The Unlucky Ones, page 13
Lincoln was smart. If he was trying to conceal something, he wouldn’t leave evidence around. Think, Dev. Where would someone hide something?
I pulled the top drawer open again, feeling all the way to the rear for a false back.
Nope. It was solid.
Dropping down in his chair, I sighed. I was being stupid, trying to find something that wasn’t there. My paranoia and need to fit everything in a box was getting the better of me.
I shoved myself up, needing to get out of the office soon, my hands gripping the lip of the desk. Like a snap of a magnet, the two-inch depth of the tabletop popped out, revealing a shallow drawer.
“Holy shit.” Adrenaline filled my veins. I had never seen a desk do that. A secret compartment in the tabletop itself. Most would think it was solid wood, but really it was hollow, holding another drawer in its ordinary appearance.
Struggling to swallow, I listened for any noise in the hallway before pulling out the hidden compartment. My attention locked on the two objects held inside; a sealed puffy vanilla envelope about the size of a book and what looked like a driver’s license.
Uneasily, I picked up the license, my eyes rolling over the picture, staring at Lincoln’s face. He had black hair cut spiky and short and light scruff, but it was definitely him. I’d know his jaw and stern expression anywhere.
My stomach dropped.
Name: Jake Smith
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
“What the hell?” I whispered, examining every detail to make sure I wasn’t wrong.
No. It was Lincoln. It was the only thing I knew. But Jake Smith with green eyes and black hair stared back at me. Hair you can change, but eyes?
“You wear contacts?”
“Yeah. Nearsighted.”
The moment we had in his office almost a month ago flashed back into my head. He had been curt and defensive. What if those contacts covered green eyes?
Who was Jake Smith, and what was Lincoln hiding?
“Devon?” Nat’s voice sang from the passage. “Where are you?”
“Shit.” I tossed the license back in the compartment and closed the drawer, the magnet clicking back in place, and I scuttled out of the office, like a thief in the night.
My gut had been right. Lincoln was hiding something, and I planned on finding out what.
Jake Smith or Lincoln Kessler, I would find out who they were.
Chapter Fifteen
After a tearful goodbye with Skylar, I was left alone in the house with nothing but my nagging thoughts. Mondays and Tuesdays were my days off. Opening the laptop my sister and I shared, I searched for Jake Smith and Lincoln Kessler on social media. The number of Jake Smiths was astronomical. It took all day and most of Tuesday morning to sleuth out the few contenders, and they all led to dead ends. Lincoln Kessler was no different.
Whoever they were, they stayed far from social media.
Unable to stop myself, I Googled Finn Montgomery. There were several, but none were the guy I encountered at Sue’s Diner. I didn’t see any reports about the guy in jail.
Frustrated, I sagged back in my chair, rubbing my forehead. The buzz of my cell jiggled on the table next to me. Picking it up, a name and number flashed across. My chest clenched, lashing fear into my lungs. I lifted the phone to my ear, dread burning down my neck.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Devon Thorpe?”
“Yes.” I swallowed.
“Nurse Bethany told me to call you.”
Please. No.
“Your mother has taken a bad fall.”
“But she’s still alive?” My hand strangled my phone.
“Yes. She got a nasty cut on her head and a minor concussion. Bethany thought you should know. Maybe you could come see her. She thinks it will help calm your mom seeing a friendly face.”
“Of course.” I jumped from my chair. “I’m on my way.”
Hanging up, I grabbed my jacket and tote bag and sprinted out the door to my car. Now that the weather was colder, the engine turned over and over.
“Come on! Not now!” I hit the steering wheel, but the car had no compassion for my emergency. “Damn it!” I slammed the door shut, stomping toward the bus stop.
Thankfully, the facility wasn’t too far away, and I got there in less than twenty minutes.
“Hi.” I ran to the check-in counter, out of breath. “Here to see Alyssa Thorpe.”
