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It was Halloween when they landed in JFK, after an uncomfortably long and dead silent flight with too many over-excited children running up and down the aisles and not enough complimentary drinks in first class.
“Sorry,” the flight attendant had said sweetly, when he’d asked for a second beer, “Our route was changed, so we’re low on supplies. We have candy, though.”
She unceremoniously dropped two fun-sized Snickers bars onto his tray table and walked away. Frank stared down at them in annoyance for a moment, then opened one with a sigh.
It was just as well. All the alcohol in the world wasn’t going to be enough to stop him from feeling like a grade-a moron.
Joe elbowed him in the side as he crumpled the wrapper in his hand. “Can I have that?” he asked, nodding at the second, untouched piece of candy. “I miss junk food.”
Variety had been limited on the submarine. Unfortunately there was no shortage of cell phone service, or anything else to stop his big mouth from running. Wordlessly, he pushed the Snickers across his seat to Joe.
“Are you still stewing?” Joe asked carefully, glancing at him with concern as he unwrapped the candy bar and stuffed it in his mouth, “You shouldn’t worry so much about it. She probably didn’t even hear it. Nancy never checks her voicemails.”
Joe was right, but that was never how his luck went. Frank thumped his head back against the airplane seat, then grumbled, “We don’t even know when I got cut off. My life is over.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Joe rushed to assure him, for what was probably the tenth or twelfth time since they first left the sub, “I totally did damage control.”
“You totally did not,” Frank huffed, digging his fingers into his eyes as he rubbed at them tiredly. If anything, the follow-up message Joe had left repeatedly emphasizing how irrelevant and unimportant their previous voicemail to her was would only make Nancy more curious.
If she even bothered to check her messages in the first place.
“Look, I wouldn’t have given you the phone if I’d known you were going to do that,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I thought you were going to share evidence with her.”
That had been his intention, sure. But intentions never mattered when it came to Nancy. His stupid mouth always did whatever it wanted, independently of his good sense or reason or worthless fucking brain.
“It just came out,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. “I was worried about her. She could’ve died.”
“She could always die,” Joe pointed out fairly, tossing the empty candy wrapper back onto Frank’s tray table. “You probably shouldn’t make a habit out of doing that.”
“Believe me, I’m never speaking again.” He’d had a headache for two days. Not knowing whether or not Nancy had gotten his message was killing him. It was agony; more than yearning for a time machine to let him go back and slap the phone from his own stupid hand, Frank just wanted to be put out of his misery.
“Maybe not ever again,” Joe suggested, doing his best to lighten the mood and only succeeding in making Frank feel worse, “But a short break’s probably not a bad idea.”
The fasten seatbelt sign dinged on above their heads. Stuffing the candy wrappers they’d left behind into his pocket, Frank locked the tray table back into position and shut his eyes tight for the descent back into New York.
His fingers were itching to turn his phone back on. The crawl to the ground was torture, made worse by the fact that they were left taxying on the runway for almost an hour. The entire time his phone spun a slow loading circle in his face tauntingly, searching for service. “Come on,” he muttered, as they inched closer and closer to the gate at a seemingly glacial pace, “Come on, come on.”
His phone finally lit up. Before he could unlock it, his battery winked red at him, and the screen went dark. “Fuck,” he snapped, resisting the urge to hurl the phone into the plane’s aisle, “Piece of shit –”
“Dude,” Joe said from beside him, “Take it easy. I’m telling you, she didn’t even listen to it.”
Frank chewed restlessly on the inside of his cheek as he considered whether that was better or worse. Leaving such a revealing voicemail for Nancy while she was an inch away from death, probably, was a stupid thing to do, sure, but –
A large part of him wanted her to have listened to it. He wanted her to know.
It was something that had kept him up for dozens of sleepless nights. He knew it was a shitty, unfair, selfish thing to want, but he was tired of pretending. He was tired of stealing looks at her whenever he thought no one would notice, tired of being a supportive friend when she complained about Ned, tired of keeping something that invaded his every thought completely to himself.
He knew it was wrong. But he wanted her to know.
“Dude,” Joe said again. Frank could feel his eyes on him even as the plane finally stopped and the rest of first class stood to get their bags. “Tell me you guys are going to pretend like this never happened.”
“I don’t know,” Frank answered quickly – too quickly. He held up his hands in defense as Joe made a disbelieving sound beside him. “It might be too late.”
“Do not do this to yourself,” Joe directed, scrambling over into Frank’s vacant seat as soon as he stood to open the overhead compartment, “You’re going to make yourself crazy. You know that.”
He was already fucking crazy. He already spent every waking moment of his day thinking about her, he already wanted to pull his own hair out when he thought about the fact that Ned would be there to pick her up from the airport when she finally flew home from Colorado Springs, when he realized that he couldn’t be the one to squeeze her tight and say how afraid he’d been for her.
How could it possibly get any worse?
“I need to charge my phone,” was all Frank said as they stepped off the plane and headed for the garage where he’d left his car. “No sense worrying about any of it until we see if she even called me back.”
“Well, she sure didn’t call me,” Joe muttered, throwing his bag into the backseat with more force than was strictly necessary before flinging his body into Frank’s passenger seat with the same emphasis. As they reversed out of the parking lot, he sighed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You know that, right? She still has a boyfriend.”
Frank pursed his lips, eyes on the road. Despite his best efforts not to argue with Joe, the childish, petulant part of himself won out, and he bit back, “Barely.”
“Stop it,” Joe said predictably, “We like Ned. He’s our friend.”
He’s Nancy’s friend, Frank thought rudely, staying pointedly silent as they merged onto the highway that’d take them back to Bayport. Maybe Joe liked Ned, but Frank sure didn’t.
Maybe he’d liked him once, before everything got so complicated. Now he couldn’t quite stop himself from resenting him – hating him, even.
“He’s our friend,” Joe said again firmly when Frank didn’t answer, “And you don’t wanna be that guy.”
Maybe he did. Or – he would, if that was what it took to stop feeling like this. One way or another, he had to know. He’d carried this around for so long that he hadn’t realized how anxious he’d be to see it through to its conclusion.
He always thought that if he ever told Nancy how he felt about her, it’d be when the timing was right. Ned would be out of the picture, and the moment would be perfect – so perfect that it smacked him in the face and screamed do it now. He’d know exactly when the moment would come.
But then he’d found out that she was snowed in with a killer, and all rational thought had flown out the window. He hadn’t stopped to breathe, let alone consider the consequences of blurting out the way he felt about Nancy over the phone, to the stupid voicemail she never even checked. All he’d thought about was the fact that he might never see her again, that something might happen to her without her ever having known.
Either way, it was too late to do anything about it now. The words were out there, selfish and reckless and stupid as they were. And either Nancy was on a plane herself and hadn’t had a chance to look at her phone yet, or she’d already given the message a listen while waiting for her flight and had sent him something in turn.
The drive back to Bayport was a lesson in patience he didn’t want. Forty-five minutes had never felt so long; it took everything he had not to appear as desperate as he felt when Frank was finally able to throw the car in park and head inside.
“You’re home,” his mom said with a smile as he blew past her in the kitchen, barreling ahead to the closest outlet he could find, “How was – honestly, Frank, where’s the fire?”
He opened his bag and tossed his stuff onto the kitchen floor, searching for his phone charger. Distantly, he heard his mom ask Joe, “What on Earth has gotten into your brother?”
“Frank told Nancy he loves her,” Joe announced unceremoniously, just as Frank closed his hand around the wire and fumbled to plug his phone into the outlet. His mom set her teacup down forcefully onto the counter.
“What?”
“Shut up, Joe,” he said over his shoulder, holding his thumb down on the power button like a man possessed. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did,” Joe said patiently, and when Frank finally turned his head he saw Joe standing in front of their mom with his elbows on the kitchen island, shaking his head. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” his mom asked curiously, spoon slowly stirring her tea. Great – might as well add to his mortification. “What do you mean?”
“Her voicemail cut off the message,” Joe explained, “Not sure how much of his word vomit actually made it onto the tape.”
“Shut up, Joe,” Frank said again, as his phone finally blinked on. He watched breathlessly while it took a moment to adjust for the time it’d been disconnected on their flight; the clock updated, first, then his emails, and, finally, everything else.
He didn’t have any missed calls or voicemails. But, as his thumb tapped over to his messages shakily, Frank said, “She texted me.”
Joe and his mother both turned to look at him. “What did she say?”
Hey! Nancy had written, Just wanted to let you know that everything’s fine. Victor’s in custody and I’m safe and sound at the airport :) I’ll call to catch up when I’m home. I wanna hear all about the sub, too!
Frank exhaled, unsure if he was relieved or not. “Well?” Joe demanded, “Did she hear it?”
“I don’t know,” Frank answered, “She didn’t say.”
“Well, what did she say?” asked his mom, her eyes full of concern.
Stiltedly, he read Nancy’s message aloud. “I told you she didn’t listen to it,” Joe said, “And you’d better hope that she doesn’t. The best thing for both of you is to pretend like it didn’t happen.”
With that, Joe turned and headed towards the stairs, leaving him alone in the kitchen with his clothes all over the floor. His mom sighed at him from the kitchen stool. “Oh, Frank. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
He stared dumbly at his phone for a moment, then moved to collect his things. “Don’t be,” he heard himself say, “Joe’s right. It’s... Better for everyone if she never listens to it.”
“Better for you, too?” asked his mom, eyes soft and sympathetic with that sharp edge of knowing that only his mother could have. He hesitated, then shouldered his bag with a nod.
“I’m... gonna go take a shower,” he murmured lamely, making his way to the stairs, too.
Unfortunately, it was a lot harder to drown himself in the shower than he thought it would be. Frank stood under the spray for so long the water turned icy, resisting the urge to bang his head against the tiles as he thought again about what an unbelievable idiot he was.
He threw himself down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, ignoring his damp hair and the towel around his waist. For the first time in a month, silence surrounded him – no snoring, no beeping of a sonar machine, no churning of the ocean waves. Just him and his ugly thoughts.
His phone rang, buzzing on the nightstand. Frank rolled over to grab for it and almost fell out of bed completely when he saw that it was Nancy calling. He rushed to pick up as quickly as possible.
“Hey!” she said brightly, as soon as he answered the phone, “Did you get my text?”
“Uh, yeah,” Frank answered, belatedly realizing that, in all his embarrassment, he’d forgotten to respond. “Sorry, we just got home. I was talking to my mom.”
“Oh, tell her I said hi,” Nancy said. He heard Togo barking in the background. “I just got home, too. My dad picked me up at the airport.”
What about Ned? Had Ned been there, too? “It’s... really good to hear things are okay,” Frank said instead of asking, swallowing the question forcefully. “Joe and I were worried about you.”
“Aw, you guys,” Nancy said, “You’re sweet. But everything was fine. I mean – Victor definitely did lock me in the Faraday Cage and try to electrocute me, but I was able to get out in time. So – no harm done.”
“Uh, what?” Frank demanded, “Very much harm done, actually. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, “You guys know you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I actually don’t know that,” Frank said, on edge as he waited for her to mention the voicemail. “Was there... anything else?”
Nancy hummed. He heard her banging around somewhere – probably in her room, kicking a door open and shut, and then the unmistakable sound of a candy bar wrapper. If he closed his eyes it was like he was there with her, shoving her for squares of her Koko Kringles.
Frank kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“I got to repair the Tesla coil,” she said, “You guys would have died. It was so cool.”
Part of him thought he was probably dying now. “Really?”
“Uh huh,” Nancy said through a mouthful of chocolate, “And get this –”
He listened attentively as she recounted every gory detail of her case, heart in his throat and refusing to settle, even though with every word out of her mouth he was more and more sure Nancy hadn’t actually checked her voicemail. She would’ve mentioned it if she had, surely – it would’ve been the first thing she said, right, an immediate question out of her mouth, or... She would’ve told him off, probably, in the way he knew Joe wanted to. But at no point during their hour-long conversation did she say you know I still have a boyfriend, right, you disgusting creep – and so he found himself eventually calming down, lulled into a false sense of security by Nancy’s gentle voice and the musical sound of her laugh.
“Thanks for always having my back,” she said, right before they hung up. “You’re such a good friend.”
A punch in the face might’ve been kinder.
When he tossed his phone under his bed in a futile attempt to stop himself from thinking about what she’d said, Frank realized that he’d completely missed his opportunity to rip the bandage off and just ask her about it.
Did you get my message? You could’ve said that, idiot.
But maybe this was a conversation they should have in person. It wasn’t like he’d never get the chance to see Nancy again. And even though the thought of having to look at her while they talked made him both simultaneously excited and nauseous, he knew the universe had given him a gift in keeping Nancy from listening to that message – he’d been granted a do-over.
The next time he told her, he was going to do it right.
*
Except that he only got to see Nancy once before she left again for her next adventure.
He and Joe spent a week in River Heights at the beginning of the summer. All their friends were in one place for an extended amount of time, something that almost never happened, and their parents were starting to get sick of them causing trouble at home. ATAC didn’t have any work for them, so they flew out and stayed at Nancy’s and swam in her pool and ate ice cream and cheeseburgers for six unfairly fun days.
Ned was working, and then had football practice, so he wasn’t around a lot.
They had far too good a time.
He thought he might tell her on the last night of their trip before his and Joe’s flight home; Bess and George had gone home and Joe went up to bed, leaving Frank and Nancy alone in the backyard by the fire.
