After Franco took me to get a phone, we stopped by the fire station to talk to one of Vito’s buddies who has a business on the side setting up home security systems.

  We explain the situation with the store, and the firefighter gives Franco a list of the items they’ll need—all of which Franco insists on purchasing himself.

  The guy promises to stop by Latterature to install everything after I get wireless internet set up.

  “You mind if we make another stop?” he asks. “I’d like to let my sister in on what happened at the café.”

  I nod, and an immediate feeling of dread clenches my belly. It’s nearly dinnertime, and we’re headed right back to where everything happened last night.

  I don’t know what my face looks like, but Franco reaches a hand across the seats and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “You okay?” he asks. “I’ll be right there. It’s going to be fine.”

  I look down at his fingers resting lightly on mine. “Yeah,” I say. “Of course. I…”

  But then I remember. This is not what I want. This is not who I want to be. I’m not going to pretend or lie or make the best of it when what I really feel is scared shitless.

  “No,” I correct myself. “I’m terrified, honestly. I know it may be childish, and I’ll get over it, you know? I will. I’ll get over it, through it. It’ll get better. But right now, just the thought of going back there makes me feel sick.”

  He nods, and he laces his fingers through mine rather than pulling his hand away. “I get it,” he says. “And it’s okay. I don’t want to make it worse for you, but I really want to let my sister in on what’s going on. I probably should have called her already.”

  I’m watching our hands and the easy way he holds mine, and I wonder how this is my life.

  I’m sure Franco is just that guy. He holds hands and flirts with and sleeps with women like it’s no big deal. To me, every time he touches me, my body snaps to attention and wants to decode every movement. Every intention. Is he holding my hand to be nice?

  I get my answer when he releases my hand quickly and puts both of his hands on the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead.

  Right.

  He’s a good man.

  A dutiful son and older brother.

  I can be honest with myself about how the man makes me feel, while keeping myself grounded in reality.

  This is…friendship, right?

  And I need friends, especially here in Star Falls.

  We park a few spots away from The Body Shop, and I feel Franco’s eyes on me as I stare at my store.

  It looks harmless and dark. The handwritten piece of paper I put up inside the door still hangs right where I taped it before we left last night.

  I sit motionless as Franco jumps out, comes around, and then opens the passenger door for me.

  “Hey,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You good?”

  I shrug, then nod, then shrug again. “I might need another hug,” I mumble, not intending for him to hear.

  But he must because he grins, and the sight takes my breath away. His blue eyes flash, and I’m a little embarrassed that he heard me, but hell, this is me trying to be honest. Not hiding.

  When we get inside, I’m surprised by the place. I’ve only been inside one tattoo shop, which is why I’ve never actually gotten one.

  Instead of dingy walls, The Body Shop is decorated in a soothing, cool palette of minimalist, almost midcentury style.

  A large gray couch is in the waiting area, covered with pretty pillows that look comfortable and classy. I examine the space in awe, and although I should not be surprised, I am.

  “Yo, Echo.” Franco drops his keys on the front counter.

  The woman behind the counter has hot-pink hair cut short in the front with a sort of curly mullet in back. Her eyes are heavily made-up with dramatic black liner and sharp, glittery pink shadow.

  “What’s up?” Echo smiles.

  “This is Chloe,” Franco says, pointing to me.

  I take in the chipped black nail polish and torn fishnet top over a ribbed black tank. “So nice to meet you,” I say.

  “Is Gracie around?” Franco asks.

  Echo hooks a thumb toward the back of the shop. “Yeah, your sister’s done for the day. She’s cleaning up her station. Want me to get her?”

  “Please.”

  Echo heads back through a small door with a peekaboo window. I can already see they have more security than I do.

  While Echo leaves, I notice a mount that would hold a tablet or other small device, which is probably what they use in place of a huge, antique cash register.

  “Hey, asshole.” Gracie comes bursting through the door, her head cocked and her black locks flying. “What are you doing here on a school night?”