“Devon!” Bethany came from the hallway, waving me over. “Follow me.”
She led me down the passage to my mother’s room.
Bony and fragile, the bed engulfed her frame. A large bandage was wrapped around her head and slightly bloody at the temple. Her lids were lowered, as if she were asleep.
“She got really scared and unsure where she was afterward.” Bethany motioned me forward. “It might help even to hear your voice. She seems to have the strongest connection to you.”
My shoes slid over the smooth floor, inching quietly to her.
“Mom?” I whispered, wrapping my fingers around the bars on her bed which kept her from rolling out. “Mom, are you awake?”
Her lashes fluttered, tilting her head to peer up at me. Blinking a few times, her dry, cracked lips parted. “Devy?” It was garbled and low, but I had heard it. My name. A relieved cry shot from my mouth, my heart constricting. She hadn’t said my name in a long time.
“Yes, Mom. I’m here.” I cupped her hand, holding it like a lifeline, a wobbly smile on my mouth.
Trembling, she drew my hand to her lips, murmuring almost inaudibly. “I love you.”
The world fell away, her words filling a hole, an ache, I didn’t realize was there until she verbalized it. “I love you too, Mom.” Emotion clotted in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. She sighed, her lids closing. She tucked her head into the pillow as exhaustion took over. Clutching her hand firmer, I leaned over and kissed her head. “So much.”
Sensing Bethany behind me, I rubbed away the stray tear, tucked the blanket higher around my mom’s bony shoulders, and turned around.
“Sorry.” I sniffled, wiping my nose.
“Oh, honey, you have nothing to apologize for. What you are going through… You have been so brave and strong.” Bethany soothed me. “Honestly, you amaze me. Someone your age dealing with so much. Alyssa is so lucky to have you.”
Laboring to swallow, my gaze went to my brown boots.
“I hate to add to your load. But we really need you to go over the papers.”
“You don’t need Amelia too?”
“No.” Bethany rattled her head. “Your mom gave you the power of attorney over everything.”
I’d known from the beginning she had made all the decisions. But it still felt it was up to me, the final decision to let her go or not.
Another loaded brick weighed down my bones.
Giving my mother one last kiss, I followed Bethany down the hall. My signature was about to solidify my mother’s decisions. It really put things in perspective. My Nancy Drew quest earlier seemed painfully inconsequential.
I no longer cared who Jake Smith or Lincoln Kessler were.
Nothing felt important except my family.
The bus to work was late, and I had left the apartment without my black work shirt or comfy shoes. Unseasonably early rain began to pour, so I had to run from the bus stop to the saloon, plastering my long hair to my face.
Reaching the front door, I swung it open, hoping I could slip in without too much notice, as I was thirty minutes late.
The sound of my boots squeaking over the wood as I jerked to a stop raised the few heads already at the bar.
Oh shit.
Nat and I always worked together, our schedules and days off in sync. Miguel worked weekends, Mondays and Tuesdays.
But it wasn’t Nat or Miguel behind the bar.
“You’re late.” Lincoln placed his hands on the top, his gaze taking me in. “What happened to you?”
Approaching him like a wild animal, I peered around, hoping to see Nat coming from the kitchen or bathroom.
“Where’s Nat?”
“She called in; her kid’s sick.”
“Oh.”
His forehead lined, his eyes still roaming over me. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
A tight laugh came from me. “Do I look that bad?” I nipped at my bottom lip, my heart still back in the office with Bethany. My signature set the truth in stone. It felt like my mother’s life was in my hands and was too heavy to hold by myself.
“No, you’re always gor—” He stopped, glancing away, clearing his throat. “Just curious why you’re soaking wet and late.”
“My car broke down, and it took longer on the bus to get here from the facility than I thought.” I grumbled, unzipping my jacket, dripping water everywhere. “Oh, and I forgot my shirt.”
“Facility? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” I rolled up my jacket, my feet shuffling toward the lockers in the back. “Do you have an extra shirt and apron?”
