The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 127

Petty hopped out of the car and rushed inside. The moment she saw Jackson, her voice tumbled out, full of worry. “How did Grandma suddenly faint?”

She was so anxious that she didn’t even notice the step in front of her. As she stumbled, Franco caught her wrist and steadied her, pulling her close before she could fall.

Jackson had reached out to help, but his hand caught nothing but air. He shot Franco a look, then spoke softly to Petty. “Adelaide heard that Franco hit Harris. That’s how she found out you and Franco are splitting up. It was too much for her…”

Petty froze on the spot.

She and Franco had done everything to keep the divorce quiet, especially so their grandmother wouldn’t find out. All that effort, and it had still come to this.

She glanced down at Franco’s hand still wrapped around her waist. No wonder it was hurt. He’d actually hit Harris?

She slipped out of Franco’s grip, barely pausing as she made her way upstairs. “Is she awake now?”

Inside the bedroom, Owen stood off to the side while Nanette helped Adelaide sip some water. Hearing Petty’s footsteps, Nanette looked up. “Adelaide, Franco and Petty are back.”

The old woman stirred, her hand trembling as she tried to sit up. “I only want to see Petty. Everyone else, please leave. I don’t want anyone else in here.”

Franco stopped in his tracks, something unreadable in his dark eyes. The others quietly filed out, leaving just Petty and Adelaide together as rain pattered softly outside the window.

“Grandma, please don’t be upset.” Petty squeezed her grandmother’s hand, her heart aching. “I just… I hadn’t figured out how to tell you about the divorce yet…”

Adelaide squeezed back, her voice thick and shaky. “You’re my good girl. I know that. It’s Franco who’s lost his mind. For you to ask for a divorce, you must have been pushed too far.”

Petty’s eyes stung with tears.

Petty closed the bedroom door softly behind her and turned. Franco was at the end of the hallway, leaning against the window, cigarette in hand. He must have rushed back; he hadn’t even bothered with a coat. In his dark gray sweater and black pants, he looked sharp and quietly intense, almost blending into the rainy night outside.

He was always a mystery, especially in moments like this.

She had to pass him to go downstairs. As she walked over, her eyes drifted to the hand holding the cigarette. The wound across his knuckles was fresh—a reminder of what he’d done to Harris. The sight of it made her chest tighten.

“Why did you hit Harris?”

Smoke curled through the air, blurring the look in Franco’s eyes. “What do you think?”

She let out a short, bitter laugh. “If you hit him just because he’s close to me, then shouldn’t I have beaten your first love to death a long time ago?”