The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 422

When Franco said he’d carry her, Petty instinctively stepped back, but he didn’t let go. His fingers kept her close, like there was some invisible cord tethering them together. Every time she tried to move away, Franco just reeled her right back. He reached over and gently pushed aside a branch before it could scratch her forehead.

“It’s not like this is the first time,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. He pulled her closer, then turned around and crouched to offer his back.

The hand that had held her wrist slid back and rested on her lower back, guiding her. Petty felt a rush of nerves. She pressed her palms to his broad shoulders, stubbornly insisting, “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need this.”

It wasn’t until she touched him that she realized his clothes were completely soaked. She wasn’t surprised. The entire walk had been a mess of rain seeping from the sky and dripping off the trees. The water just ran off her hood, down her jacket, and disappeared to the ground—her layers stayed dry underneath.

Franco, on the other hand, was drenched. She could feel it, cold and clammy, not a hint of warmth under her touch. Still, he didn’t complain.

Franco noticed her hesitation, but his voice stayed casual. “I’m alright. Get on.”

A fat raindrop plunked onto his shoulder. Petty’s fingers curled, and she let out a tiny “Okay” that barely made it past her lips.

He lowered himself, steady and patient. Petty climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck, trying not to make it awkward. Franco stood up like she weighed nothing. One hand was steady around her thighs, the other still holding his gun.

Even in the thick underbrush and uneven ground, Franco didn’t miss a step. If the branches weren’t constantly in the way, Petty was pretty sure he would have just sprinted, carrying her without breaking a sweat.

Resting against him, she barely felt a jolt. The only sound was the soft patter of rain hitting her hood and sliding off down her back to the forest floor. None of the rain made it to Franco anymore.

Silently, Petty adjusted her arms. Wearing this oversized jacket, she could stretch it wide enough to cover Franco’s shoulders too. It just felt like the most natural thing to do.

It wasn’t until a bit later that she realized she was shielding him from the rain, using her body as a barrier without even thinking about it.

“Good. Then stop talking,” she said.

Franco lowered his eyes. In the shadows, his dark gaze almost shimmered, something fierce and unspoken hiding in it. The hand steadying her gripped her tighter, his whole arm going taut.

She noticed right away. It did something to her too.

Neither of them said a word after that, until Petty finally poked him gently. “Franco, are we moving or not?”

Her soft voice brushed his neck, warm and quiet, sending an unexpected shiver up his spine.

Franco pressed his tongue to his back teeth, trying to ground himself. The rain soaked through his sleeve, making every corded muscle stand out. Still, he just kept walking, steady as ever, like she was right where she belonged.