“Devon. Stop.” He stepped out from the bar, moving so close I had to look up at him. “What’s going on?”
Irritation flashed over my expression, lowering my eyebrows. “Why? You don’t care. I apologize I’m late. It won’t ever happen again, boss.”
“You don’t think I care?” He frowned, tilting in even closer.
“Are you going to fire me?” I demanded. My temper always flared when I was barely holding on. It was the only way to keep from curling into a ball or falling apart.
“No.” He eyed me, pressing his lips together, his rich, warm, manly smell curling in my nose.
Damn, even a total mess, my body still reacted to his. He was in his usual dark jeans and black T-shirt. He filled them out without being one of those who bought a size smaller to look bigger, like Miguel. He simply was. Broad shoulders, huge arms and hands. His jeans could not hide his toned thighs. And I was tall, but he still towered over me.
Taking a step back from temptation, I rounded for my locker, needing to get far away from him.
“There’re extra shirts and aprons in the bottom locker,” he replied, his voice following me down the hall.
Out of sight, I banged my head into the lockers, sinking against them. The last thing I needed was to work with him all night. Being around him whipped my hormones into tiny bits, and it angered me. I was so good at being reasonable, logical, and organized. I had to be. But he had a way of slipping outside of my control.
Changing into the tank, I pulled my wet hair into a ponytail and walked back to the bar, shutting off all my emotions like a robot.
The room was a ghost town compared to normal Wednesdays. The rain kept everyone from venturing out into the cool, damp night.
I tried to keep busy, cleaning everything and staying away from Lincoln as much as I could. I faked a smile for my few tables but stayed quiet every time Lincoln tried to talk to me.
At nine thirty, the kitchen staff went home, and there were just two regulars at the far end of the bar, Rick and his buddy, Kyle, watching the game Lincoln turned on for them. We only had one TV and he kept it off most days, not wanting to become a sports bar, although he pulled it out for big games.
“Hey.”
Refilling the already stocked napkins, lost in my own world, his deep voice made my heart leap into my throat. My gaze darted over to the wall of the small wait station.
He stood there with arms laid on the top, his chin on his hands, peering down at me.
“Did you want to go home? It’s really quiet here.”
“It’s not even ten,” I countered. Defensive. Now my stomach dropped at the idea of not being near him. “More people might come in.” Make up your mind. I actively stayed away from him all night but now, given the opportunity, I didn’t want to go.
He watched me for a few beats, the area around his eyes tightening as if he were trying to decide something.
“Fuck it.” He wheeled around, rambling to the front door. “You guys good? Want to stay?” He pointed to Rick and Kyle.
They both nodded, drinking their beers, and going back to the game.
“What are you doing?” I padded after him, watching him slip the closed sign on the door and locking it.
“I’m shutting early.” He left the keys dangling in the door, walking back to the bar. “Just let me know when you guys want to go, but you’re welcome to stay until closing.”
“Thanks, man.” Rick lifted his beer in appreciation then went back to the TV.
“Why are you shutting early?” Did he want to get rid of me that badly?
“Because I’m the boss and I can do it.” He smirked, traveling behind the bar. “What do you want?”
“What?” I gripped the backs of the barstools, stepping in between them, closer to the bar.
“To drink?” The side of his mouth edged up in a grin, flooding my skin with searing heat. “It seemed you had a really shitty day. Mine hasn’t been great either. Thought we could watch the game and get drunk.”
Nerves twirled and danced in my stomach. Getting drunk with Lincoln was the stupidest idea ever proposed, but once again, logic went out the door. I seemed to be in a really stupid frame of mind. A smile split my lips, and I scooted onto a barstool.
“Tequila.”
“You don’t fool around. Straight to it.” His grin widened. “I like that.”
Instead of grabbing for our house stock, he reached up to the top shelf, pulling down Gran Patron Platinum, one of our good tequilas. He cascaded a hefty pour over ice cubes, squeezing lime over it.