Nancy was in the middle of making her fifth s’more, holding her marshmallow precariously over the fire, staring at it in concentration. I could tell her now, Frank thought, we’re alone.
It’d only been a few months since she’d gotten back from Colorado. She hadn’t mentioned the message, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t listened to it, though he was inclined to believe it was rotting in her inbox like Joe had predicted it would. Nancy was awful at checking her messages.
But he could bring it up. It wouldn’t take much – hardly anything at all. And she looked so pretty in the moonlight, marshmallow and melted chocolate dripping onto her fingers.
“I’m so jealous you and Joe get to go Cuba next month,” Nancy sighed, “You guys are gonna have so much fun.”
“We’re going for a case,” Frank reminded her gently, swallowing the I wish you were coming with us that was slowly crawling its way up his throat. “It’ll be mostly work.”
“Mostly,” Nancy repeated, sniffing. “Not all.”
“I guess,” Frank shrugged, “But it’s not like we can’t ever go back. Who knows; you might have a case there one day, too.”
Maybe they both would, at the same time. It’d been far too long since he’d gotten the chance to work with Nancy. If only they were able to bring her along with them this time.
“Just try not to have too much fun,” she said, grinning at him before dusting off her hands and setting the stick that’d once had her marshmallow on it aside.
“Without you? Never.” He swallowed, staring down into the slowly dying fire. The crackling embers and his own stupid embarrassment made his face feel overheated. “Listen, Nancy,” Frank started slowly, heartbeat fluttering as he considered whether or not now was the perfect moment. Was he really going to do this? “There’s... something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
He darted his gaze nervously over her face, searching for a sign that Nancy knew where he was going. But she only blinked at him earnestly, expression blissfully unaware. “What is it?”
Frank leaned in a little closer beside the fire. “Well,” he said, “Um, the thing is... I just – ah, I’ve sort of... What I mean to say is that I’ve always –”
Nancy was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. He felt himself slowly losing his nerve, his throat starting to close up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Frank rushed to assure her, nodding rapidly, “Totally, um. I – I just, I wanted to tell you... Actually, I guess I wanted to ask you...”
His phone rang suddenly, startling them apart. As Frank fumbled to answer it, he realized that he and Nancy had both been leaning in closer by the fire.
It was Joe calling. Frank sighed. “Yeah?”
“Did I leave my hat down there?” Joe asked pointedly, pushing the words out from between gritted teeth.
He frowned. Joe hadn’t been wearing a hat today. He twisted around to look at the house and found his brother glaring menacingly at him from the second floor window. “I don’t see it.”
“Well, maybe you should,” Joe said, then hung up.
“Was that Joe?” Nancy asked bemusedly, “I thought he went to bed.”
“He thought maybe he left his hat down here,” Frank explained, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. Despite the disastrous mess of his life, he was almost grateful they’d been interrupted.
“Joe wasn’t wearing a hat.” Nancy was still staring at him like he’d gone out of his mind. He forced the most casual shrug he could muster.
“You know Joe.” Hopefully by tomorrow Nancy would completely forget this conversation had ever happened.
He knew it was unlikely, but he could hope.
“Anyway, I should head up to bed, too,” Frank continued when she didn’t answer, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Need help with the fire?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. I might read a little.” Nancy looked like she had absolutely no intention of moving from the chair she was sprawled in. The glow of the fire danced across her freckled face, and the smile she sent his way was sweet as she waved him off.
God, he loved her. He loved her so much it was painful to look at her.
With a tight nod, he forced himself to walk away, grateful that the sprawling expanse of Nancy’s home meant he didn’t have to share a room with Joe, for once, or a bathroom, for that matter, and that there was no one around to judge him when he jerked off in the shower and face planted into bed.
He lied in the dark for hours in agony, staring at the ceiling. It was impossible not to over-analyze each of his and Nancy’s interactions from the entire trip so he didn’t bother avoiding it, letting his mind run wild.
In the morning, Nancy acted normal at breakfast so he did, too, eyes resolutely on his cereal while Joe glared daggers into the side of his head.
The rest of the trip passed without incident and a week later he and Joe went to Cuba to search for a missing artifact that they found with only minimal drama, accidentally busting an international smuggling ring while they were at it.
They were both sunburned and exhausted when they arrived stateside for debriefing, and Frank shook off the feeling of deja vu as he checked his messages while they wandered through the parking garage, trying to remember where Joe had left the car.
“This is why you never get to drive,” Frank reminded him, frowning down at his phone. He hadn’t had the international cell phone plan while they were away, and yet there were no messages waiting for him from Nancy. Not one.
They’d been in Cuba for three weeks.
“I’m sure it was on this level,” Joe said confidently, while Frank chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating whether or not he should text her.
He should, right?
Maybe he shouldn’t.
Screw it, he thought, as they climbed the stairs up another level in the garage. His thumbs tapped out a message that seemed innocuous enough.
We just got back. You are going to flip when you hear about some of the ciphers. Call me when you get this. There. That was casual – exactly the sort of thing they’d always send each other back and forth.
No need to read it over a thousand times obsessively before pressing ‘send...’
Okay, maybe once or twice.
“Aha!” Joe declared suddenly, drawing up short. Frank bumped into him, startled, and looked up from his phone.
His thumb slipped on the screen, and he winced as he heard the telltale swoop that signaled an outgoing message. Well, too late to re-edit it now. Frank blinked as he realized they were surrounded by other people’s cars. “Aha what?”
“Hear that?” In the distance, a car alarm was blaring. Joe grinned as he lifted the car keys, inclining his head towards the noise. “Come on.”
He jogged off before Frank could protest, backpack bouncing while he went.
With one last glance at his phone and a heavy sigh, Frank shouldered his own bag and followed.
*
Nancy didn’t text him back for a few days. Then a few weeks. And eventually a few months.
He tried calling her what was probably too many times, sent emails, obsessively stared at his phone for hours willing it to ring... But he didn’t hear from her for so long he would’ve worried something was wrong, if it weren’t for the way Joe kept in touch with Bess and Ned and George, and no one ever mentioned anything untoward.
They never mentioned Nancy at all, actually, which drove him crazy. He felt like he spent every group video call obsessively waiting for someone to bring her up so he could have an excuse to ask about her, but they didn’t, and so he spent the rest of the summer and most of the fall completely in the dark, until Joe told him one day at the end of October that Bess had invited them out to River Heights for Halloween.
Just as he opened his mouth, Joe rolled his eyes at him and said, “Nancy’s not around. She just left to go find some missing girl in Georgia.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” he protested lamely, resisting the urge to check his phone again. Why hadn’t Nancy tried to reach out? It’d been months.
Part of him wondered if maybe she’d finally checked her voicemail. A year later seemed right on track, where Nancy was concerned. Maybe she hadn’t called him because she felt sorry for him.
Or maybe, the tiniest spark of hope from somewhere deep within suggested, she feels the same way, and hasn’t figured out how to tell you, yet.
He knew it was unlikely and yet he entertained the thought all the same. He wanted it to be true. God, how he wanted it to be true.
Maybe Nancy’s case would wrap early. How hard was it to find one missing girl anyway?
Except that things started to go wrong from the moment they landed at O’Hare. Everything in the area reminded him of Nancy, which was his own fault, but Frank was still in a bad mood when Bess and her sister picked them up that only worsened when Bess said, “Ned’s meeting us at my house,” and then, later on in the drive from the airport, “Nancy has been a mess ever since she got back from Scotland.”
He and Joe exchanged glances in the backseat. “Scotland?” Frank asked, while Maggie hissed a warning, “Bess.”
“Sorry, I forgot!” Bess said, “Cat’s out of the bag, now. She didn’t tell you guys?” She glanced up at the rearview mirror in obvious surprise. Frank stared back at her blankly. “It’s a pretty long story. Turns out her mom was a spy. And she didn’t die in a car crash; she was killed by this terrorist group. Nancy had to, like, defuse a bomb and stuff.”
“What?” Frank gaped at her, then turned to look at his brother again. The look on Joe’s face mirrored the way he felt perfectly. Nancy had never mentioned a word of any of it to either of them. Was that why she hadn’t called? “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, it was really intense. Nancy found all these letters and notes she’d left, and she said the spy agency she worked for had dossiers on all of us. Gosh, what was the name of it again? Something with a c.”
“Nancy’s mom was with Cathedral?” Joe asked, his eyes enormous. “I can’t believe that.”
“Cathedral! Yeah, that was it,” Bess said, squinting at a traffic light that had just turned yellow before deliberately accelerating to push them through it. “Anyway, it was crazy. Ned had to break into her house for her to steal some of her mom’s old notes from her dad. Then Nancy’s dad caught him and he was so pissed.”
Frank shifted sullenly in the backseat. Why hadn’t Nancy called them? He wouldn’t have gotten caught. Joe kicked his shin just as Frank’s lips pulled into a scowl, and he pressed them together instead, turning his head to stare out the window.
His thoughts drifted as he considered how Nancy must be feeling. He couldn’t imagine the shock uncovering so much would have brought with it. Nancy hardly ever mentioned her mom, but learning that everything she’d known about her was a lie couldn’t have been easy.
He tapped his fingers on his knee as he resisted the urge to reach for his phone and text her. It was obvious she didn’t want to talk to him about this.
That didn’t stop him from stewing over it, and though he knew he was in no mood to go to a party it was too late to turn back – so that was how he found himself sitting morosely in Bess’ basement with a warm beer in his hand, halfheartedly nodding along to some story Bess’ probably-very-pretty, but still-brunette-and-without-a-secret-spy-for-a-mother cousin was telling him.
Eventually he made his excuses and stepped outside for some air, leaning over the railing of Bess’ back porch to glare (admittedly, dramatically) off into the night.
He only had about five minutes of peace before Joe found him sulking.
Joe stepped up beside him at the porch and dangled his own gangly arms over the railing. Frank could feel his brother’s gaze on his face, but he kept his own eyes resolutely on the moon, even when Joe asked, “You okay?” and he felt his face contort into a scowl again.
“She should’ve told us,” Frank said immediately, fingers curling around the wood on the deck. “I can’t believe that’s why we haven’t heard from her.”
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Joe shrug beside him. “Maybe she didn’t know what to say.”
She told Ned, Frank thought viciously, but didn’t say out loud. He didn’t need Joe giving him that look – didn’t need him reminding Frank that of course she’d told Ned, because Ned was her boyfriend. “So, what? She was never going to take our calls ever again? If she’d’ve told us about Cathedral, we could’ve dug into it for her.”
“Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell us,” Joe said quietly, “Maybe they had dossiers on us, too.”
Of course that thought had crossed his mind. He’d stared at himself in Bess’ bathroom mirror for ten minutes when they’d first arrived, thinking about all the shit that was likely to be in his.
Frank sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “If we needed help, we would’ve asked her. She could’ve asked us.”
“Maybe she didn’t want help.” Joe was being too fair about this, and the role reversal felt strange. “Maybe she felt like she needed to do it alone.”
“Obviously not alone,” Frank said bitterly, before he could stop himself. “Just not with me.”
Joe was quiet for a moment. Frank could feel him staring at him, but kept his glare fixed resolutely on the stars. What a stupid, clear night. What was the weather like in Georgia, he wondered? What was Nancy looking at, all those miles away, while he stood in her neighborhood feeling sorry for himself?
“You have to stop,” Joe told him gently, “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Right,” Frank sighed, suddenly exhausted, “Stop, right. I hadn’t thought of that. Perfect, I’ll just stop. That was easy.”
Joe scoffed a little, the sound reproachful in the back of his throat. “You know what I mean.”
He hooked his elbows over the porch railing, scrubbing his hands over his face. “You don’t think I’ve tried?” he demanded, pressing his fingers into his eyes, “I’ve tried everything. It’s impossible.”
“You could date someone else,” Joe suggested. “Bess’ cousin seemed into you.”
Frank’s lips twisted. Joe chuckled from beside him.
“Well, you could at least go talk to her,” he amended. Frank finally turned to look at him and found his shoulders pulled up in an easy shrug. “I don’t know. I wish I knew the magic words, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Frank said immediately, feeling suddenly guilty that he was ruining Joe’s fun, yet again. He shook his head. “It’s my own stupid fault. Go back inside, I’m right behind you.”
Joe gave him one last searching look, seemed to come to the conclusion that he didn’t believe Frank for a second, then turned around anyway. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, disappearing back inside.
Frank leaned down to bump his forehead against the railing. His life was a disaster, he thought, then promptly grew annoyed with himself for worrying about his own stupid problems and his own stupid feelings when Nancy’s entire world had been turned upside down, after she’d already been through so much.
He felt like an asshole. No wonder she didn’t think she could call him.
He refused to look at his phone as he went back into Bess’ basement and grabbed another drink, carefully avoiding Ned in favor of making more small talk with Bess and her cousin and anyone else at the party who seemed willing to stay on the other side of the room.
Unfortunately, Frank’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning, even when he drank so much the house started to follow it, too. He fell asleep in the middle of reanalyzing the last conversation he’d had with Nancy, arguing silently with himself, and woke up hungover and angry all over again.
If Joe was as bothered by Nancy’s radio silence as he was, he didn’t show it. He dragged Bess hiking, for fuck’s sake, every day they spent in River Heights, while Frank counted down the week until their flight back to New York and tried not to wonder whether or not Nancy would find that missing girl before he had to go home and pack for his next case.
