Page 85 of Stolen Summer

“Uh-huh,” she muttered like she didn’t believe me.

“I told you it’s over.” I did my best to fortify my conviction, not just for Frankie but for me. I needed to believe it to move on.

“Maybe for him but not you. I know you think throwing yourself into work will help make the hurt go away. It won’t. Not completely. It’s like putting a Band-Aid on a deep cut. It’s only a temporary fix because, when you’re alone again in your room, your mind will go back there and bring all those suppressed feelings you buried during the day back.”

I studied my friend, her eyes focused on the road. “When did you get so philosophical?”

She gave me a flippant smile. “When you’ve fallen in love as many times as I have, that’s when.”

I rolled my eyes. “You do fall for a new guy every week.”

“Exactly.”

I shook my head. “Why would you ever put yourself out there again knowing when it ends you feel like shit?”

“Simple,” she said with a shrug as if she had unlocked the secrets of the heart. “There’s always that chance it won’t end, but I won’t know unless I take the risk.”

That pretty much summed up our personalities. Frankie took risks. I was careful, wary. Well, when it came to love. It was the one aspect of my life I could control. “I wasn’t in love with him.”

She glanced left and right before steering the car onto the boardwalk. “Maybe not, but you were on your way there.”

Cars lined the streets on both sides, meaning there was no parking. Frankie steered her clunky car into the lot a few blocks over. It wasn’t a far walk to the diner, and since her car didn’t have working AC, it might be cooler outside.

Walking, we turned the corner less than a block from the diner when someone stopped us. “Excuse me, are you Arie Quinn?” they asked Frankie.

She looked the guy up and down, sizing him up. “Depends on who’s asking?”

He had his hands shoved in his pocket and a backward hat on his head, and regardless of the surfer boy looks, I got a rotten feeling. “I have something for her.”

“Aren’t you cheeky.” She eyed him now with a less suspicious nature and a glint of intrigue, judging him to see if he was worth her time. “If it’s not diamonds, cash, or sex, I’m not interested.”

I rolled my eyes. How Frankie could go from cynical to flirty in 2.0 seconds was beyond me.

Neither Frankie nor I saw the knife concealed in his pocket until he whipped it out and thrust it into her lower stomach. My best friend gasped, her gaze glancing down to the blade stuck in her gut. Her expression went from surprise to shock to agony in a matter of seconds like she couldn’t believe she’d been stabbed.

I was right there with her.

In broad daylight for fuck’s sake.

Everything happened so damn fast. Her attacker sort of oddly hugged her to block the knife as he yanked it out and plunged the weapon in again.

And again. And again.

I lost count of the number of times he impaled my best friend because I started screaming.

The blood set me off.

He stopped. Our eyes locked, and adrenaline had me lunging forward, jumping on his back when he turned to bolt.

I don’t think so, motherfucker.

He didn’t get to saunter in here, hack up my friend, and then dip.

My brain momentarily forgot he had a weapon. All I could think was I had to stop him. He hurt someone I loved, and he needed to pay.

I latched on to him like a damn monkey, my arms wrapping around his neck. People in the street were starting to take notice but not completely understanding what happened. Now that I was essentially piggybacking on this asshole, I didn’t know what to do next. I tightened my arms as much as I could, wanting to choke him.

Someone screamed at him.