“This is the kind you can sip. It’s smooth and smoky.” He slid the drinks over the bar to me. Walking around, he took the chair closest to me, his knee brushing my thigh. My heart soared.
I grabbed the glass, taking a gulp. It didn’t burn so much as warm my belly, and I didn’t want to chase it with anything else.
“That’s nice.” I coughed, my voice scratchy.
“Didn’t I say to sip it?” He chuckled, rubbing my back, charging electric shocks up and down my spine.
Damn. Why do you have to touch me? I thought, sitting up. My willpower already hovered near the ground. One touch and I felt that girl, who was direct and went after what she wanted, open her eyes. The girl I had been in that bathroom so many years ago.
We finished our drinks, silently watching the game. He refilled both, my body becoming loose and toasty. The crushing weight I’d felt for so long eased and lifted, letting me breathe for a moment.
“No. Damn it,” Lincoln shouted at the TV, taking another swig.
I glanced at him peripherally, trying to see if this time I could recognize anything which might confirm this gut feeling I had. But my memory was hazy, and I no longer knew if it were real or something I had made up over time. I had been tipsy then too.
My attention moved to Lincoln’s lips as he licked the tequila from them. I almost didn’t care who he was; I wanted to feel this man’s mouth on me. All over my body.
His head darted to me, almost as if he heard my thoughts, his intense regard pinning me in place.
“So?” His tongue slid over his lips again. “What happened today? Besides the piece-of-shit car finally breaking down. I know it’s more than the car.”
“Hey. My car has been faithful to me for a long time.”
“Faithful?” He chuckled. “It sounds like your faithful companion just died on you.”
My spine went straight, his words stabbing deeper than he thought.
“There.” Humor dropped away, his voice going low. “This is what I’m talking about. You are so young, but there is such sadness in you.”
His statement mixed up my head. He wasn’t supposed to see my layers. He didn’t know me well enough, and I was good at pretending things were fine.
“Now you are getting defensive.” His hand circled my wrist, and he twisted to face me. “Don’t worry, you hide it well.”
“Then how do you see it?” All I could feel was the warmth of his fingers wrapped around my skin.
“You notice the same characteristics in someone else when you’re also good at keeping up a wall.”
“And what are you trying to keep out?” I whispered.
He let go of my hand, leaning in closer. “You.”
“What?” My heart tipped over.
He swallowed, his brows furrowing. “I mean you go first.”
“You’re going to be sorry you asked.” I twisted in my chair. His knee pressed into my hip, but neither of us moved. “Most people are.”
“Try me.” His breath seemed to glide straight down between my breasts.
I wasn’t one to talk a lot about my private life. In my hometown, we never had to. The gossip spread for us. With him, though, I could feel his own pain sloshing around behind his armored walls.
“Besides my car breaking down…” I arched back, getting away from his nearness. “My mother was diagnosed with exceedingly rare early-onset Alzheimer’s over five years ago. Early-onset is a really unusual form of Alzheimer’s but more aggressive. It tends to run in families. She’s in the final stages…and today I had to verify the paperwork that dictated I would let her die when she could no longer breathe on her own.”
There. You asked for it.
He blinked a few times. “Holy shit, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
Good to know Nat was a trustworthy confidante.
“Over five years ago?” He rubbed his beard. “How old were you when you found out?”
“Seventeen.” I took a guzzle of my drink, chasing the feeling of weightlessness. “My birthday was right before the holiday.”
“Seventeen? Wait, your birthday was a week ago?” He frowned and shook his head, then scoured his face with one hand. “Shit.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing.” He chuckled sardonically, running his fingers over his cropped brown hair to his neck. “You’re so young to be dealing with something like this.”
“Yeah, I am, but tragedy doesn’t come with an age requirement.”
