The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 569

It was late, and Misty Vale felt even more desolate in the snowy night.

A dog barked once or twice in the distance.

It was likely General trying to get to Petty, only to be held back by Jay's leash. Whatever method Jay used, the dog quieted down after a few yaps and didn't make another sound.

The silence grew heavier.

Franco lay in the center of his massive bed, draping an arm over his eyes. The image of Petty suddenly appearing before him in that ridiculous Santa suit flashed across his mind over and over.

A soft, faint laugh rumbled in his throat.

"God..."

The moment the word *cute* surfaced in his thoughts, his breathing hitched, instantly turning ragged.

He rolled over, his gaze landing on the bed rails he'd installed to keep Abacus from falling out. Now, he was sleeping alone.

She and Abacus were just down the hall in the nursery.

Sleeping in this empty bed felt pathetic.

He sat up abruptly, grabbing the edge of the duvet, but his hand froze.

If Petty wasn't in a deep sleep, or if she happened to wake up and see him standing in the nursery, she would absolutely not be happy. She'd probably say something that would twist the knife even deeper.

Even though her words hadn't been overtly cruel, her polite, detached demeanor was sharper than any blade.

Outside, he had simply grabbed her arm to keep her out of the slush, and she had looked at him like he was a threat.

The memory forced Franco to entirely abandon the idea of going to the nursery.

If he scared her off now, where the hell was he supposed to find her again?

Meanwhile, Petty was fast asleep, wrapped warmly around Abacus.

"Mama's here, don't cry baby. Let Mama hold you, okay?" Watching him break down made Petty's eyes well up with tears.

In a panic, she slipped out of bed, holding him tight with one arm while gently patting his bottom with the other.

She paced the floor, rocking him.

But Abacus only cried harder, tears and snot smearing his little face as he pointed a trembling finger toward the bedroom door. "Dada..."

Suddenly, the nursery door clicked open.

It was Franco. Though their rooms were down the hall from each other, he was an incredibly light sleeper. He had heard the cries instantly.

The second he pushed the door open, he saw Petty holding the screaming toddler. Her eyes were rimmed red, and she was frantically wiping her own tears away with the back of her hand, desperately trying to hide her breakdown from her son.

She was trying to rock him while awkwardly blindly grabbing for tissues to wipe the boy's face.

Her profound helplessness and distress made Franco break into a rapid stride.