He had no idea what he would say to her if she did. He knew it was horrible, but part of him sort of hoped the girl stayed missing for just a little while longer – just until he could sort out his emotions.
It didn’t help that Bess spent the time she wasn’t hiking with Joe either at Ned’s or on the phone with Nancy, talking loudly enough that he could sometimes hear snippets of their conversation even when he had his headphones in. Having the fact that Nancy knew perfectly well how to use the phone to call the rest of their friends shoved in his face was unpleasant, to say the least, especially when he was sure the topic of how they’d all spent Halloween must have come up at some point.
But Nancy didn’t ask after him, or at least, Bess never mentioned if she did. She hardly said a word about Nancy at all, and then their vacation was up and they flew home without even stopping by Nancy’s house.
And Frank’s phone didn’t ring.
Callie picked them up from the airport, this time, so there was no wandering around trying to find the car. She had her dog in the front passenger seat, and when he and Joe slid into the back, she threw a duffel bag at his head unceremoniously.
Frank unzipped it, frowning when he found it stuffed with a mix of his and Joe’s clothes. Before he could ask, Callie cheerfully said, “Change of plans.”
The plan had been for her to stop by their house so they could pack before the drive upstate to her uncle’s for their next case. Frank bit back a groan; all he wanted to do was shower and mope in his own room for one hour before they ran off again.
“Wow, his house must be really haunted,” Joe exclaimed excitedly, pulling the bag from Frank’s hands and dropping it on the floor by his feet. Sunshine stuck her head into the backseat and panted happily when Joe rubbed over her floppy ears.
“He found a dead body in his back garden,” Callie said, her voice flat. That gave them both pause, though Frank saw she was almost smiling when he met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “What’s got you so grumpy?”
He scowled, averting his gaze to the window. Sunshine jumped into the backseat and shoved herself between the two of them, leaning her head on Frank’s knee. Begrudgingly, he dropped his hand to her head to pet her.
Callie turned her look on Joe instead. “What’s wrong with him?”
“The drive to your uncle’s place isn’t long enough,” Joe answered good-naturedly, leaning over the front passenger seat to look around. “Did you bring any snacks? They were out of pretzels on the plane.”
“In the console,” Callie answered, leaning down to look at the road under Joe’s flailing arms. “Let me guess, it’s about Nancy.”
Frank scowled harder at the passing highway. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s always about Nancy,” Callie laughed. “Come on, Frank. You haven’t even asked me about my uncle’s haunted murder house.”
“Because there’s no such thing as a haunted house?” He folded his arms across his chest, immediately regretting his defensiveness when he saw Joe settle back into his seat with a full bag of Doritos. Just to be contrary, he asked, “Who died?”
“His dog walker.” Callie pulled a face in the mirror. “Neighborhood girl. Sweet kid. Medical examiner still hasn’t determined a cause of death.”
“Cool,” Joe said around a mouthful of chips. Generously, he held the bag out to Frank without a word. “Haunted to death?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Frank said, grabbing a handful of Doritos. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
“Me too,” Callie grinned, “Which is why I want to hear about your girl drama instead. Please, Frank.”
“Look, it’s a long story,” he sighed. Plus, he hardly thought he should run around telling anyone who’d listen that Kate Drew was a member of Cathedral killed in a terrorist attack. “You know the gist. I love Nancy, Nancy loves Ned. It’s hardly a Greek tragedy.”
“She’s been dodging our calls,” Joe explained, while Frank was still stuck on how good it felt just to say the words out loud – just to tell someone, to not have them weighing so heavily on his chest. I love Nancy.
“I dodge your calls,” Callie said, pouting playfully, “You don’t sulk over me.”
“I wish he would sulk over literally anyone else,” Joe agreed, fingertips caked with orange powder. He shoved another Dorito in his mouth gracelessly. “Can’t get it to happen.”
“By all means, talk about me like I’m not here,” Frank said, his own hand itching to reach for his phone and check his messages. Not that it mattered. He knew there wouldn’t be any. “How long until we get there, anyway?”
“Fine, change the subject,” Callie sighed, glancing down at her phone. “Just two more hours. Your mom told me to make sure you both wear jackets when we’re outside.”
“Assuming we don’t get haunted to death as soon as we arrive,” Joe said. The familiarity of his insistence made Frank’s lips twitch.
“Of course,” Callie drawled – that was familiar, too. His shoulders relaxed, and Sunshine, sensing his changing mood, flopped further into his lap.
Frank settled in for the drive, looking back out the window again. Maybe the case would be a nice break from thinking about Nancy.
*
Nancy called him after they’d been there for twelve hours.
He’d left his phone charging in the guest room while he searched the grounds of Mr. Shaw’s estate, and came back before lunch to find he had a missed call from her but no messages. Sweaty and dirty from poking around where he shouldn’t have been, Frank almost dropped his phone as his hands grew clammy, too.
“What?” Joe asked excitedly. “Did you see a ghost?”
“Nancy called me.” So, sort of. It had been ages since he’d last spoken to her. Months and months.
Joe’s grin slid off his face. “What?”
Frank chewed on his bottom lip. “She didn’t leave a message,” he said slowly, “It was probably an accident.”
Joe stared at him. “Frank.”
“I’m not calling her again,” he said stubbornly, although talking to her was the only fucking thing he could think about. “I’ve called her a thousand times since we got back from Cuba. If she really wanted to talk, she’d’ve left a message. Or she’ll call back.”
“Frank,” Joe said again, sighing heavily. “You’re –”
He pushed past him, heading for the ornate desk tucked under the window. “You didn’t tell me Callie dropped off the blueprints.”
Joe rolled his eyes, looking very much like he wanted to scream. “Yeah, well, your phone was up here,” he said pointedly.
Frank ignored him, unrolling the blueprints of the estate and spreading them out across the desk. After a moment, Joe stood beside him and leaned in to study the paper.
“There,” Frank said, rapping his knuckles against an unlabeled passageway. “We’ll have to find a way in and see where it goes.”
“I’ll ask Callie if she knows anything about it,” Joe offered, taking a picture on his phone. He bumped his shoulder into Frank’s none too gently. “Call her,” he stressed, then grabbed his jacket and left the room.
Frank leaned against the desk, staring out the window. He felt sticky from sweating out in the cold and unsettled. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to call her. He did, even if he still had no idea what they were supposed to say to each other. How did you break the ice, when the girl you were madly in love with ghosted you for six months?
He ran a hand through his hair, contemplating his cell phone where it sat innocently across the room, charging. What if she didn’t call back? What if this was her checking a box, calling him so that they could be free to grow apart with her conscious clear because she’d lobbed the ball back into his court? Was he really going to give her an out, just like that?
His stomach turned over at the thought, then again when he considered actually dialing her phone number and talking to her, after so long without hearing her voice. Forget what they were going to say – what about everything he wasn’t going to say?
Just as he made up his mind to reach for his phone, something out the window in the front yard glinted in the sun, catching his eye. It looked metallic, shiny out in the grass…
Frank blinked. He didn’t bother to grab his jacket as he ran outside.
Moments later he was shivering as Callie turned the gun over in her gloved hands. “It looks like something out of a museum,” she said, holding it by the barrel between her thumb and forefinger.
“Hold it by the handle,” Frank directed, flinching away when she lifted it, pointing off into the empty yard. “Not like that.”
“Judging by the markings, I’d guess late eighteenth century,” Joe interjected. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Exactly the sort of thing a ghost would use.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “How would a ghost even hold a gun?” he asked, against his better judgment.
Callie grinned. “That’s obviously how it wound up on the ground, Frank.”
Joe snapped his fingers at her, nodding eagerly. “Okay, yes. Yes.”
“No,” Frank sighed. “Stop it. Let’s go dust it upstairs, I’m freezing.”
“Mom said to wear your jacket,” Joe reminded him snidely. Callie snickered while the three of them made their way inside.
He could kill Joe out here, probably. There’d already been one murder on the property, which was a good cover up. No one would have to know.
Like she could read his mind, Callie smirked at him. She left the gun on the desk as soon as the three of them stepped into the guest room, standing off to the side while Joe rooted around for his fingerprinting kit.
Frank remained frozen by the bed, staring at his phone. Nancy had texted him while they’d been out in the yard.
Hi, she said, I tried calling you this morning. I know you’re on a case, but call me back when you get a minute.
It was weird, how he was still breathing even though his heart had stopped. Frank’s brain was short-circuiting so violently that he didn’t even notice Callie as she hooked her chin over his shoulder and read Nancy’s text out loud to Joe.
Joe frowned where he was carefully dusting the gun. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It sounds like a break up text,” Callie said, oblivious to the way her words made him want to throw up, “She said everything but ‘we need to talk.’”
“Stop, he’ll have an embolism.” Joe’s tone was mild, even though Frank was certain he was already in the middle of one. “Also, there’s no fucking prints on this gun. You know who wouldn’t leave behind any prints? A ghost.”
Frank shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Callie hadn’t packed him any razors, and his stubble was already starting to grow in. “Whoever dropped it was smart enough not to leave them behind.”
Joe and Callie both stared at him. He blinked back at them until he realized what their expectant gazes were asking, and then felt his face flush hot with embarrassment. “I’ll call her back later,” Frank promised. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“You are so very stupid,” Callie said sincerely, and Joe made a sound of agreement before the chamber clicked and six bullets tumbled out onto the desk. “That thing was loaded?”
Joe frowned over at him, then tossed one of the bullets over to Frank, who caught it out of midair, rolling it back and forth over his thumb. He shook his head.
“They’re blanks,” Joe told Callie. His head tilted to the side as he mulled over his thoughts. Then he said, “Probably not something a ghost would use,” and that was a victory, sweet enough to stop him from thinking about Nancy for even just a few minutes.
*
By some miracle, Frank managed to wait until after everyone else on the property had gone to bed before he gave in and called Nancy.
He’d left Joe snoring in the guest room and was sitting in his sweatpants in the library, all the lights turned on with an additional gas lamp lit for good measure. Just because he didn’t believe Mr. Shaw’s estate was actually haunted didn’t mean he wanted to invite trouble.
Still, Frank stared at the bookshelves for so long, turning his phone over in his hand, that it was late by the time he actually plucked up the courage to dial, figuring Nancy was probably asleep and that their game of phone tag would last for a few more hours.
But Nancy picked up. The phone rang only twice before it was interrupted by her voice, her cautious “Hello?” still completely casual and breezy where he was already starting to sweat.
“Hey,” Frank said, clearing his throat. Why did his voice sound so high? “It’s me.”
“Frank,” Nancy said, sounding pleased. “I’m glad you called.”
The statement surprised a laugh out of him, though he did his best to cover it with a cough once he remembered this call wasn’t about his hurt feelings and felt a sharp spike of guilt flare. “Sorry,” he said, after there was a pointed, stretched silence, “It’s just that… I’ve probably called you a hundred times, by now.”
“Yeah,” Nancy said quietly, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Frank pushed a hand through his hair, teeth worrying his bottom lip. With just a second’s hesitation, he continued, “Bess told us about Scotland.”
“She mentioned that,” Nancy sighed.
When she seemed unlikely to say anything else Frank hummed, searching for a way to lighten the mood. “You’re gonna give a guy a complex, Nancy,” was what he settled on, after a moment. “You don’t call when you get tossed in jail for arson, you don’t call when your dad’s office needs breaking into… Joe and I have kind of been honing those skill sets, you know.”
He winced into the dark. He’d meant to bring up Joe as a deflection, but even he could hear how the words sounded: needy and niggling, pathetically begging for an answer to the question that had been keeping him up at night. Why hadn’t she called? Why hadn’t she wanted his help?
Nancy laughed, though it sounded forced. “Twice is a pattern, I guess,” she mused, tone still breezy, “Or is it three times?”
Frank tipped his head back against the armchair, closing his eyes. He was so tired. “Nancy.”
He could practically feel her defensiveness all the way in Albany. “What do you want me to say? I get it, I didn’t call you.”
In fact, she’d called Ned both times. That was an answer all on its own, surely. “Forget it,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “Sorry I couldn’t answer this morning. We just got in last night.”
“I heard,” Nancy said stiltedly, like her mind was still on their almost-argument. “Me, too. We must’ve passed through the airport just a few hours apart.”
“Must have,” Frank echoed, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed. “How was Georgia?”
“Um.” Nancy laughed again, more nervously this time. “Strange. Can’t say it was all that fun.”
“But it turned out?” he asked, “You found the girl?”
“Jessalyn,” Nancy supplied, “And, yes. Turns out she was never actually missing in the first place. Just hiding.”
“Jeez,” he tsk’d. Talk about a wasted effort. All that worrying and wondering what Nancy had been up to for nothing. “Was it at least interesting?”
“That’s definitely one way to put it,” Nancy said distractedly. “I’m heading back to check in next month.”
“Sounds fun. Guess it couldn’t have been that bad, then.” He’d probably had a worse time in River Heights, pretending to enjoy himself at Bess’ Halloween party.
“I guess.” Nancy’s tone was vague. She was hardly being forthcoming with her answers; Frank was starting to feel like he was interrogating a suspect.
Jesus. Was this what things between them were going to be like, now? Awkward and unnatural, with so much mess impossible to ignore.
“Tell me about your case,” she prompted abruptly, like she was thinking the same thing. Nancy seemed as desperate for a return to form as he felt.