Still smirking about a joke I didn’t get, his gaze landed back to me. He shook his head, letting the strange reaction drop away, muttering, “Too late now.”
I pulled the top drawer open again, feeling all the way to the rear for a false back.
Nope. It was solid.
Dropping down in his chair, I sighed. I was being stupid, trying to find something that wasn’t there. My paranoia and need to fit everything in a box was getting the better of me.
I shoved myself up, needing to get out of the office soon, my hands gripping the lip of the desk. Like a snap of a magnet, the two-inch depth of the tabletop popped out, revealing a shallow drawer.
“Holy shit.” Adrenaline filled my veins. I had never seen a desk do that. A secret compartment in the tabletop itself. Most would think it was solid wood, but really it was hollow, holding another drawer in its ordinary appearance.
Struggling to swallow, I listened for any noise in the hallway before pulling out the hidden compartment. My attention locked on the two objects held inside; a sealed puffy vanilla envelope about the size of a book and what looked like a driver’s license.
Uneasily, I picked up the license, my eyes rolling over the picture, staring at Lincoln’s face. He had black hair cut spiky and short and light scruff, but it was definitely him. I’d know his jaw and stern expression anywhere.
My stomach dropped.
Name: Jake Smith
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
“What the hell?” I whispered, examining every detail to make sure I wasn’t wrong.
No. It was Lincoln. It was the only thing I knew. But Jake Smith with green eyes and black hair stared back at me. Hair you can change, but eyes?
“You wear contacts?”
“Yeah. Nearsighted.”
The moment we had in his office almost a month ago flashed back into my head. He had been curt and defensive. What if those contacts covered green eyes?
Who was Jake Smith, and what was Lincoln hiding?
“Devon?” Nat’s voice sang from the passage. “Where are you?”
“Shit.” I tossed the license back in the compartment and closed the drawer, the magnet clicking back in place, and I scuttled out of the office, like a thief in the night.
My gut had been right. Lincoln was hiding something, and I planned on finding out what.
Jake Smith or Lincoln Kessler, I would find out who they were.
Chapter Fifteen
After a tearful goodbye with Skylar, I was left alone in the house with nothing but my nagging thoughts. Mondays and Tuesdays were my days off. Opening the laptop my sister and I shared, I searched for Jake Smith and Lincoln Kessler on social media. The number of Jake Smiths was astronomical. It took all day and most of Tuesday morning to sleuth out the few contenders, and they all led to dead ends. Lincoln Kessler was no different.
Whoever they were, they stayed far from social media.
Unable to stop myself, I Googled Finn Montgomery. There were several, but none were the guy I encountered at Sue’s Diner. I didn’t see any reports about the guy in jail.
Frustrated, I sagged back in my chair, rubbing my forehead. The buzz of my cell jiggled on the table next to me. Picking it up, a name and number flashed across. My chest clenched, lashing fear into my lungs. I lifted the phone to my ear, dread burning down my neck.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Devon Thorpe?”
“Yes.” I swallowed.
“Nurse Bethany told me to call you.”
Please. No.
“Your mother has taken a bad fall.”
“But she’s still alive?” My hand strangled my phone.
“Yes. She got a nasty cut on her head and a minor concussion. Bethany thought you should know. Maybe you could come see her. She thinks it will help calm your mom seeing a friendly face.”
“Of course.” I jumped from my chair. “I’m on my way.”
Hanging up, I grabbed my jacket and tote bag and sprinted out the door to my car. Now that the weather was colder, the engine turned over and over.
“Come on! Not now!” I hit the steering wheel, but the car had no compassion for my emergency. “Damn it!” I slammed the door shut, stomping toward the bus stop.
Thankfully, the facility wasn’t too far away, and I got there in less than twenty minutes.
“Hi.” I ran to the check-in counter, out of breath. “Here to see Alyssa Thorpe.”
“Devon!” Bethany came from the hallway, waving me over. “Follow me.”
She led me down the passage to my mother’s room.
