Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
With that comment, I stood up. “I’m going to see if I can find some coffee. And some air.”
And I did.
Forty-five minutes later, I was on my back on a stone bench staring up at the sky.
It was so hot that I had sweat running down my cheeks and into my hair.
Yet I stayed exactly where I was, not sure what to do next.
Then I felt him—just like I always did when he was around.
He sat down on the bench next to my head, and I glanced up at him.
“Hey,” I said softly.
His eyes caught mine.
“You… hey,” he finally settled on.
I didn’t know what to say.
What to feel.
But I knew two things. It was my Luca sitting beside me. My Luca who I was still engaged to. My Luca who I’d prayed and prayed to come home. My Luca who had been tearing me up for weeks.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“Luca,” I breathed. “Riel… I don’t know what to call you anymore. Is it okay for me to call you Luca?”
He thought about it long and hard. I could see the indecision written on his face.
“I feel like an imposter,” he finally settled on. “That’s why I couldn’t go with Malachi. I don’t know who I am still, Frankie. I may be Luca, and for once the name actually doesn’t make me want to cringe… it does feel right. But… shit.”
“But shit is right.” I laughed weakly, tears springing to my eyes.
What he didn’t know was that I didn’t care what I had to call him. I had my man back.
Even if he was a little broken and needed to be put back together again.
“I’ll call you whatever you want,” I said finally. “Just as long as you know that you’re allowed to like me now. And I’m allowed to like you.”
He seemed to understand that all too well.
We’d been fighting a pull since the moment he came back to Kilgore.
One that had brought us into contact with each other, whether we wanted to be or not.
I should’ve known—allowed myself to believe—that this was my man.
But it was hard.
Everybody told me he was Malachi. And Malachi wasn’t mine.
I should’ve known when seeing ‘Malachi’ had invoked such intense feelings within me that he wasn’t who he thought he was.
There was only ever one man that I’d been that intensely attracted to, and Luca was it.
“You can call me Luca,” he said finally, wiping away my tears.
I sniffled, unable to stop myself.
The tears just kept coming.
I was feeling such intense joy about the entire situation that my emotions were all over the place.
I was happy that he was here. Sad that we’d lost so much time. Horrified that his parents thought he was still missing when he wasn’t. Upset that we now had to tell my dad, his parents, and Cora when they weren’t together to offer support.
Shit, but there were just so many things going through my brain that I didn’t know where to begin.
“We have to tell Gabe and Ember,” I said. “And your sister will be sharing a beach house with us in two days.”
He didn’t say anything to that for so long that I expected him not to reply to it at all.
Sitting up, I wiped my eyes and tried to get control of myself.
“I want to wait until I can tell Gabe and Ember first.” He paused. “My mom and dad.”
I felt my heart kick at his words.
“Cora we can tell,” he said. “But we’ll have to tell her and ask her to keep quiet until we get home. I just… I need time. I need to think about it. And I know that I’m not going to be able to stay away from you like a man who’s not dating you should.”
I completely understood.
“I turned over Malachi’s credentials,” he said. “They gave me a military ID. I should be able to get everything that I need with it from there. But I couldn’t keep using Malachi’s life.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but he continued.
“They did a DNA test. I’m really me.”
That was nice.
But I didn’t need a DNA test to tell me what was in my heart.
Chapter 11
The boobs are real. The smile is fake.
-Frankie’s secret thoughts
Frankie
I was doing pretty well, considering.
“Have you ever ridden in a helicopter before?” I asked curiously, watching him as if he was on auto-pilot, putting clasps into the buckles and tightening me into the seat.
“I think so,” he said. “I’m doing things that I probably wouldn’t know how to do otherwise.”
That made sense.
What also made sense was nothing.
Nothing made sense anymore.
I was an emotional mess.
They did a DNA test. I’m really me.
His words from earlier were the last ones that he’d spoken to me in over an hour. Until I’d asked him if he’d ridden in a helicopter before.
Then there were no more words at all again because the sound of the helicopter blades above our head started to spin.