Frank wrestled with the urge to give her every last detail and the knowledge that he should play things cool. Nancy always knew everything about him and what he was up to, and here he was with no answers about Scotland or Georgia or why Nancy hadn’t fucking called him, not even once.
“Well, there’s not much, yet. It’s Callie’s uncle’s place upstate. At first I thought it was nothing, but then a body turned up in his back garden.”
Nancy exhaled. “Callie?” she repeated, which, in his opinion, was certainly not the part of the sentence to focus on.
“Callie Shaw,” Frank said. “I think you might’ve met once, when you came to Bayport. I kind of owed her one, on account of the whole…”
Frank trailed off, frowning at the bookshelves. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever told Nancy about the whole…
Mercifully, Nancy didn’t ask. “Yes, we met,” was all she said, sounding sort of funny before she cleared her throat and continued, “Sorry, did you say he found a body?”
“Yeah, his neighbor. They still haven’t figured out what killed her. I guess that’s on my list now, too,” Frank realized, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea of where to start. Probably with breaking into the medical examiner’s office, he imagined. Maybe Callie could bring them into town in the morning.
“And Joe’s with you?” Nancy asked, yet again ignoring the bits about the murder. Frank felt his frown deepen.
“Uh huh,” he confirmed slowly. “He’s asleep, now, but I’m sure he’d love to hear from you, too.”
“Right, no, of course.” Silence fell between them. “I really am sorry, Frank.”
Neither of them were the sort of person to offer up apologies freely. Still, part of him wasn’t sure if the words were good enough – they hardly changed anything, after all. A larger part of him was disgusted for even thinking so; Nancy didn’t need to apologize after everything she’d been through.
“It’s fine,” he heard his voice say unconvincingly, “Just… you know you can tell me anything, right? That we’d help you with whatever you needed, whenever you needed it? All you have to do is ask.”
“I know,” Nancy said softly, “I guess that’s the part I struggle with. Especially after what happened in Colorado.”
Frank’s cheeks warmed at just the mention of the state. He didn’t want to think about what had happened when Nancy was in Colorado. “We were worried, sure, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still help.”
“I know,” Nancy said again, sounding amused, this time, “I got your messages.”
Frank felt his heart skitter to a stop. He could swear his blood ran cold. “What?”
“Just the other day,” she continued obliviously, like he wasn’t on the knife’s edge of a panic attack. “I guess I should get better at checking my voicemail. It was mostly Joe, you know. Run as far as possible from where you are. And then you saying to be careful and that you wanted to tell me something. Any chance you remember what it was?”
Oh, no. He was going to throw up all over Mr. Shaw’s library.
Of course he fucking remembered what it was. All he’d done for the last year was try to forget, and he’d failed over and over again, even though he spent half of it being completely ignored by Nancy.
Frank opened his mouth to say anything at all and found his mind utterly blank. He had nothing.
He could tell the truth, maybe. It was far from the right moment, but it was a moment, wasn’t it? He had an opportunity to be brave. Didn’t that count for anything?
“No,” he lied, before he could actually convince himself to do something as stupid as be honest with Nancy now. His mouth was dry. “Sorry. It was a while ago.”
“Yeah,” Nancy hummed, “I figured. Remind me to tease Joe about his meltdown the next time I see him, though.”
“Sure,” Frank said, already knowing there was no chance he would. The reason Joe had been the one to talk on the phone was because he’d been too paralyzed by the fear that something would happen to Nancy, and then dying from his own embarrassment. Joe had done him a favor – one of many. “Offer still stands, anyway. Anytime, anywhere.”
“Thanks.” Nancy sounded so genuinely grateful that he knew what the next words out of her mouth were going to be before she said them, and braced himself for their razor-sharp impact. “You’re a really great friend, Frank.” She was so sincere, too. “A better one than I deserve.”
“Don’t say that.” His pulse, which had been racing ever since Nancy had first said the word messages, was still pounding. He felt like his head was going to explode. He wished she wouldn’t say any of it. “I get why you didn’t call. I can’t imagine what I would’ve done.”
Nancy laughed. “That’s sweet of you to say, but you would’ve called me immediately.”
She was right. Maybe it should have stung, that he was so transparent and Nancy knew him so well, but instead, Frank just felt warm. It was nice to think that Nancy was aware of his blind devotion, even if it was unrequited. “Of course it bothers me,” he admitted lowly, feeling wrong for even saying as much out loud, “But I understand. And – you know Joe and I… know a bit about Cathedral.” To say the least. “If you ever have questions.”
“I just might take you up on that, one day,” Nancy said, her sentence morphing into a yawn at its end. Frank felt his lips pull up into a soft smile. “Not yet, though. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” Frank lowered his voice to match Nancy’s, glancing down at his watch. It was getting late. Joe and Callie were sure to be rotten tomorrow about how tired he’d inevitably be.
But he didn’t say a word about the time.
“You don’t always have to be so understanding,” Nancy said. Her tone was hard to place.
He held back a sigh. If only she knew the truth – that he’d been plenty angry with her, and upset, sulking in River Heights and ranting and raving to Joe until his brother had gotten sick of him. Yet he could never bring himself to be anything but tender with Nancy herself, a fatal flaw to his own fucking aching heart. “Well, I’m not going to tell you off,” Frank scoffed.
“You must want to,” Nancy challenged.
“Nancy, stop.” His thumb and forefinger pressed into his eyes.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” she pressed.
“Nancy,” he said again, more firmly this time. “Jesus, it’s fine. Just don’t leave me hanging for so long next time, alright? Call me.”
There was a suspicious silence, and then an even more curious little sniff. He wondered if his connection was bad, and resolved not to mention it to Joe, who’d most certainly claim ghosts as the cause. “Alright,” Nancy said, “I will.”
“Good,” Frank smiled. He glanced at his watch again, then settled further into the armchair, lowering the oil lamp on the table beside him. “Tell me more about Georgia, then? Bess hardly said a word about the case.”
“Well, it was sort of like solving two mysteries at once,” Nancy started excitedly, and then she was off, without even a pause for breath, the same way as always.
Just like that, everything felt normal again. Even the ache in his chest was back to its familiar dullness, weighty and pressing hard on his ribs.
Maybe there was something seriously wrong with him. He’d actually missed it.
*
Predictably, Joe and Callie teased him mercilessly at breakfast. They made countless jokes about his facial hair and the bags under his eyes, and when Frank made it to the bottom of his bowl of oatmeal Joe said, “I still can’t believe you’re not going to tell me what she said.”
“Us,” Callie corrected, pushing what was left of her cereal across the table to Frank, too.
“Yeah, but I’m your brother,” Joe stressed, as Frank shrugged and shoveled a spoonful of Callie’s cereal into his mouth. “Does blood mean nothing to you, Frank?”
“Could you both save your dramatics for someone who cares?” he asked between bites, “I already told you she didn’t have an explanation, didn’t say anything about Scotland, and that the girl she was looking for in Georgia was never actually missing. That was pretty much it.”
Joe peered at him suspiciously. “Really?” he asked, and that was all it took. Frank folded like a house of cards.
“She listened to her voicemail,” he admitted, a little satisfied by the way Joe’s eyes widened and how he coughed up bits of his fourth blueberry muffin.
“What?” Joe demanded, loudly and theatrically.
“You left her a voicemail?” Callie asked curiously. Her voice sounded carefully innocent, meaning Joe had definitely already told her what he’d done.
“Oh my god, start from the beginning,” Joe said, gasping for breath.
Frank did. When he finished, both Joe and Callie were staring at him like he was a complete idiot. Callie was the one to break the silence shared between them. “You said no?”
Frank blinked. “Well, yeah. It wasn’t the right time.”
Joe and Callie made annoyed noises in tandem. Frank turned to his brother, eyebrows arched high. “You agree with her?”
“I mean, no,” Joe said. “In theory, definitely not. Nancy has a boyfriend, and we like Ned.” Frank and Callie exchanged a look over his head. Joe rolled his eyes. “We like Ned,” he said again, “But, dude. In actuality? That was your opening.”
Frank felt his expression contort into one of confusion. “You think I should have told her?”
“Yes,” Joe and Callie said in unison, voices twin echoes of exasperation. Fondly, Callie added, “You moron.”
Was he a moron? It was hard to tell, lately, which decisions were moronic or not. Lately he felt very stupid all the time. “I don’t think so,” Frank countered, though he sounded unsure. “I think it was a sign her voicemail cut me off. God knows someone should have.”
“Details,” Joe said, waving a hand at him. “But, whatever. You’re probably never going to tell her.”
“Probably,” Frank agreed, and then, as he reached the bottom of Callie’s cereal bowl, “I want to break into the medical examiner’s office today.”
Excitingly, both Callie and Joe seemed on board with the idea, and even a little eager to potentially examine the body. Maybe there was something seriously wrong with all three of them.
It didn’t take long for them to find their opening. The coroner went to lunch early and they left Joe in the administrative office to make a copy of the report while Frank and Callie slipped unnoticed into the examination room, wandering down the row of lockers until they reached the one they were looking for.
Callie pulled the body out unceremoniously. Mr. Shaw’s neighbor was a young adult who had obviously been very pretty before she died, with long hair that was now tied behind her neck, which was pale and cold. Her eyes were closed, making the freckles on her eyelids stand out starkly.
“When I was talking to Nancy,” Frank said, mind wandering as he and Callie scanned their eyes down the body, looking for anything amiss, “She said you’d met before. But I don’t remember –”
“It was when she came to Bayport,” Callie interjected. She glanced up, then turned away. “I’m not seeing anything, are you?”
Frank sighed. He wasn’t sure he even knew what he was looking for. He shook his head. “No.” He folded his arms while Callie closed the locker and put the keys back where they’d found them. “Thing is, she was only in Bayport for two days, and we spent pretty much the entire time investigating that break-in downtown.”
“I came by to drop something off for your mom,” Callie explained. “You and Joe were up the street with your dad.” That, Frank remembered. Their dad had their neighbor show the both of them how to open a locked window from the outside without leaving behind a sign of forced entry, figuring it’d help with the case. It had. “Nancy was in the kitchen. I talked to your mom for a few minutes and left.”
As they started quietly down the hallway back towards where they’d left Joe, Frank realized Nancy had never mentioned the interaction to him before last night. “Huh.”
When he glanced over at Callie, he saw her biting at the inside of her cheek. “Thing is,” she said hesitantly, “That was right after we’d gone out. Remember, you took me to that concert?”
Frank nodded. He and Callie had been friends forever – at the time, dating had seemed like a natural evolution of their relationship. He’d always been fixated on Nancy, but back then, he hadn’t realized it meant he was in love with her, and stupidly thought there was a chance he might even be happy dating someone else. He and Callie had two days of trying to see if it might work between them before Nancy turned up in Bayport and recaptured his full attention.
Callie had never had any hard feelings about it. Mostly, she seemed to think his pining was pathetic. “Well, your mom asked me how it’d gone. Nancy was sort of weird about it. I guess I never thought about why, even after you told me…” Callie trailed off with a shrug. “How’d it come up, anyway?”
He drew up short in the hallway, actually coming to a stop. Frank’s sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor. “Uh,” he said eloquently, “I mentioned you were up here with me. Weird is a good word for it. She asked if Joe was here, too. I kept bringing up the murder, but, um.”
Callie looked at him very carefully. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” she said. Then, she shook her head and snorted quietly to herself. “Of course Nancy wants to have her cake and eat it too.”
“It’s not like that,” Frank protested immediately, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about it. Now that he turned her tone over in his mind, perhaps she had sounded… jealous. Could that be right?
“It’s exactly like that,” Callie argued, waving him off carelessly, “But you’ve never had any sense of self-preservation.”
He huffed. Before he could say anything else, they reached the administrative office and knocked once on the door, which parted for Joe to slip out into the hall with them. He very obviously had a manila folder stuffed under the front of his shirt. “Find anything?”
Frank shook his head. Silently, the three of them made their way to the back door they’d left cracked, and slunk into the alley behind the office building.
“What’d you get?” Callie asked Joe just as soon as they all got in the car. He passed the folder over to Frank with his eyebrows bouncing.
Frank opened the folder to a blood toxicology report. No sooner had he frowned deeply at the page’s contents did Callie demand, “What? What is it?”
“She was poisoned,” Joe declared triumphantly from the backseat, as though he’d come to some great breakthrough.
Callie reached over and smacked Frank’s arm, hard. “Say more.”
“Oleander,” Frank murmured, eyes still scanning the page. “Makes sense. Her body was found in the garden.”
“Makes a little too much sense, if you ask me,” said Joe, just like Frank knew he would.
“Occam’s Razor,” Frank reminded him, as he had so many times before. Joe scoffed loudly.
“Flip to page two.”
Frank did, and found himself looking at the forensic examiner’s notes. He sighed heavily.
“Oh my god, what?” Callie demanded again, staring at him when they rolled to a stop at a red light.
“Her body was moved,” he said grimly, wincing when Joe pumped the air behind him. “She didn’t die in your uncle’s garden.”
*
It took them about two weeks to wrap up in Albany. Nancy texted him a handful of times and Frank made his best efforts to respond to her even though he was busier than pretty much ever before, and when all was said and done, he and Joe and Callie had actually had a lot of fun uncovering what was really behind the ghosts in Mr. Shaw’s house and solving the murder of his dogwalker.