Bony and fragile, the bed engulfed her frame. A large bandage was wrapped around her head and slightly bloody at the temple. Her lids were lowered, as if she were asleep.
“She got really scared and unsure where she was afterward.” Bethany motioned me forward. “It might help even to hear your voice. She seems to have the strongest connection to you.”
My shoes slid over the smooth floor, inching quietly to her.
“Mom?” I whispered, wrapping my fingers around the bars on her bed which kept her from rolling out. “Mom, are you awake?”
Her lashes fluttered, tilting her head to peer up at me. Blinking a few times, her dry, cracked lips parted. “Devy?” It was garbled and low, but I had heard it. My name. A relieved cry shot from my mouth, my heart constricting. She hadn’t said my name in a long time.
“Yes, Mom. I’m here.” I cupped her hand, holding it like a lifeline, a wobbly smile on my mouth.
Trembling, she drew my hand to her lips, murmuring almost inaudibly. “I love you.”
The world fell away, her words filling a hole, an ache, I didn’t realize was there until she verbalized it. “I love you too, Mom.” Emotion clotted in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. She sighed, her lids closing. She tucked her head into the pillow as exhaustion took over. Clutching her hand firmer, I leaned over and kissed her head. “So much.”
Sensing Bethany behind me, I rubbed away the stray tear, tucked the blanket higher around my mom’s bony shoulders, and turned around.
“Sorry.” I sniffled, wiping my nose.
“Oh, honey, you have nothing to apologize for. What you are going through… You have been so brave and strong.” Bethany soothed me. “Honestly, you amaze me. Someone your age dealing with so much. Alyssa is so lucky to have you.”
Laboring to swallow, my gaze went to my brown boots.
“I hate to add to your load. But we really need you to go over the papers.”
“You don’t need Amelia too?”
“No.” Bethany rattled her head. “Your mom gave you the power of attorney over everything.”
I’d known from the beginning she had made all the decisions. But it still felt it was up to me, the final decision to let her go or not.
Another loaded brick weighed down my bones.
Giving my mother one last kiss, I followed Bethany down the hall. My signature was about to solidify my mother’s decisions. It really put things in perspective. My Nancy Drew quest earlier seemed painfully inconsequential.
I no longer cared who Jake Smith or Lincoln Kessler were.
Nothing felt important except my family.
The bus to work was late, and I had left the apartment without my black work shirt or comfy shoes. Unseasonably early rain began to pour, so I had to run from the bus stop to the saloon, plastering my long hair to my face.
Reaching the front door, I swung it open, hoping I could slip in without too much notice, as I was thirty minutes late.
The sound of my boots squeaking over the wood as I jerked to a stop raised the few heads already at the bar.
Oh shit.
Nat and I always worked together, our schedules and days off in sync. Miguel worked weekends, Mondays and Tuesdays.
But it wasn’t Nat or Miguel behind the bar.
“You’re late.” Lincoln placed his hands on the top, his gaze taking me in. “What happened to you?”
Approaching him like a wild animal, I peered around, hoping to see Nat coming from the kitchen or bathroom.
“Where’s Nat?”
“She called in; her kid’s sick.”
“Oh.”
His forehead lined, his eyes still roaming over me. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
A tight laugh came from me. “Do I look that bad?” I nipped at my bottom lip, my heart still back in the office with Bethany. My signature set the truth in stone. It felt like my mother’s life was in my hands and was too heavy to hold by myself.
“No, you’re always gor—” He stopped, glancing away, clearing his throat. “Just curious why you’re soaking wet and late.”
“My car broke down, and it took longer on the bus to get here from the facility than I thought.” I grumbled, unzipping my jacket, dripping water everywhere. “Oh, and I forgot my shirt.”
“Facility? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” I rolled up my jacket, my feet shuffling toward the lockers in the back. “Do you have an extra shirt and apron?”
