“Fuck, Frankie—” Jake raked a hand through his hair and nudged some of the broken pieces aside before he caught my hand. “I’m sorry. You looked upset and your hair is a mess and your shirt is torn… think about what it looked like. I… I’d kill anyone who hurt you.” “Maybe that’s the problem,” I told him and pulled my hand out of his. “It’s not your job to protect me. Even if helping was the goal, you didn’t even wait to find out what happened. You just attacked Coop.”