Mr. Shaw was more than appreciative of the help, shaking both their hands enthusiastically while Callie gassed up the car for the drive back to Bayport. “I can’t thank you enough,” he told the both of them for the fifth or sixth time over a cup of coffee in the sprawling kitchen. “I know you said this was a favor to Callie, but please, let me give you something for your troubles. What are your usual rates?”
He and Joe looked at each other dumbly. “Rates?” Joe asked.
“For your work,” Mr. Shaw prompted. He picked up something that was waiting next to his mug – a checkbook.
Payment, Frank realized, doing his best to school his expression back into something resembling normality. He was talking about paying them. “Well… we don’t exactly have those,” he said sheepishly.
Mr. Shaw looked shocked. “You don’t take payment?”
“Sometimes we get dinner and stuff,” Joe interjected, trying to be helpful. Mr. Shaw’s expression contorted further.
“Nonsense,” he said. He nodded to himself, then opened his checkbook and wrote something down. He passed the check to Frank face down.
“Oh, we couldn’t –” Frank protested politely. Mr. Shaw passed the check over to Joe, then, who accepted it. “Joe.”
“Please,” Mr. Shaw said, and they stood to follow his lead when Callie’s car rumbled out in the front driveway, “Indulge an old man. And thank you again.”
On the drive home, Sunshine took up the front seat again, and Callie grinned at the pair of them in the rearview mirror just as soon as they turned the corner onto the street. “So how much did he give you?”
Joe pulled the check out of his pocket and gasped. “Oh my god,” he said, strangled.
Frank plucked it from his hands carefully, and balked the same way. “Twenty – Jesus Christ, twenty five thousand dollars?”
Callie nodded thoughtfully. “A little high, but there was a murder involved. What’s my cut? 10%?”
“You should get more than that,” Frank said distantly, still hardly able to believe what he was looking at. “Holy fuck.” Beside him, Joe made an agreeable noise. “Should we – are we supposed to be getting paid for this?”
Callie snorted indelicately. “Duh,” she said.
“But then we’d need licenses,” Joe reminded him, “Like Dad.”
“But then you wouldn’t have to live with your parents,” Callie countered, “And you could employ other people. Like me.”
Frank looked up, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She looked almost embarrassed. “You’d want to?”
“Frank,” she groaned, “Please don’t make me say that the last two weeks were more fun than anything I’ve ever done in my entire life. You know I’m enrolled in community college, right?”
He looked over at Joe, then, who shrugged. “How hard could it be?” Joe asked. “We could take some classes. Set up an office. File paperwork, or whatever. Dad would help us.”
“Start a detective agency?” Frank said disbelievingly, “I don’t know.”
“Right, I’m sure that’s step eighty or one-hundred in your plan,” Joe laughed, “What do you want to start with? Business school?”
That actually sounded like a smart idea. And he was pretty sure, in one of his more melancholy fits in River Heights, when he’d been sulking over Nancy ignoring him, that he’d said something dramatic about quitting mysteries and getting his MBA.
“We could do it part time, I guess. Between cases.” He looked up, back at Callie’s reflection. “Could we?”
“I don’t know, Mr. I-Spent-A-Semester-And-A-Half-At-Georgetown-And-Dropped-Out-Because-It-Was-Boring, could you?”
“Joe was kidnapped in Kentucky,” Frank reminded her absently, rolling his eyes.
“I was not kidnapped –”
“That is so not the point,” Callie laughed. “Yes, you could do it. You two are the smartest people I know. I’m sure they’d give you an accelerated course load.”
Yeah. They probably would. And the City University nearby offered virtual classes, he was pretty sure. If he remembered correctly, they were coming up on the end of their agreement with ATAC, too – if they hadn’t reached it already. He and Joe operated more like free agents nowadays, anyway. “So we go to school. We figure out how to run a business. We get an office…”
“And then do all the same stuff we were doing before, but for money,” Joe declared, folding his arms behind his head. He grinned. “I like it.”
“I’m sure your parents will help us with the paperwork,” Callie said, “Fuck, does this mean I have to finish college, too?”
“Only if you want,” Joe offered. His excitement made Sunshine perk up in the front seat, and she hopped up onto the center console, tail wagging enthusiastically. “Hey, you should transfer and come with us.”
Callie’s expression flickered into something surprised but pleased. “Yeah?” she asked softly, and, wow. They were really doing this. This whole thing – they were going to do it.
“Yeah,” he said decisively, giving in and grinning, too, as Joe whooped with joy beside him.
*
Frank didn’t mention the plan to Nancy, and he asked Joe not to, either. Joe rolled his eyes at him, but as far as Frank knew, he’d kept the secret from even Bess, something Frank knew wasn’t easy.
They rushed to get enrolled in school quickly so they could start classes after the holidays in January, something that was more complicated than normal, given they’d both only barely graduated high school and had a lot on their resumes they technically weren’t supposed to tell anyone about.
Callie had a much easier time transferring. He and Joe had to meet with the Dean twice, but eventually the three of them got their schedules for the spring semester and their parents, who had been thrilled with the plan, bought all their books in December and converted part of the basement at their house into a space they could all work out of, for now.
Nancy called him one night sounding exasperated. “I just wanted to let you know I’m flying to New Zealand next week,” she said. She hardly seemed excited by the prospect. “I won’t be able to use my phone while I’m there.”
“Oh,” Frank hummed. His phone was balanced between his shoulder and his ear, an economics textbook open in his lap. The pages were already covered with yellow highlighter. “Sounds fun?”
“Bess signed us up for this reality show, Pacific Run? It’s George’s favorite. And pretty much the only thing she’s ever wanted to do with her life. And she needed a partner.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Frank murmured, eyes still on his notes. “The rest of the teams don’t stand a chance between the two of you.”
“That’s sweet,” Nancy said, “But I doubt the challenges will be all computer programming and anagrams.”
He made a noncommittal sound. There was quiet for a moment before Nancy prompted, “You sound distracted.”
Frank felt himself flush, glancing up from his notes guiltily. “Just the holidays,” he lied, “It’s been snowing like crazy up here. Wish I was headed to the Southern Hemisphere.”
“It’ll be kind of nice to take a vacation,” Nancy agreed blandly, like she knew there was something he wasn’t saying. It was strange, how different things were between them. At one time, Nancy would have called him out instantly, but ever since Halloween there’d been a new distance where there was once an easy friendship.
“How long will you be gone for?” It was nice, he supposed, that she’d called to let him know. It wouldn’t save him from waiting around, staring at his phone like an idiot, but at least he wouldn’t have to wonder.
“Six weeks,” she sighed, “We leave right after Christmas. We have to sleep in a tent.”
“Hey, you’ve had worse.” In fact, he had the distinct recollection of sleeping on a cave floor with Nancy on more than one occasion, once upon a time.
“Worse than New Zealand in the summer? No. The mosquitos there are going to be the size of my hand.” Nancy paused. “What are you doing for New Year’s?”
“Ugh. Joe’s dragging me up the street to a party at Chet’s,” he answered, making a face at the recollection. “Then we’re headed to the Gulf Coast. Some kind of cruise ship thing.” He was already mildly stressed out about not making it back in time for their first day of classes. Callie and Joe had mocked him ruthlessly for it, but he was sort of looking forward to attending at least the first few in person.
“Cruise ship thing?” Nancy asked, “Tell me more.”
“You know how it is,” Frank said, “Things go missing, navigation systems stop working, people are afraid to come to work. It always winds up being about money.”
“True,” she agreed. “Tell me about the party, then. Why don’t you want to go?”
Frank shifted uncomfortably on his bed. He closed his economics textbook, pushing it off onto the comforter. “It’s just not really my thing. I’m sure Bess told you how un-fun I was on Halloween.”
“She might’ve mentioned something like that,” Nancy said vaguely, her voice kind. “I guess I’m the same way.”
Privately, he disagreed. Nancy was leaps and bounds better than him at talking to people, at socializing, at being fun. She was missing all of the perpetual wet blanket-ness that he’d been carrying around since approximately age four.
Out loud, Frank said, “Well, it doesn’t stop Joe from forcing them on me. And all anyone’s going to want to talk about is the murder at Callie’s uncle’s.”
“Right.” The funny tone of Nancy’s voice made his pulse jump. Then he remembered Callie’s warning not to get his hopes up, and Frank forced himself back down to Earth, and the reality they currently lived in, where Nancy had a serious boyfriend who wasn’t him. “You can’t blame them for wanting to know about it. It sounded pretty impressive, from what you told me.”
“It was a team effort,” Frank said humbly. “You would have liked it, we had to break into a lot of restricted areas. But Callie did most of the sweet talking, kept us out of trouble.”
“I’ll just bet she did.”
He blinked. Was it so wrong that he was enjoying this? Frank leaned back, stretching out on his bed. He folded the hand that wasn’t holding his phone behind his head. “She was really helpful,” he said earnestly, “Actually, she’s going to work a few angles of this Gulf Coast thing from home for us.”
“Since when does Callie help solve mysteries?” Nancy asked, not rudely, but not very politely, either. Was he imagining the slight snap in her voice?
“I dunno.” Frank kept his tone purposefully light. “She was around and she was helpful. Like Deirdre, when you were in Colorado.”
That drew Nancy up short. He wished he could see her face. He’d earned this, part of him thought meanly, as he grinned up at the ceiling. After so many months of suffering, it felt like he deserved to enjoy this.
“Maybe I’ll be able to sneak my phone in,” Nancy said, after a moment. “That way, if you really need help, you could call me.”
“I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of us.” Frank glanced at the mirror across from his bed and found himself making an insufferable face. Whatever. “We’ll be alright.”
“Maybe we can find a way to meet up after we get back from taping the show,” Nancy suggested instead. “I know Bess is already planning the watch parties.”
He held back a sigh. Had their conversations always been filled with so many maybes? He hated the uncertainty that was between them. “That would be nice,” Frank said honestly instead, “It feels like it’s been forever.”
“It really does. I feel bad I was away the last time you and Joe came to River Heights. Maybe I could come up to Bayport after I’m back.”
Frank blinked. That was a nice offer – and one that seemed just mildly out of character, for Nancy. He didn’t hold it against her, but Nancy was the sort of person who usually expected them to meet her wherever she happened to be, who didn’t understand calling someone just to see how they were doing, who probably didn’t think about him or anyone else at all when she was working a mystery.
“We’d like that,” he answered, torn between excitement and the certainty that Nancy would either forget she’d ever offered or cancel once something else came up. He spared a passing thought to having to run interference between her and Callie and their secret business venture before deciding any amount of drama was worth it, if it meant he could spend some time with Nancy without Ned or Bess or George around. “Just call, okay?”
Nancy exhaled. Frank felt the sound reverberate in his own chest. “Okay,” she said.
*
Unsurprisingly, Nancy’s break in New Zealand wound up morphing into another mystery, though the only reason he found out about it at all was because of the breathless, panicked voicemail Bess left for Joe before she, too, flew out to join the competition. (Nancy hadn’t been able to sneak her phone in.)
They solved the problem at the cruise ship company in just a few days, and made it back to New York in plenty of time to get ready for class. Frank’s professors were nothing like the set he’d encountered at Georgetown during his first go at continuing education, and he found himself enjoying the work more than he thought he would, ahead on his readings for the next month within a week of starting school.
One afternoon, he and Callie were poking around with the website they were building for the agency when Joe barged into the basement and theatrically groaned, “This sucks. I hate school. It’s boring and our Econ 101 professor already hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Frank said, without turning around or taking his eyes off the screen, “Just – you fell asleep. On the first day.”
Callie snorted beside him. “Yeah, I can see why that wouldn’t make her your biggest fan.”
Joe rolled his eyes at both of them, coming around to the other side of the desk. He leaned his chin on the top of Callie’s laptop. “Please tell me you have a lead on something that will get us out of New York. I need a break. I feel itchy.”
“We’ve been home for two weeks,” Frank reminded his brother. “Come here, what do you think of this?”
Joe leaned over the front of the laptop instead of walking around to their side of the desk. Frank watched his eyes cross and refocus. “It’s fine.”
“Well, drama queen, I was waiting until you got home to tell you both, but yes, I’ve got a case for you.” Callie thumbed through her notebook and landed on a page of notes with names and phone numbers highlighted. “And it involves going undercover.”
Joe made a sound of deep relief, launching himself over the side of the desk and wriggling between the two of them, so he was sitting on both half of Callie’s chair and half of Frank’s. He snatched Callie’s notebook up and held it an inch away from his nose. “Really?”
“Really, really,” Callie grinned. “A school in California called. They’re pretty sure one of their fraternities is up to some illegal shit, but they can’t prove it. I figure, how hard could it be for you two to pose as college students who just so happen to be brothers? That’s literally who you are. It’s the perfect crime.”
“It’s actually not a crime at all,” Frank said, before he could stop himself. He physically bit down on his tongue, then asked, “What is it the school thinks they’re doing?”
“Dealing drugs, mostly. But of the very unregulated and very dangerous variety. The school’s pretty sure they’ve been using the chem labs on campus to make their own kinds of study aids. So we plant you two in there, you gain their trust… blow the whole thing wide open. Piece of cake.”
“Sounds like that’s going to take a while,” Joe mused, passing the notebook over to Frank. “Frank’ll actually have to get some sleep if he wants to convince people he’s twenty.”