“Devon. Stop.” He stepped out from the bar, moving so close I had to look up at him. “What’s going on?”
Irritation flashed over my expression, lowering my eyebrows. “Why? You don’t care. I apologize I’m late. It won’t ever happen again, boss.”
“You don’t think I care?” He frowned, tilting in even closer.
“Are you going to fire me?” I demanded. My temper always flared when I was barely holding on. It was the only way to keep from curling into a ball or falling apart.
“No.” He eyed me, pressing his lips together, his rich, warm, manly smell curling in my nose.
Damn, even a total mess, my body still reacted to his. He was in his usual dark jeans and black T-shirt. He filled them out without being one of those who bought a size smaller to look bigger, like Miguel. He simply was. Broad shoulders, huge arms and hands. His jeans could not hide his toned thighs. And I was tall, but he still towered over me.
Taking a step back from temptation, I rounded for my locker, needing to get far away from him.
“There’re extra shirts and aprons in the bottom locker,” he replied, his voice following me down the hall.
Out of sight, I banged my head into the lockers, sinking against them. The last thing I needed was to work with him all night. Being around him whipped my hormones into tiny bits, and it angered me. I was so good at being reasonable, logical, and organized. I had to be. But he had a way of slipping outside of my control.
Changing into the tank, I pulled my wet hair into a ponytail and walked back to the bar, shutting off all my emotions like a robot.
The room was a ghost town compared to normal Wednesdays. The rain kept everyone from venturing out into the cool, damp night.
I tried to keep busy, cleaning everything and staying away from Lincoln as much as I could. I faked a smile for my few tables but stayed quiet every time Lincoln tried to talk to me.
At nine thirty, the kitchen staff went home, and there were just two regulars at the far end of the bar, Rick and his buddy, Kyle, watching the game Lincoln turned on for them. We only had one TV and he kept it off most days, not wanting to become a sports bar, although he pulled it out for big games.
“Hey.”
Refilling the already stocked napkins, lost in my own world, his deep voice made my heart leap into my throat. My gaze darted over to the wall of the small wait station.
He stood there with arms laid on the top, his chin on his hands, peering down at me.
“Did you want to go home? It’s really quiet here.”
“It’s not even ten,” I countered. Defensive. Now my stomach dropped at the idea of not being near him. “More people might come in.” Make up your mind. I actively stayed away from him all night but now, given the opportunity, I didn’t want to go.
He watched me for a few beats, the area around his eyes tightening as if he were trying to decide something.
“Fuck it.” He wheeled around, rambling to the front door. “You guys good? Want to stay?” He pointed to Rick and Kyle.
They both nodded, drinking their beers, and going back to the game.
“What are you doing?” I padded after him, watching him slip the closed sign on the door and locking it.
“I’m shutting early.” He left the keys dangling in the door, walking back to the bar. “Just let me know when you guys want to go, but you’re welcome to stay until closing.”
“Thanks, man.” Rick lifted his beer in appreciation then went back to the TV.
“Why are you shutting early?” Did he want to get rid of me that badly?
“Because I’m the boss and I can do it.” He smirked, traveling behind the bar. “What do you want?”
“What?” I gripped the backs of the barstools, stepping in between them, closer to the bar.
“To drink?” The side of his mouth edged up in a grin, flooding my skin with searing heat. “It seemed you had a really shitty day. Mine hasn’t been great either. Thought we could watch the game and get drunk.”
Nerves twirled and danced in my stomach. Getting drunk with Lincoln was the stupidest idea ever proposed, but once again, logic went out the door. I seemed to be in a really stupid frame of mind. A smile split my lips, and I scooted onto a barstool.
“Tequila.”
“You don’t fool around. Straight to it.” His grin widened. “I like that.”
Instead of grabbing for our house stock, he reached up to the top shelf, pulling down Gran Patron Platinum, one of our good tequilas. He cascaded a hefty pour over ice cubes, squeezing lime over it.
