Contents (101)
- Also by Allison Winn Scotch
- Contents
- PROLOGUE
- SIXTEEN HOURS LATER
- ONE
- Frankie
- TWO
- Ezra
- THREE
- Frankie
- FOUR
- Ezra
- FIVE
- Frankie
- SIX
- Ezra
- SEVEN
- Frankie
- EIGHT
- Ezra
- NINE
- Frankie
- TEN
- Ezra
- ELEVEN
- Frankie
- TWELVE
- Ezra
- THIRTEEN
- Frankie
- FOURTEEN
- Ezra
- FIFTEEN
- Frankie
- SIXTEEN
- Ezra
- SEVENTEEN
- Frankie
- EIGHTEEN
- Ezra
- NINETEEN
- Frankie
- TWENTY
- Ezra
- TWENTY-ONE
- Frankie
- TWENTY-TWO
- Ezra
- TWENTY-THREE
- Frankie
- TWENTY-FOUR
- Ezra
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Frankie
- TWENTY-SIX
- Ezra
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- Frankie
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- Ezra
- TWENTY-NINE
- Frankie
- THIRTY
- Ezra
- THIRTY-ONE
- Frankie
- THIRTY-TWO
- Ezra
- THIRTY-THREE
- Frankie
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Ezra
- THIRTY-FIVE
- Frankie
- THIRTY-SIX
- Ezra
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Frankie
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Ezra
- THIRTY-NINE
- Frankie
- FORTY
- Ezra
- FORTY-ONE
- Frankie
- FORTY-TWO
- Ezra
- FORTY-THREE
- Frankie
- FORTY-FOUR
- Ezra
- FORTY-FIVE
- Frankie
- EPILOGUE
- Ezra
- Acknowledgments
- The Rewind
- Allison Winn Scotch
- Questions for Discussion
- What’s next on your reading list?
THIRTY-NINE
Frankie
They had made it about halfway to Waverly’s when it became obvious that Frankie really could not, in fact, run. Ezra was ahead of her, sprinting in a janky, drunken stride but still half a block in front, and finally, she threw herself onto a bench bordering the path and cried out, “Ezra, stop, I can’t.”
He slowed and turned, suspicious because it wouldn’t be above her to cheat. “Sure, right.”
He plopped his hands on his hips, and Frankie stared at him in the lamplight with snow falling all around. He is a vision, she thought. I should have married him, she also thought and genuinely startled, gasped at the notion. Never in her life, never ever, had Frankie considered that she had made a mistake with Ezra. Not because she didn’t make mistakes, but for her, life was a forward, fluid motion. Looking back meant unearthing her pain, and she had never been in the business of trading on pain.
“Really, Ezra, my head is in bad shape.”
He walked back toward her and stood in front of her. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, and yet he refused to budge until she did.
“Proposal,” he said. “If I run the table—”
“I don’t really think you’re that good,” Frankie interrupted. The Ezra she knew would never have been that good at poker, at something as risky as gambling.
“If I win, you have to play something for me. On the piano.”
Frankie started to protest, which came out more like a moan.
“If I lose,” he paused. “I mean, I don’t know, is there anything you want from me? I’m not going to lose, so it doesn’t matter; it’s irrelevant.”
Frankie couldn’t think of anything she wanted from him either, though she was starting to suspect that there was plenty if she had time to wrap her head around it. She chewed her lip and pressed her hand against the back of her head to stop the throbbing. It didn’t help all that much.
“If you lose,” she said, “I want an apology.”
Ezra’s jaw twitched, and she thought (and maybe hoped) that this would ignite a fight because a fight would mean that she didn’t have to delve into the very truth of her feelings that were bubbling up louder with each passing minute.
“Fine, whatever,” Ezra said. “I won’t lose.”
“But I can’t walk there,” she said.
He spun away from her, and she thought, for a fleeting second, that he was going to leave her there, in the falling snow, on a bench in the lower campus. Then he crouched down and said, “Hop on.” And she realized that, even while drunk, Ezra Jones was going to carry her on his back.
FORTY
Ezra
JUST ABOUT MIDNIGHT
Well, good night,” Ezra said to Bruno at long last. He knew he couldn’t hide out here forever, even if the quiet, the stillness, had been cathartic. A reckoning, just like Zoe had said. “Happy New Year.”