  She looks from her brother to me and cocks her head in the other direction, doing a sharp double take. “And hey…Chloe,” she says, sounding confused. She comes up to me and kisses my cheek, then crosses her arms over her chest.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her sincerely, letting myself point to her arms. “I haven’t seen all these yet.”

  She grins, and I swear there’s a blush competing with the rest of the colors on her skin. “Thanks, babe,” she says, using the endearment like I’m her oldest friend. “So, what the hell are you two doing here and not at work?” She leaves off the word “together,” but I am sure, given the look of amused confusion on her face, she’s thinking it.

  “So, not great news,” Franco says. “Chloe was held up at Latterature last night. Asshole with a knife.”

  “Oh my God. What? Stop. Are you serious?” Gracie looks at me, but the gravity in her voice and the slight shake I hear there have me nodding soberly.

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was terrifying. Franco happened to come by to drop off the leftovers I’d forgotten in his truck and nearly stopped the guy. Ran into him leaving my shop.”

  Gracie shocks me, clasping me in a quick, hard hug, and breathes against my hair. “Are you okay?” she asks. “My God, you weren’t hurt, I hope?”

  I hug her back and shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks to Franco. He’s been taking care of me all day.”

  She releases me, but only so she can hold my shoulders with both hands and stare into my face. “What the hell? People suck.” Gracie finally releases me and throws herself against her brother’s chest. “Good on you for being there,” she says. “Are you okay?”

  He nods and rests his chin on top of her head. “Yeah,” he assures her. “Totally fine, just fucking pissed off the guy slipped through my fingers.”

  She strokes her chin thoughtfully as if putting the pieces together. “That’s what the sign on the door means?” she asks. “I went over earlier for coffee and to hang out, but the sign says closed temporarily.”

  I nod. “I didn’t want to give a reason or a timeline,” I explain. “I have a lot to figure out before I open the store again.”

  “That’s why we stopped by.” Franco is looking at Echo. “Wanted you all to know. This happened yesterday when you were closed here, but whoever did this probably has been casing Main Street. The way I figure it, he noticed a new owner, a young woman by herself. Probably had been inside and saw she had no security and no technology, which means a cash business.”

  Echo points to a tiny sign on the counter that reads, We love green but don’t accept cash. “We stopped taking cash like two years ago when Gracie raised the shop minimum.”

  “Brought in a much more serious clientele,” Gracie explains, rolling her eyes. “I can’t tell you how many weekends I had to turn away drunk kids with a wad of sweaty twenties wanting to get the cheapest tattoo we could do.”

  “Not much to steal here,” I muse, looking around the shop. I notice a tiny green light up in the corner by the ceiling.

  “And we have security,” Gracie says. “But not all the stores do. It’s too goddamn dark on Main Street around closing.” She paces the lobby, a scowl on her face. “You know, just because we have cameras…doesn’t mean shit. If there’s somebody casing Main Street, we need to amp up security. More lights outside, motion sensors, maybe a security guard. The holidays are coming up, and that means more people, more shoppers, and more opportunities for criminals.”

  I have a hard time believing the building owner will do anything to improve security, but Gracie has a great point.

  I make a note to check my aunt’s lease and find out about the building owner and any help they might be willing to provide on the security end of things.

  Franco and Gracie are talking about how the criminal got my phone when she looks at me and points right at my chest. “Well, you know you can’t go home, right?”

  I look from Gracie to Franco and back. “I mean… I…”

  Gracie turns to her brother. “She stayed with you last night? Are you going to keep her with you? I’m sure Ma and Pops will put her up. Maybe Bev… Bev has that big house…”

  I look between them again, feeling like I’m missing something. “You don’t think I can go home yet?” I ask naïvely. I mean, let’s be real. If Franco wants to offer me another night with him, I won’t say no. But that’s a far cry from me never being able to go back to Aunt Ann’s.