“This is the kind you can sip. It’s smooth and smoky.” He slid the drinks over the bar to me. Walking around, he took the chair closest to me, his knee brushing my thigh. My heart soared.
I grabbed the glass, taking a gulp. It didn’t burn so much as warm my belly, and I didn’t want to chase it with anything else.
“That’s nice.” I coughed, my voice scratchy.
“Didn’t I say to sip it?” He chuckled, rubbing my back, charging electric shocks up and down my spine.
Damn. Why do you have to touch me? I thought, sitting up. My willpower already hovered near the ground. One touch and I felt that girl, who was direct and went after what she wanted, open her eyes. The girl I had been in that bathroom so many years ago.
We finished our drinks, silently watching the game. He refilled both, my body becoming loose and toasty. The crushing weight I’d felt for so long eased and lifted, letting me breathe for a moment.
“No. Damn it,” Lincoln shouted at the TV, taking another swig.
I glanced at him peripherally, trying to see if this time I could recognize anything which might confirm this gut feeling I had. But my memory was hazy, and I no longer knew if it were real or something I had made up over time. I had been tipsy then too.
My attention moved to Lincoln’s lips as he licked the tequila from them. I almost didn’t care who he was; I wanted to feel this man’s mouth on me. All over my body.
His head darted to me, almost as if he heard my thoughts, his intense regard pinning me in place.
“So?” His tongue slid over his lips again. “What happened today? Besides the piece-of-shit car finally breaking down. I know it’s more than the car.”
“Hey. My car has been faithful to me for a long time.”
“Faithful?” He chuckled. “It sounds like your faithful companion just died on you.”
My spine went straight, his words stabbing deeper than he thought.
“There.” Humor dropped away, his voice going low. “This is what I’m talking about. You are so young, but there is such sadness in you.”
His statement mixed up my head. He wasn’t supposed to see my layers. He didn’t know me well enough, and I was good at pretending things were fine.
“Now you are getting defensive.” His hand circled my wrist, and he twisted to face me. “Don’t worry, you hide it well.”
“Then how do you see it?” All I could feel was the warmth of his fingers wrapped around my skin.
“You notice the same characteristics in someone else when you’re also good at keeping up a wall.”
“And what are you trying to keep out?” I whispered.
He let go of my hand, leaning in closer. “You.”
“What?” My heart tipped over.
He swallowed, his brows furrowing. “I mean you go first.”
“You’re going to be sorry you asked.” I twisted in my chair. His knee pressed into my hip, but neither of us moved. “Most people are.”
“Try me.” His breath seemed to glide straight down between my breasts.
I wasn’t one to talk a lot about my private life. In my hometown, we never had to. The gossip spread for us. With him, though, I could feel his own pain sloshing around behind his armored walls.
“Besides my car breaking down…” I arched back, getting away from his nearness. “My mother was diagnosed with exceedingly rare early-onset Alzheimer’s over five years ago. Early-onset is a really unusual form of Alzheimer’s but more aggressive. It tends to run in families. She’s in the final stages…and today I had to verify the paperwork that dictated I would let her die when she could no longer breathe on her own.”
There. You asked for it.
He blinked a few times. “Holy shit, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
Good to know Nat was a trustworthy confidante.
“Over five years ago?” He rubbed his beard. “How old were you when you found out?”
“Seventeen.” I took a guzzle of my drink, chasing the feeling of weightlessness. “My birthday was right before the holiday.”
“Seventeen? Wait, your birthday was a week ago?” He frowned and shook his head, then scoured his face with one hand. “Shit.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing.” He chuckled sardonically, running his fingers over his cropped brown hair to his neck. “You’re so young to be dealing with something like this.”
“Yeah, I am, but tragedy doesn’t come with an age requirement.”
Still smirking about a joke I didn’t get, his gaze landed back to me. He shook his head, letting the strange reaction drop away, muttering, “Too late now.”
