The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 350

Petty stopped under the porch, suddenly lost. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next. A gust of wind sent a handful of dandelion seeds swirling around her, and, bored, she reached out and caught one in her palm.

It felt like something only a kid would do. But really, when you’re bored enough, you’ll do anything to keep your mind busy.

That was when she heard a man’s calm voice behind her.

Maybe her fingers shook or maybe it was just another breeze, but the dandelion seed slipped away, floating off before she could stop it.

He had kept his word. He told her after dinner he’d answer that question she couldn’t let go of.

Stuck on this island now, with nowhere to run and no way to hide from Franco, she realized fighting was pointless. It would only wear her out. She might as well get this knot in her chest untangled, get the answers she needed, so if anything ever happened she wouldn’t go out confused.

The words he spoke next sent a weird jolt through her, a rush of cold all along her spine.

She took a breath, still facing away from him. “I don’t care about that. Who you care about has nothing to do with me.”

Like it really had nothing to do with her.

Franco was holding the glass of milk she’d left half-finished. She noticed his hand tighten on the glass, his tone darker, lower than usual. “Then what do you want to ask?”

She had just opened her mouth to answer when Franco took her hand and pressed the glass into it.

He glanced down, noticing her hands were cold. His brows knit together for just a moment.

Petty stepped back, keeping the glass. She needed space, like touching him any longer would burn her alive.

Franco pressed his lips together, that usual chill in his eyes mixed with something raw and unsettled. “Talk,” he said quietly.

She clutched the milk tighter, leaning back against the stone pillar. A salty sea breeze came through and teased the strands of hair at her cheek.

Petty shot back, not bothering to hide her bitterness. “And that photo on the island? The one you wiped off the face of the earth. How do you explain that?”

When she said “wiped off the face of the earth,” Franco looked almost... hurt, even though he just frowned.

“It was a fake marriage. Tell me, have you ever heard of an undercover agent using their real name? Without a real name, you can’t register it for real.”

Another fake marriage.

It made sense. She’d been undercover herself, she should have known better. Obviously Franco would have used a fake name.

But hearing him say “fake marriage” still hit a nerve, like someone poked her straight in the brain. All her patience and sense of calm just popped, gone.

She let out a cold laugh. “Franco, expert at fake marriages. No wonder you’re so good at it.”