  “Do you know how easy it will be for that sicko to find you?” Gracie says, true concern marring her features. “Did you use any GPS apps on your phone?”

  My stomach sinks. My entire life is in that phone. Over the weeks I’ve been getting to know Star Falls, I’ve used my GPS to find everything.

  My new place was saved as “home.” The shop is saved.

  “You have a passcode on your phone?”

  “Um,” I mumble as my cheeks heat.

  I bypassed the feature because I wanted to save time, and I never thought someone would take my phone and use it against me.

  Damn it.

  “Franco, you can’t let her go home alone. Not until they catch the prick who did this or you can beef up the security at her place.” Gracie’s arms are flailing wildly as she gestures.

  Echo is nodding behind the counter. “I agree.”

  It’s dark outside, and the idea of going back home to Aunt Ann’s alone is now the only thing I can think about.

  I don’t want to, but the real reason isn’t just fear. One more night in Franco’s bed, in Franco’s arms, is a gift I would not turn down if it was offered.

  “Promise me,” Gracie says. She’s so intent on him assuring her I’ll be safe, I’m sure there’s more going on than meets the eye here. Gracie has some story to tell, and while tonight isn’t the time, someday I’ll ask her.

  “We’ll deal with it.” Franco nods at his sister and Echo, then puts a hand to my elbow. “We got to roll. Just…” He looks at his sister. “Keep your eyes open, Gracie.”

  She nods somberly and waves at us. “You need anything, Chloe… Wait.” But then she stops. “Oh shit. I was going to give you my number.”

  “I have a phone now. Your brother helped me get a replacement today.” If Gracie is surprised by what I tell her, she doesn’t show it. She takes my new phone from me and punches in her contact information, then hands the device back to me. “You text me if you need anything,” she says, and she’s so sincere, I believe she means it.

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean it,” she says, giving me another hug. “Anything.”

  “Thank you,” I repeat before she releases me.

  Franco and I are quiet once we’re back in his truck.

  “You know you don’t have to—” I start, but he is talking at the same time, so neither one of us hears what the other tried to say.

  “Sorry,” I laugh. “You first?”

  He nods. “My sister makes a good point.” He’s looking at me with no hint of a smile on his face. “I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you go to back to your place just yet.”

  I nod and look down at my hands. I’m clenching my fists in my lap, at war with fear and vulnerability deep inside. I don’t know what to say or do.

  “Chloe?” Franco’s studying my face when I look up at him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises.

  I nod, but I need a little time with my thoughts. Rather than pretend I’m okay, I say exactly what I’m feeling. “It makes me feel really vulnerable to rely on you the way I need to right now. Can I just think for a minute?”

  “Think? About what?” His eyes darken, and he frowns. “Are you thinking about going back home? To Pennsylvania?”

  I shrug. I don’t know. Maybe this is a sign I should.

  “I just need to sort out my feelings,” I say. “I’m scared. I’m stressed. I’m overwhelmed. I feel indebted to you for all you’ve done…” Tears sting my eyes, but I’m not sad. I’m not sure what I am. “It’s all just a lot.”

  He nods and turns the truck on. We sit in front of The Body Shop for a few minutes, the engine idling, the radio off. Just two people together, each lost in thought. Finally, a loud grumble from my stomach breaks the tension.

  “Sounds to me like it’s dinnertime,” Franco says with a grin. “Can I take you someplace? You mind Italian again?”

  I think about how much money I have in my account and desperately wish I could buy him dinner to thank him for all he’s done, but before I can protest, he says, “Don’t worry. Where we’re going, we eat for free.”

  “Your brother really named his restaurant after himself.” It’s not really a question, more an observation.

  Benito’s is this cute little place—surprisingly cute. The exterior looks like a house that’s been converted into a restaurant. The parking lot is large, and based on how full it is even on a Tuesday night, he must have a successful business.

  Franco laughs as he gets out of the truck. “That’s my brother.”