“Shut up,” Frank said reflexively, reading over Callie’s notes. They were incredibly detailed – the most he ever got out of Joe was a napkin with a phone number on it. “I guess it’ll be easy enough to keep studying. You’re coming too, right?”
“Duh,” Callie grinned, “You think I’d miss this? They’ve got sororities.”
“Sweet. When do we leave?” Joe pushed himself to his feet, tripping out of the narrow space between their chairs and the desk.
“Tomorrow, so get packing.” But he was already off, rushing out of the basement and up the stairs. Callie shook her head at his retreating back. “Sorry it was so last minute. I already cleared our cover with the school; they’ve got everything set up for us. We can go over identities on the plane.”
“It’s fine,” Frank said, lost in thought as he rubbed at his jaw, “I guess I should shave. This is probably going to take all semester, huh?”
“Probably,” Callie agreed good-naturedly, “Except, I dunno. Just when I think things are impossible, you two always surprise me. You’ll have everything figured out by spring break.”
Frank looked back at the laptop screen they’d been huddled around. “The site looks great, by the way. Mind if I check my email quick?”
Callie waved him off, looking at something on her phone, and Frank was halfway through drafting an email for Nancy that carefully didn’t say what he’d be doing while still giving her enough mildly apologetic information to go on when he heard a sound from beside him and turned to find Callie glancing up instead with a look of disapproval. “Dude,” was all she said.
“What?” Frank asked defensively, “She let me know when she was going away. It’s only polite.”
“You need to stop letting her jerk you around,” Callie told him. Whatever his face was doing made her put her hands up. “Hey, it’s your life. I’m just saying.”
“Before she left for New Zealand she said she might come up to Bayport when she got back,” he explained. “I just want to let her know there’s a reason if she can’t get in touch with me.”
The look on Callie’s face turned soft – pitying. It seemed to imply that Callie knew what he’d been wary of – that Nancy was probably never going to come to Bayport. Frank felt his face flush as he averted his eyes. Joe thought he was pathetic, sure, but he never looked at him like that.
He read over what he’d written and pressed send so Callie didn’t have to watch his usual process of obsessing and reediting for twenty minutes before he talked himself out of saying anything at all. Maybe it was stupid, but if his note saved Nancy from waiting around and wondering what she’d done like he had when she’d left him in radio silence, then it was worth feeling dumb.
And if she didn’t care, then it was more of the same, anyway.
“She doesn’t jerk me around,” Frank said, apropos of nothing, as Callie followed him upstairs to help him pack. “She’s never said – she’s made it plenty clear we’re just friends. Believe me.”
Callie sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at him shrewdly. “Nancy and all her little friends know exactly how you feel about her,” she said bluntly. “They’re not very considerate of it.”
“It’s not anyone’s job to coddle me.” Frank winced. Would it kill Callie to go easy on him? On some level he knew that probably everyone could tell how hopelessly besotted he was, but that didn’t mean it felt good to think about their friends gossiping behind his back, or feeling sorry for him. It was bad enough knowing that Joe knew. “I’m the idiot who went ahead and fell in love with her and can’t get over it. It’s my problem.”
“Frank,” Callie sighed, “I’m just saying, maybe they could be a little nicer. That’s all.”
“No one’s not being nice,” he argued stubbornly, shoving more pairs of socks than were probably necessary for him to have with him into his bag.
“Well, they’re not actually being nice, either. You don’t have to be such a martyr all the time.”
He felt his shoulders go stiff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you act like you alone have the weight of the world on your shoulders because you’re obsessed with this girl who already has a boyfriend,” Callie said, still in that same even tone. “But there are people who care about you. There are people who –”
She cut off abruptly as he looked up from his suitcase and met her eyes. The look on Callie’s face was one he recognized instantly, and he felt horror take over his expression as he took in her flush and the way her gaze bounced nervously around the room.
“Callie,” Frank said softly, “Jesus, I…”
“Don’t,” she interjected, “I know all about being an idiot, okay? Just – maybe Joe has a point, about not doing this to yourself? In all the time I’ve known you, you haven’t even tried to move on. You’re not doing yourself any favors.”
He sighed heavily, pushing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how,” Frank admitted, looking down at his duffel bag. If there was a time before he was in love with Nancy, he didn’t remember it. He’d wanted her for so long it’d become like wanting lunch, or a night of uninterrupted sleep at home in his own bed. “Where do I even start?”
“Think about being happy on your own,” she told him gently, slowly moving to her feet. Callie didn’t look at him when she carefully added, “Or with someone else.” Her steps were light on the carpet as she made her way to the door. “Our flight’s after dinner tomorrow. Six-thirty.” She lingered at the entryway to his room and smiled softly, rapping her knuckles on the doorframe. “Try to get some sleep.”
Joe wandered in not long after she’d left. “That sounded awkward,” he said, just as bluntly as Callie had.
Frank allowed himself a moment of being the dramatic one, for once, and flopped backwards onto his bed with a groan. “Did you know she felt that way?”
“I thought she might,” Joe admitted, “In Albany. She’s always had a thing for you.”
He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling stupid. “Trade lives with me.”
Joe snorted. “Not for a million dollars,” he said cheerily, “Now come on, come pick out which hats of mine you want to borrow. Fraternity bros always wear hats.”
*
It did take them the entire semester to clean things up at the school, but they got it done, and Frank was tanned and pretty pleased with himself by the time they flew back to New York.
Even undercover, he and Joe had managed to keep up with their classes and coursework and the both of them had pulled out a set of straight As on their final exams. Things with Callie, which had been awkward at first, had snapped back to normal.
He and Nancy had emailed back and forth pretty consistently, even though it risked his cover, and he hadn’t been caught by anyone – not even Joe.
So things were going pretty well. They hardly ever spoke about his case, and instead, she told him all about New Zealand (a breach of her contract, too) and the internship she’d been offered in Greece for the summer. A museum in Athens wanted her help with an upcoming exhibit that was part antiquities, part theatre performance. From what Nancy had said, the woman who was set to be her boss sounded nice enough and plenty interesting.
I know you and Joe know everything there is to know about art, Nancy had written in one of her emails, So I’m sure I’ll be calling you often.
She wasn’t leaving until July, when the theatre troupe would be gearing up for the debut they’d been practicing for at the museum, but she didn’t say anything about coming up to Bayport before she shipped out, even though he let her know their case had wrapped and he was on his way home.
It was just as well. It was probably about time Frank took some of Callie and Joe’s advice and tried to move on with his life. It’d been a year since he last saw Nancy in person – that made it as good a time as any to get started, right?
Besides, they had an early summer session to get ahead on credits to worry about, and permits to file with their dad and office spaces to tour. Things with the agency were coming along quickly, and they took advantage of the brief break in cases to chip away at the administrative work that seemed to be piling up around them.
Nancy called him on his birthday at the end of June at midnight, screaming into the phone so loudly that Joe heard where he’d rushed into his bedroom to do the same. His brother stood by with his eyebrows raised as they spoke, and after Nancy hung up to finish packing he said, abruptly, “Do you think we should ask Nancy to be a partner? You know, in the agency.”
Frank was, admittedly, still a little dazzled by her excited voice on the phone and how she’d been gushing over him. “Huh?”
Joe spread his hands out in front of himself. “The Hardys and Drew Detective Agency,” he said grandly, wiggling his fingers. “Has a nice ring to it, no?”
Frank blinked at him. “That’s genius,” he said, frowning.
“Really?” Joe asked, “Because your face is doing the thing.”
“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” Frank said, “But it makes sense. Then we could work together all the time.”
“Professionally,” Joe said politely. “Sorry – I know it’s your birthday.”
“No, you’re right. I –” His phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down and saw that Nancy had texted him.
Flight to Greece moved up to tmrw morning, she’d written. Melina is missing. Definitely going to need your help on this one.
Before he could answer her, another message appeared below the first. Happy birthday!!!!
Frank lifted his eyes as Joe groaned. “You’ve got that goofy grin again,” he said, sounding disgusted. “What’d she say?”
“Just that they moved up her flight to Greece. Something weird’s going on at the museum,” Frank explained, back to typing out a response.
“That’s it?” Joe asked in disbelief.
“She said happy birthday again,” he mumbled, reading over his text a few times before sending it off.
“That’s all it takes? You really need to get laid.”
“Can’t you just let me be embarrassing?” Frank asked, ignoring his burning face and staring at his phone as if he could will another text from Nancy to magically appear, “It’s my birthday.”
“And that means you’re too old for this,” Joe told him, “But, fine. Come get me when Nancy wants to know about photorealism.”
It turned out that Nancy needed more help than just identifying ancient Greek antiquities. As was typical for her, she stumbled into a smuggling ring made up of grifters that made even his contacts at The Network stutter when Frank said their names. Their ‘help’ morphed from sending over a book on vases to speaking in code with members of prominent organized crime families quickly.
It’d been months since he was in constant contact with anyone at ATAC – The Network, now – while they worked to build their own connections and strike out on their own, but they were happy for Frank and Joe to abuse their resources as long as they agreed to work one last case on the books, something he was none too thrilled about but agreed to immediately.
For Nancy.
Did even their old bosses at The Network know he would’ve agreed to do absolutely anything for Nancy?
At any rate, they were stretched a little thin between packing for London and doing their best to stop Nancy from being murdered in Greece before the play’s opening night, and though Callie protested only minimally, she was happy to stay behind in Bayport and wrap things up while they flew out for their last mission as sub-legal government contractors.
He pretended not to have heard Joe and Callie talking about him behind his back, murmuring with their heads bowed low about whether or not he was going to lose it if Nancy turned down their offer to become partners. He was doing his best to be optimistic about the prospect – hopefully, Nancy would be so impressed by what they’d built by the time they showed her that her answer would be something she wouldn’t even have to think about.
“I think she’s going to love it,” Joe told him, and then Nancy, over the phone, like Frank knew he eventually would. Joe ducked the shoe Frank threw at him expertly, then packed it into his suitcase while explaining pentimento to Nancy without missing a beat, juggling his cellphone between both his hands effortlessly.
“We’re going to be out of pocket for a few hours tomorrow,” Frank said, when Joe finally passed him the receiver. He put Nancy on speakerphone. “The Network is sending us to London for a case. Shouldn’t take too long.”
Tomorrow was the opening night of the museum’s production. With any luck, Nancy would have her case wrapped up by the time they landed, though he knew things hardly ever worked out that way. “That’s fine,” Nancy said, like she wasn’t concerned about the inevitable disaster that was waiting to befall her at all. She didn’t ask any questions about what they were doing with The Network. “I’m glad you’ll be close by. Well, close-er. Hey, you guys should head over here after you’re done. Maybe we can actually see some sights before I have to fly home.”
“You want us to come to Greece?” Frank asked, glancing over at Joe, who was nodding exuberantly with both of his thumbs up. Yes, he mouthed, like Frank was somehow still not getting the picture. “Definitely, we’d love to.”
“Joe can see some of Niobe’s work at the museum. Oh, you know what? It’s almost Ned’s semester break.” No. No, no. Frank prayed to anyone who would listen that Nancy wasn’t about to suggest what he thought she might, and – “Do you guys want to come pick him up with me? In a week or so?”
Damnit. “He’s still at school?” Frank asked uneasily, studiously avoiding Joe’s gaze.
“He had to stay late for baseball camp,” Nancy explained. “So – what do you think? Say you’ll stop by Boston with me.”
Joe leaned over and took the phone out of his numb hand. “That sounds great, Nancy,” he said politely. Frank felt like maybe he might be sick. “It’ll be nice to have some time off together, for once.”
“Tell me about it,” Nancy laughed, “I doubt Ned will want to hear much about how the three of us have been working this art heist.”
“We’ll keep the gory details to ourselves,” Joe assured her. “Try to stay out of trouble until we land tomorrow, okay?”
“No promises,” Nancy said cheekily. Frank let himself envy their easy camaraderie. Probably, there was once a time he and Nancy could converse so seamlessly, but not anymore. Now he second-guessed everything he said to her. “Frank? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yes. Be careful, okay? We’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promised, and as soon as the call ended he groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“How can I get out of going to Emerson?” Frank asked, already panicking. “I cannot go with her to visit Ned at school.”
Joe pulled a face at him, wincing in sympathy. “Maybe it won’t be so bad?”
“Halloween was bad enough,” Frank said, the words muffled behind his palms. “I can’t watch the two of them together.”
“We can have Callie make up an emergency,” Joe suggested, “Once we get down there. It’ll be fine. Jeez, I can’t believe it’s been over a year since we last saw Nancy.”
Suddenly he felt sick all over again. Joe was right – they hadn’t seen Nancy in person since they visited her last summer, when he’d almost told her how he felt over the fire in her backyard.
So much had happened since then. How on Earth was he supposed to talk to her now?
“Relax,” Joe said, startling him from his thoughts. He jostled his shoulder into Frank’s good-naturedly. “Don’t worry so much. Or at least save it for the plane. We do actually have some work to do first.”
Right. Secret agent stuff. The thing he was actually trained for, and pretty good at, too. He could do that. He had to do that.
His problems would all still be there in a few days.
*
For all his worrying, seeing Nancy again wasn’t as momentous as Frank expected it to be. Surprisingly, things between them were as normal as ever – she met Frank and Joe at the museum when they arrived in Greece and hugged them both tight, laughing as Joe lifted her up off her feet and smacking his arm once he put her down.
