teased, sitting comfortably on the couch with a mug of coffee in his hands.
Frank shot him a sharp look, then immediately remembered that Matt couldn’t see it. “I ain’t used to sittin’ around, Red. You know that.”
“Frank, you’re healing. You got a bullet in the gut four days ago. Rest is not a sign of weakness.”
Frank stopped pacing long enough to glare at him. “You got that from one of your self-help books or somethin’?”
Matt smiled, completely unbothered. “You’re deflecting.”
“I ain’t—”
“You are,” Matt interrupted smoothly. “And while I enjoy watching you stomp around my apartment like a caged animal, I’d rather we talk about what’s really bothering you.”
Frank let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re too damn good at that.”
“Years of practice.”
Frank finally sat down in the armchair across from Matt, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his side. He didn’t miss the way Matt’s head tilted toward him, as if listening to every micro-movement he made.
“I’m not good at this, Matt,” Frank muttered, his voice low.
Matt leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “At what?”
Frank gestured vaguely around the room. “This. Being here. Bein’... close to someone. Talkin’ about shit.”
Matt’s lips quirked into a small smile. “You’re doing it right now.”
“Yeah, and it’s makin’ my skin crawl,” Frank shot back, though there was no real heat behind the words.
Matt chuckled softly, setting his coffee down on the table. “You don’t have to be perfect at it, Frank. You just have to show up.”
Frank’s jaw tightened as he looked away. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Why you keep lettin’ me stay.”
Matt’s smile faded, replaced by something softer, something that made Frank’s chest ache. “Because you need it.”
Frank blinked, caught off guard.
Matt continued, his voice steady. “You’ve spent so long carrying everything on your own. You don’t have to do that here.”
Frank clenched his fists, staring down at the floor. “You don’t know what you’re sayin’, Matt. You don’t know what I’ve done.”
Matt stood, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of Frank. “I know enough.”
“Yeah? What, you gonna give me a pass ‘cause you think I’ve got a good heart under all this mess?” Frank snapped, his voice sharp but breaking at the edges.
Matt didn’t flinch. “No. I give you a pass because you’re trying to be better, whether you admit it or not. You just don’t know how yet.”
Frank swallowed hard, his throat tight. Matt was too damn close, his words digging under Frank’s armor like a blade. He didn’t know how to handle someone like Matt—someone who saw all the broken pieces and still stayed.
“You piss me off, Red,” Frank muttered after a long pause, though the fight had gone out of his voice.
Matt smiled faintly. “Good. At least I know I’m getting through to you.”
Frank let out a low, rough laugh. “You’re a real pain in my ass.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Matt replied, and then, without warning, his hand rested lightly on Frank’s knee.
Frank froze. It wasn’t much—just the weight of Matt’s hand, warm and steady—but it sent something electric through him. His gaze snapped up to Matt’s face, who, of course, was wearing that infuriatingly calm expression.
“You’re not alone, Frank,” Matt said softly. “Not anymore.”
Frank swallowed hard, his voice rough. “You’re makin’ this real hard, Red.”
Matt tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Hard to resist me?”
Frank groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Jesus Christ, you’re impossible.”
“I try,” Matt replied, his voice laced with humor.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Frank let out a genuine laugh—low, rusty, but real. He shook his head, glancing at Matt with something that looked a hell of a lot like fondness.
“You’re somethin’ else,” Frank muttered.
Matt stood, patting Frank’s shoulder as he passed him. “So are you.”
Frank stayed in the chair for a long time after Matt disappeared into the kitchen, staring at nothing and trying to ignore the warmth still lingering where Matt’s hand had rested.