  When we walk inside, I’m immediately greeted by a feeling just like the one I had at his parents’ house.

  “Franco.” The hostess must be close to eighty.

  Franco leans down and lets the hostess kiss his cheek. “Rita, this is Chloe. Ann’s niece.”

  The woman turns her hands to me, holding her palms up like she wants to cup my face. I smile at her, unsure whether I should hug her, shake hands, or wait for her to pinch my cheeks. She gasps and shakes her head. “Chloe, well I’ll be damned. You’re a stunner.” She elbows Franco and lifts a brow suggestively. “Keep her away from your brother,” she advises.

  Franco laughs, and I instinctively slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.

  “Rita is Bev’s mother,” Franco explains.

  “Bev is so nice,” I say.

  A couple comes in behind us, and Rita knows them, so she shoos us past her so she can seat the folks behind us. “It’s their anniversary, so they have a reservation. Go have a drink at the bar, and I’ll come get you when I have a table for you.” Rita greets the couple with her arms outstretched, wishing them an overly loud happy anniversary.

  My hand is still at Franco’s elbow, but he angles himself so he can rest his hand at the small of my back. “Go ahead,” he says.

  I weave through the crowd of diners and find only one empty stool at the bar. “I can stand,” I say, but Franco’s hand is already on the wooden seat as he pulls it out for me.

  “What are you drinking?” he asks. “Have whatever you want.”

  The bartender is insanely hot. Like, I mean she could be a model beautiful.

  “Holy smokes,” I mumble under my breath. “I think I have a whole new respect for your brother.”

  Franco lifts a brow and leans closer to hear me.

  “If I owned this place, I’d sleep with the bartender too,” I say.

  Franco’s eyelids lower, a seductive, sleepy look like he’s picturing me in bed with the gorgeous brunette. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Chloe.” His voice is a sensual rasp against my ears, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  I’m about to try to say something brilliantly witty when the gorgeous girl behind the bar spots Franco.

  “Hey, handsome,” she calls over the bar noise. “And who’s this? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

  I open my mouth to correct her, but Franco leans over the bar and says, “This is Chloe.” He introduces me to the girl whose name is Ashley, and without even taking our order, she sets down two glasses of ice water with a slice of lime on the rim.

  She starts pouring alcohol into a shaker and then serves up two candy-apple-red drinks in short glasses. “On me,” she says. “Enjoy.”

  Franco takes one of the drinks and hands the other to me. “You don’t have to drink it,” he says. “It’s a negroni. Pure alcohol. Despite its festive color, it’ll get you hammered quick.”

  Right now, that doesn’t sound half bad.

  We tap the rims of our glasses together, and I taste a small sip. “That is delicious,” I tell him. “And strong.”

  What’s more delicious than the negroni is the feel of Franco’s thigh wedged against mine. He’s standing beside my stool, his large form shoulder to shoulder with me so the people beside us have some elbow room.

  We have hardly sipped our drinks when Benito comes running out front. He’s dressed like he’s cooking, wearing jeans and a white chef’s jacket.

  “Yo,” he greets his brother with a chin lift and claps Franco on the back. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says to me as though we’ve known each other for years and not days. “Ma’s going to be over the fucking moon,” he says, looking from me to Franco. “Her matchmaking has never worked before.”

  I can’t tell if he’s teasing or not because Franco smacks his brother on the back and then grabs my drink before motioning for me to follow him. I wave my thanks to Ashley. Her hands are full shaking another round of negronis, but she gives me a chin lift as I hop down off the stool.

  Benito seats us himself, doesn’t even give us menus. He just asks me if I have any food allergies or things I don’t like. I shake my head, and he disappears, promising a meal I’ll never forget.

  Sassy is our server, and she keeps us going with an endless stream of conversation as she drops off course after course of food. By dessert, I don’t think I can eat another bite, so I refuse the cornmeal cake, but Franco has Sassy pack it to go.