She chattered about the weather and Greek food and the case wrap-up while she gave them a tour of the exhibit and the areas of the museum where the sets had been that were now taped up like a crime scene. They met Melina and checked in on Nancy’s loose ends and, when they went back to the hotel to settle in, Frank saw the beginnings of a letter she was writing to Ned about the case with some photos already waiting in an envelope on Nancy’s desk.
The three of them went out to dinner at a candlelit hole-in-the-wall with amazing food and loud live music. Over dessert, Nancy leaned in close and quietly said, “Thanos is out of jail already.”
Frank gaped at her. “What?”
She shrugged. “He said he had some friends in the local police force. It’s hardly surprising. From everything you’ve told me about Kronos, of course they’d have arms everywhere.”
“But,” Joe said worriedly, “You cost them a lot of money, Nancy. That means he’s probably…”
Frank looked around the restaurant furtively as he trailed off. There didn’t seem to be anyone glancing twice at their table, but he suddenly felt exposed in the cramped atmosphere of the room. Part of him wished he and Joe hadn’t turned in their guns to The Network’s London office after they’d finished their case. “We should get back to the hotel,” he said.
“Aw, come on,” Nancy protested, “I just wanted to tell you so you could let ATAC – The Network know. You said they’ve been after Kronos for years, right?”
“Yeah, but a guy like Thanos doesn’t go down easily,” Joe said, picking up his drink and quickly knocking back what was left in his glass. “I’m with Frank. Hotel’s our best bet until daylight.”
Nancy frowned at the both of them. “You don’t want to go out?” she asked, “Grigor was always talking about how fun the club scene is in Athens.”
Joe glanced over at him. Frank could read his silent question in the tilt of his gaze, and sighed. Of course it was on him to be the wet blanket, yet again. “Couldn’t we just grab another drink at the hotel?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Nancy’s eyes sparkled in the flickering candlelight. “Come on, we’re in Greece. All three of us. When does this ever happen?”
“It’s never happened before, actually,” Joe said, sounding amused. “But alright, I’m in. We already almost died once this week, what’s another go at it?”
Frank elbowed him sharply. Across the table, Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “You said everything went fine!”
“Everything was fine,” Frank said, at the same time Joe answered, “We were shot at pretty much the entire time.”
“What?” Nancy demanded.
“Frank’s got a mean graze on his side,” Joe hummed. “I just had a concussion.”
“You were born with a concussion,” Frank told him. “Nancy, it’s nothing. It’s got a bandage on it.”
But she was frowning again. “Weren’t you going to tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” Frank said honestly, “It was nothing. Besides, it’s our last job with The Network for… a while, so it doesn’t even matter.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Does this have anything to do with that thing you were talking about?”
“Yes,” said Joe, while Frank shook his head beside him. “I mean – no?”
Nancy sighed. “Fine,” she sniffed, “Keep your secrets.” She chewed carefully on her bottom lip, glancing over at Frank and holding his gaze. “I’m glad you’re alright,” Nancy said softly. Then she flushed and averted her eyes to Joe. “Both of you,” she amended hastily.
“Takes more than that to keep the Hardy boys down,” Joe declared proudly, effortlessly shattering whatever moment was half-formed between them. Frank was both grateful for it and annoyed by the interruption. Joe jumped up to his feet, knocking his chair back from the table. “Are we going dancing, or what?”
They went to a dive bar in some neighborhood of Athens Nancy seemed to be only vaguely familiar with, where people their age littered the streets in sparkly dresses. No one followed them through town, even when they made several unnecessary turns and abrupt detours down dark alleyways.
He bought a round of drinks, and then another, and Nancy insisted on dancing with the both of them until an older woman whisked Joe away to join her group of friends and the pair of them were alone. He had only a moment to wonder if things should be awkward before Nancy spun around and danced closer, laughing up at him under the flashing lights of the dance floor. Her hand brushed against his side, over the bandage under the thin shirt he was sweating through.
“Sorry,” she shouted over the music, “Does it hurt?”
Frank shook his head. “It’s fine,” he insisted. Her questions were exactly why he hadn’t been planning on mentioning the injury – Nancy was relentless when she wanted to be.
“You don’t always have to downplay everything,” she said, her eyes oddly serious. Clearly she didn’t understand that was the only thing that had stopped him from going insane, all this time. She didn’t know what it was like to have to pretend like the things that were killing you were no big deal, to wave away something that felt like the end of the world because acknowledging it would crush you. He hoped she never found out.
“I’m not,” Frank argued, “Come on, I didn’t even need stitches.”
“You were cleared by a field medic?” Nancy asked skeptically. The question was fair enough. In his experience, government missions always had stricter standards of fine than he or Joe personally held.
“In a way,” he answered vaguely, “But it’s fine. I changed the bandage this morning, it’s not even that deep. Do you really think Joe would let me traipse around Greece bleeding half to death?”
Nancy sighed. “Let’s get a drink,” she said.
They stood side-by-side at the bar, Frank’s eyes lingering on Joe across the room. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and most importantly, they were all still unmaimed by any Kronos hitmen.
Nancy put her hand on his wrist when he pulled out his wallet, instead fishing a few euro out of her pocket and laying them down on the bar. As they both picked up their glasses, they turned in tandem to lean against the bar, facing each other in the dim lighting.
“I’ve really missed you both,” Nancy said suddenly, again with that serious look on her face. “I feel like things have been kind of weird lately, and I feel like it’s my fault.”
Frank shrugged uncomfortably. “Things have been fine.”
“What did I just say?” Nancy laughed. “You don’t have to – Frank. I know they’ve been… I know I’ve been difficult.”
“You were dealing with a lot,” he reminded her gently. Offering her an out, like always. Making excuses for her again.
Frank blinked, then shook his head as if to clear it. The last thing he wanted was to start to resent Nancy for his own idiocy. None of this was her fault.
“Don’t,” she said. “You guys deal with a lot, too. But you always have time for me. You always check up on me. And you don’t – you’re so…” Nancy seemingly searched for the words she wanted for a moment and then gave up, shrugging helplessly. “I don’t know how to say it,” she admitted, “And I know I never do, but I’m grateful. That’s all. You’re both such great –”
“Friends, I know,” Frank cut in, before he could stop himself. He frowned down at the drink in his hands, betrayed. Tequila always loosened his tongue too much. He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to say it. We know, okay? Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
“Yeah,” Nancy said slowly, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. When she caught him staring, she glanced away, fussing with the cocktail straw in her glass.
They stood in silence for just a moment before Joe bounded over, sweaty and flushed with glitter on one cheek and a smear of red lipstick on the other. “I love Greece,” he said, shooting a wink over his shoulder at the group of women twice his age he’d left behind.
Frank rolled his eyes, biting on the inside of his cheek to stifle his grin when Nancy shot him a private smile over his brother’s head. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Casanova – let’s get home before we all get shot at again.”
Once they were alone in their hotel room and showered and in bed, both staring at the ceiling waiting for the exhaustion of the last week to catch up with them, Joe asked, “Is it any easier? Seeing Nancy, I mean.”
“No,” Frank answered immediately, “It’s weird. Part of me is just happy to be around her, but part of me… feels like it’s just gotten worse. I feel like I’m going to explode.”
Joe sighed. “We’ll get you out of going to Emerson,” he said sympathetically, “I already texted Callie.”
Frank winced. There was sure to be at least one message reminding him of how pathetic and embarrassing he was waiting on his phone. “Thanks,” he said anyway, because he was still grateful, mostly. At least they tried to run interference for him when they could.
It was quiet for a moment, just the whirring of the ancient air conditioning system in the hotel working overtime filling the room. Then, Joe suggested, “Maybe you should tell her.”
“No,” he said again, snorting with the absurdity of it all. He’d decided a long time ago that telling Nancy was only going to make things worse, not better.
There was an abrupt squeaking of Joe’s mattress springs as he pushed up onto his side. Frank turned his head and found his brother staring at him from across the nightstand that had been shoved between their beds. “Why not?”
“Because,” Frank answered, “Nancy’s with Ned. And even if she wasn’t, she doesn’t feel the same way. And it’s fine. I still get to – It’s fine. She doesn’t need me to put this on her. It’s not the right time.”
Joe made a disagreeing sound. “It doesn’t have to change anything,” he said naïvely. “Nancy wouldn’t let it change anything.”
“It would change everything.” He laughed humorlessly, back to staring at the ceiling. “It already has. It’s like – talking to her is so fucking difficult, now. And I know she feels the same way. Neither of us even knows what to say to the other.”
He wondered if Callie was right – if Nancy did know how he felt, and was just too nice to say anything about it. Did that make things better or worse?
His head was pounding. The wound on his side actually hurt a lot, not that he could tell anyone so. All he wanted to do was fall asleep – and he was exhausted – yet he couldn’t seem to turn his mind off.
“Just think about it,” Joe said sleepily, evidently deciding that arguing with him was no longer a priority.
All I do is think about it, Frank wanted to snap back at him, but Joe flopped on his back and started snoring, and then he was alone with his thoughts again, unsure what, exactly, he was trying to convince himself of.
*
It all came to a head on their last day in Greece.
It’d taken some begging, but Callie had his flight changed and invented a story that would let him slink back home to lick his wounds in Bayport. That was the easy part.
The difficult part was conveying it to Nancy, who seemed to know instantly that Frank was lying, and stared at him disappointedly with her hands planted on her hips as he fumbled his way through his explanation. “What do you mean you’re not coming?”
“It’s just… there’s a few things I have to take care of at home,” he repeated lamely, “With school and stuff.”
“Then why doesn’t Joe have to go?” she demanded, starting to grow annoyed.
“We have different schedules,” Frank lied, frowning at her. “It’s just a credit issue, I need to get it fixed before classes start again next month.”
“And it can’t wait two more days?” Nancy asked. “We’ve already been here for over a week.”
She’d already sent Ned his letter. He’d walked into town with her to find the post office. When she and Joe got to Emerson, he was going to wonder where Frank was – assuming he didn’t already know, which Frank was certain he did.
“Nancy, is it really that big of a deal? Joe and I can come to River Heights again.”
“It just feels like you’re making up an excuse,” she said. Maybe things between them hadn’t changed so completely. There she was, calling him out without hesitation.
Yet he was out of excuses. He had nothing to say. The words were made up, designed to get him out of having to spend forty-eight hours watching Ned indulge in the casual touches and sweet words he was entitled to as Nancy’s boyfriend, designed to preserve the last clinging iota of his sanity. Designed to grant him just a moment’s respite from wanting and suffering through something that hurt far worse than the bullet wound at his side.
He was so fucking exhausted. Frank sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Why are you doing this?” he asked her, voice practically pleading.
Nancy blinked at him. “Doing what?”
“This,” Frank repeated. “Pushing me. Trying to make me come to Emerson. Come on, Nancy. Can’t you cut me a break?” Jesus, he needed to stop. He was rapidly approaching a place he couldn’t come back from.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, eyebrows pinching together.
“Stop.” He pressed his fingertips into his eyes until he saw stars. “Don’t act like you don’t know, okay? I know you do. It’s so – don’t you think it’s a little unfair? That you’re trying to make me want to have a front row ticket to the Ned and Nancy Show?”
“The Ned and Nancy Show?” Frank dropped his hands, opening his eyes. Nancy was staring at him in deep confusion.
But now that he’d started talking there was no going back. The words rushed up beyond his control, even though they were so far from the right moment it was almost laughable. “It’s bad enough that I have to think about it,” he said, “You can’t seriously expect me to sit there and watch and act like –”
“Frank!” Nancy’s cheeks were pink as she cut him off, her eyes hard. He recognized the expression on her face perfectly: she was halfway to being seriously pissed, and she was so, so beautiful. “If you think I know what you’re talking about, I don’t.”
“Nancy, I’m in love with you,” he bit out, the words ripped from his chest in agony. Frank spread his hands out wide at his sides. Fine – she wanted him to say it. He’d fucking say it. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you. Okay? I love you.”
It was ten times more freeing than when he’d admitted as much to Callie. A hundred times, even. Joe was right; telling her had probably ruined everything, but it felt so good to have the words out there that Frank was lightheaded with it, his vision swimming.
His eyes slowly came to focus on the look of terrified shock coloring Nancy’s expression. Dread filled his stomach in turn. That was definitely not the look he’d wanted her to have. “What?” Nancy said again, her voice low in comparison to the way he’d been shouting.
Frank swallowed. “I can’t go to Boston, Nancy. I just – I feel like I’m going insane. I have for a long time. I need to… for once, just let me say no, okay? Please.”
He studied the look on Nancy’s face, cataloging the panic he saw etched in the lines on her forehead like he might with a suspect – like they’d taught him to in training. His brain, which had been basking in its moment of quiet for the first time in so long, was now sending him signals to start mitigating the damage he’d done.
When Nancy didn’t say anything, he took the opportunity to do damage control. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then stuffed both in the pockets of his jeans. “Look, I know you and Ned are happy together,” Frank said, “And I value your friendship so much. You have to believe that. I don’t want this to change anything between us.”
Behind Nancy’s back, he saw Joe waver in the open doorway of their adjoining rooms. His eyes were wide. Holy shit, he mouthed, then shot Frank a silent thumbs up of encouragement before rushing off to lock himself in their bathroom.
His eyes flickered back to Nancy. “I just need some time, alright?”
Nancy nodded. He watched her mouth open and close a few times, and then she said, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know.”
Frank lifted his shoulders in a shrug. It was nice of her to say so, and nicer still to think that she hadn’t been so cruel to him on purpose, or out of pity.
It didn’t change anything. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Nancy snapped, “Everything isn’t always fine, Frank. I mean, you say something like this and I’m supposed to – how am I supposed to act like this never happened?”
“You don’t have to,” he said, rocking back on his heels. He was pretty sure this was going poorly. He’d never told anyone else he loved them before, but by all accounts he was familiar with, it wasn’t supposed to be received this way. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to cut me some slack, Nancy. I just need a break.”
Was he asking for the moon? He couldn’t recall ever asking anyone for a break before, even when he was probably dying. It didn’t seem like too much to want. Not when there were so many other things he wanted even more.
To his own horror, he saw Nancy’s eyes grow shiny. “How long have you felt this way?”
Frank pursed his lips. “Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked softly.
Nancy’s bottom lip wobbled. Then she set her jaw and stood up straighter, seemingly angry again. “Isn’t that an answer all on its own?”
“Jesus,” Frank sighed, “I’m sorry, Nancy. What do you want me to say? I tried not to. I’ve tried everything I could think of to stop – to keep people from noticing – everything. It’s not like I don’t know you have a boyfriend.”
“Oh my god,” Nancy muttered to herself, “I can’t believe this.” To Frank, she said, “I can’t believe you never said anything!”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and threw them in the air. “What good would it have done? You and Ned –”
“This is not about me and Ned –”
“Nancy, look. Look.” He waited for her to stop and meet his eyes before he continued. “I almost told you plenty of times, okay? But it was never the right moment, or there was something else going on, and I didn’t want to… put that on you, or make you think your friendship isn’t enough for me. It is, okay? Your friendship means the world to me.” He was starting to sound desperate. In all the millions of times he’d imagined this scenario in his mind, things had never played out quite this way.
Nancy stared at him blankly. “Colorado,” she said tonelessly, after a moment, “That’s what you said, on my voicemail, when I was – that’s what you said, right? What you always wanted to tell me?”
“Yeah,” Frank confirmed softly. There was no point in lying now. “I’m sorry.”
She was the one to toss her hands up in the air this time, turning on her heel and pacing in her hotel room. “I can’t believe you’re the one apologizing to me.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Frank said, “Please, Nancy, just –”
Nancy stopped abruptly, turning to face him again. She was pinching the bridge of her nose, and had her eyes squeezed shut tight. “Could you just go?”
Frank stilled. He only realized he’d extended a hand towards her after she told him to leave, and let his arm fall awkwardly back to his side. He nodded.
“Just,” Nancy said, “I just, I need some time to think.”
He wandered back into their hotel room as if in a daze, only distantly aware of the door to Nancy’s room closing behind him and the flip of the deadbolt that followed it. Joe ambled loudly of their bathroom, halfway to smiling as he walked over before he got close enough to see whatever Frank’s face was doing and all the levity dropped out of his expression.
“How’d it go?” he asked anyway. Frank sighed.
“Pretty bad,” he admitted, rubbing at his forehead. “She was angry. Then upset. Angry again.” He didn’t say so out loud, but Frank was pretty sure he’d just ruined the best friendship he’d ever had.
He felt like an idiot.
“I’m going to have Callie change my flight, too,” Joe said. “Nancy will understand.”
He dropped a hand onto Frank’s shoulder comfortingly, then pulled out his phone and started texting. Frank could only imagine what his conversation with Callie would be like, and how much of it would center around what an embarrassing moron he was.
At least now it would be easier for Nancy to explain herself to Ned. She could say he and Joe had been called away for a case. Ned would probably just be relieved to hear it.
Frank wasn’t sure how long he spent staring into space feeling sorry for himself, but eventually he came to and muttered, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I did that.”
Joe clapped him on the shoulder again, startling him back to himself. Frank looked around and saw that Joe had managed to pack for the both of them, the hotel room orderly and impersonal again. “You have to feel at least a little bit better,” Joe said.
He did. Despite how certain he was that he’d completely nuked any hopes for a normal friendship with Nancy – let alone a detective partnership – he felt lighter, somehow, like the burden of the horrible secret he’d been carrying around had been lifted. He felt like he’d escaped another brush with certain death.
“I kind of do,” he told his brother, and when Joe smiled encouragingly at him, without a trace of sarcasm in his eyes, he smiled carefully back.
*
Like he expected, he didn’t hear from Nancy for the rest of the summer. Frank was pretty sure Joe had been in contact with her at least peripherally, through their other friends, but Joe didn’t offer up any information and so he didn’t ask. No one else texted him, either, and eventually August dwindled to a close and they went back to campus like nothing ever happened.
They consulted with The Network as their contracts wound down with the rest of the year, but there was no more field work and they were light on mysteries, too, only picking up a few small cases that came their way through word of mouth. Frank spent most of the semester picking out an office space and getting it set up with his dad. It was the closest to normal his life had ever felt.
By Thanksgiving, their permits were filed and their lease was signed. All that was left was to publish their website, though Frank had wanted to wait until he had the chance to ask Nancy about becoming a partner – a chance he was starting to think would never come, ever since he opened his big fat mouth and Nancy ran off without contacting him for another six months.
Christmas came and went. On New Year’s Eve, Frank found himself arguing with Joe about Chet’s party all over again, just like he had the year before. It was snowing in Bayport and he didn’t want to leave the house for anything, even to head up the street, but their parents had gone out and Joe was threatening to call Callie to come over and drag him up off the couch when their doorbell rang.
Frank went to answer it, hoping Callie hadn’t sensed his displeasure from the next block over and decided to head over early.
He was wholly unprepared to see the person who was actually standing on his parents’ porch, snowflakes in her shiny red hair.
Nancy smiled at him, making his heart lurch and confirming what Frank had already known: that another six months wasn’t enough time to get over Nancy Drew – that no time would ever be enough for him to get over Nancy Drew, that there was nothing in the universe that worked and he was going to die hopelessly in love with her, like he always had been.
“Hi,” she said. She had a bag with her.
“Who is it?” Joe demanded from the living room, rushing to the door and running into Frank’s back, “Is it – oh. Hey, Nancy.”
“Hi, Joe.” She leaned around the both of them to look inside. “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
“You need a hat,” Frank said reflexively, stepping aside to let her pass. Joe disappeared upstairs, and Frank distantly heard the door to his room slam shut. “And gloves. And a scarf. What are you doing here?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Frank.” Nancy’s voice was dry, but she looked nervous as she unbuttoned her coat, hesitating before seemingly deciding to leave it on, like she wouldn’t be allowed to stay. “I didn’t know if you’d be home.”
“Joe’s been trying to drag me to Chet’s for an hour,” he admitted. “You saved me from killing him, actually.”
Nancy laughed. “Glad to do my part,” she said, though he hardly heard the words over how achingly good it felt to hear her laugh again. He was smacked with a wave of fondness so strong it almost knocked him over. God, how he’d missed her.
For a moment, they stood stock still and stared at each other. Nancy was studying his face with unnerving precision, making him wonder if there was food in his teeth or if he’d missed a spot shaving. Frank felt his heart start to pound.
Just as he opened his mouth, Nancy said, “I have to go to Iceland next week.”
He paused. “Iceland?”
Nancy nodded. “Missing ship captain,” she explained, almost breathlessly, “Either he ran off with a pretty substantial hidden treasure, or –”
“Or something bad happened,” Frank finished for her, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sounds fun.”
Nancy nodded again, more sharply this time. “I want you to come with me,” she said.
Those were the last words he expected to hear her say. Frank gaped at her. “What?”
“Come with me to Iceland,” Nancy implored, “Please. It’s – will you?”
His head was spinning. He hardly knew what the right answer was, and felt more confused than ever. The urge to gush yes, of course, absolutely, when do we leave? was bubbling up in his throat, but Frank forced it down past the lingering hurt he still felt at being so thoroughly ignored again.
“Just me, or…?”
Nancy bit down on her bottom lip. Her cheeks were still red from the cold. “Just you,” she confirmed softly, “And me. I thought – I mean, we’ll have to work, but it’s a small town and they’re putting me up at an inn, and there’ll be a festival and we could see the Northern Lights… and I just, I figured… we could talk? About, well… everything.”
Frank was floored. Nancy hardly ever rambled – she was decisive to a fault, always so sure of herself. Her offer felt wildly out of left field, especially… “What about Ned?”
Her teeth pressed harder into the side of her mouth. Nancy’s voice was very quiet when she spoke – so quiet that there was no way Joe, who was most certainly eavesdropping through the vents, could hear her. “My trip to Emerson didn’t go so well.”
His mouth seemed unsure of what it was supposed to do. His tongue felt like lead, unable to form a sentence, and his jaw worked open and closed for a moment as his brain whirred into overdrive to process what Nancy had just admitted. “So all this time?” he asked stiltedly, nearly bowled over when Nancy nodded her head. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I just… wanted some time to myself, first,” Nancy explained. “To think things over and, you know. See how I felt.”
Frank exhaled shakily, wrapping his hands around his elbows to stop himself from reaching out for her. From anyone else, the offer would be nothing – it was hardly a promise, or a declaration. Nancy’s invitation was just that: a chance to tag along on a trip with her to see if there was anything between them and if they had a prayer of making something work in the real world.
From Nancy, the words were everything. She wasn’t the sort of person who dealt in sweet nothings or showy gifts. The most he’d ever seen her do for Ned was show up when she said she would, which was why it hurt all the worse when she didn’t.
But she’d given him the chance to take a step forward together, and he wasn’t going to blow it. Despite everything in him that told him no, Frank felt a spark of hope flare to life between his ribs.
His stomach turned over again. “Do you really want me to come?”
Nancy reached out and tugged his arms free where they were crossed over his chest. Her smile held genuine affection, a warmth that had always been there overlaid with a playfulness he wasn’t sure he’d seen directed at him in a long, long time.
Her fingers were freezing when they closed around his wrists. “More than anything,” Nancy said honestly, and then she pulled him forward and kissed him, square on the mouth.
Frank’s eyes slid shut as his heart threatened to lurch up into his throat, body aware enough to set his mouth on the right track and kiss her back, his hands sliding around over her coat to press Nancy in towards his chest. The little noise she made when he held her tight sent a shiver down his spine.
It was nothing like he’d ever imagined. Even in his dreams, Nancy had always felt hopelessly out of reach, any fantasies he’d had about kissing her untouchable, like she was a ghost he could never quite manage to close his grip around.
Now, Nancy was solid and real under his fingers, the snow on her coat wet beneath his palms. Her hair brushed over his arms when she tilted her head back and it tumbled off her shoulders.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs behind him. “Oh my god,” Joe said, coughing loudly.
Nancy pulled away even as Frank tried to stop her, his hands insistent on her hips. When he blinked his eyes open he found he never wanted to close them again: Nancy’s lips were red and kiss-bitten, her flush spread across her nose and her eyes sparkling.
“Hello?” Joe demanded from beside him, “Excuse me?!”
Frank pulled his car keys out of the back pocket of his jeans without looking away from Nancy’s beautifully amused face. “Go to Chet’s,” he said, tossing them in the general direction of Joe’s indignant voice.
He heard the keys hit the floor. Joe scoffed, shuffling his feet. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and then, when Nancy started laughing, “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this! We are going to talk about this.”
The front door swung open and closed. Frank eased Nancy’s coat off her shoulders, and she let him.
“There’s one last thing I have to tell you,” he said, leading her over to the couch by the hand.
Nancy smiled at him, dragging her thumb across his knuckles. “I know. Go on, ask me.”
Frank cut her a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Ask you?” he repeated, although he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she’d managed to figure it out.
“Sorry,” Nancy laughed again, “I don’t want to step on your moment. Start from the top.”
He sighed. “Joe and I are starting a detective agency.” Nancy nodded expectantly, not a glimmer of surprise in her expression. “We want you to be a partner. Did you guess, or did Joe tell you?”
“Joe kept your secret,” Nancy promised, leaning in and kissing him chastely, just once, her closed mouth brushing over his. Frank sighed again, more sweetly this time. Nancy squeezed his hand tightly in hers.
“So?” Frank asked, flushing red when he heard how hoarse his voice sounded, “What do you think?”
The moment before she answered felt like it lasted a lifetime. As the seconds ticked by, he started to prepare himself for the inevitable let down, the no that was sure to come with gentle pitying following.
“My preliminary answer is yes,” Nancy said, surprising him still. She grinned sharply at the stupid expression that had no doubt smacked itself across his face. “But let’s see how Iceland goes. Can we take this a day at a time?”
His answer was instinctual, and the words came forward effortlessly. “We can take this however you’d like,” Frank promised her.
Nancy lit up like a Christmas tree, twinkling harder than the street lamps outside. Privately, Frank hoped the snow would get worse, bad enough to cancel whatever flight home she’d booked. Could it possibly snow enough to keep her in Bayport until the first day of spring?
As if she was reading his mind, Nancy reached for her phone and angled it towards him. On the screen were two boarding passes for an early morning flight to Reykjavik on January 8th.
Leaving from JFK.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said.
Frank laughed, halfway between joyous and delirious. None of the outcomes he’d considered had worked out this way. This was so much better than anything his brain could have prepared him for.
“That’s my line, you know,” he told her, and when Nancy laughed, too, his stomach flipped over again – excitedly, this time.
Finally, the right moment had found him.