MY HEAD RESTS AGAINST LINCOLN’S shoulder as the car, driven by one of Barrett’s staff, rumbles down the road. The plane ride to Savannah was fast, uneventful, and quite frankly, the best trip I’ve ever taken. First class and sitting next to him, breathing him in, feeling his touch, watching women beg him for attention while he held my hand was pretty much the stuff dreams are made of.

Lincoln squeezes my hand, our fingers interlocked as they have been since we got in the car. “You okay?”

I’m not sure if I am okay. Right now, I’m perfect. I haven’t felt this excited about something since I was a little girl and I’m not even sure what it is I’m excited about. Spending time with Lincoln? Being a part of something bigger on a holiday? Feeling this happiness in my heart? Maybe some of all of it. But with the good, comes the bad. There’s the unknown of what happens when we get home.

This feels right. Being with him always feels right. But how do you trust your heart when your brain is screaming you know better? When as soon as you start feeling good about things, a photo essay flashes before your eyes highlighting the resemblances in past mistakes and this situation?

The uncertainty of what’s ultimately right, not what feels right at this moment, keeps me wobbly. So I do what any crazy person does: I don’t think about it. Pasting on a smile and reminding myself I’m enjoying this weekend for what it is, I squeeze his hand back.

“I’m good,” I say.

“I hope so. I’m just really glad to have you here.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the top. When my phone rings inside my purse, I think about not answering it because it means taking my hand out of his. He seems to figure that out and laughs, using his free hand to unlace ours. “Get it.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I dig through my bag and pull out the glowing device. “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry to call you while you’re on holiday,” Gretchen rushes, “but I have news. Big news!”

“Really?” I squirm in my seat. This can go one of two ways. “What is it?”

“I just got a call from the business office, Danielle. There’s been a donation to the department. Big enough that we don’t have to worry about anything until mid-year next year! We can stay fully staffed and under normal operations for the time being.”

I can hear the emotion in her throat and it causes my own to clench shut. My mind races with all this means—continued service to so many children and their families. A job. Hope.

How did we get so lucky?

“I’m in disbelief,” she chokes out. “I haven’t slept in nearly two weeks. I’m drinking a mai-tai to celebrate and then I’m passing out.”

“Who made the donation? We need to thank them somehow.” I glance at Lincoln as he shifts away from me ever-so-slightly. “I feel like a load of stress has just evaporated from my shoulders.”

“We don’t. It was made anonymously this morning.”

A twitch pinches my gut, hidden away in that place that only triggers when you know something you don’t know you know. It crawls out, over my heart, making it tingle, and to my brain. “We don’t, huh?” I look at Lincoln’s profile, all angles and scruff. He refuses to look at me.

“No. But whoever it is deserves a huge hug. And a kiss.” She rattles on and on while I watch Lincoln pointedly not look at me.

“Are you still there, Danielle?”

“Yes,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Such great news. Thank you for calling. I’ll see you at work on Monday!”

“See you then. Happy Thanksgiving.” The phone goes back in my bag as I continue to wait for Lincoln to look at me. “Guess what?”

“What’s that?” He faces me, his eyes cautious.

“Someone anonymously donated enough money to keep our program going for a while. Isn’t that nice?”

“That’s awesome, Dani.”

“You, uh, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Instinctively, he leans away. It’s so slight, so barely noticeable that I know he doesn’t realize he’s done it. And therefore, given himself up.

“Why would I?”

“I think you do, Landry.” My hand rests on his knee, and with even pressure, I run it up his muscled thigh to the bend of his jeans.

“I think you’re crazy,” he gulps, nodding towards Troy as if he’s reminding me he’s there.

“Don’t act innocent. No one believes you.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he grins, “I’m happy to fuck you right here.”

“Landry!” I exclaim, my cheeks burning.

He chuckles in return while Troy, ever the professional, pretends not to notice. The car pulls up to the entrance of the Farm. It is beautiful. An ornate gate opens, and a long, winding driveway extends in front of us. Hedges block any visibility from the road, and it’s not until we are rounding a bend that I can see the house.

Why they call it a farmhouse is beyond me. That word paints an image of a little white house with a chicken coop. This is a Southern plantation. A huge, wide porch with pillars looks to encompass the entire place. Mums line whiskey barrels and give the clean exterior pops of burgundy, orange, and yellow. It’s breathtaking.

“This is gorgeous,” I breathe as it comes into full view. “Not what I expected.”

“This is my second favorite place in the world,” he whispers against my ear.

“Second? What could be more perfect that this?”

“Inside you.”

Before he can pull away, I turn my face so my lips capture his. He deepens the kiss, our lips working against one another in perfect harmony. As we pull away, breathless, he grins. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll ensure you come later,” I promise.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckles as the car rolls to a stop. “I like it.”

“You will.”

Looking around the fields leading to a spectacular tree line of evergreens, I feel my heartbeat pick up. I practice my even breathing technique so I don’t panic. “Who are all these people?”

A swarm of people seems to pop out from all directions. A regal couple stand on the porch, and I figure them to be Lincoln’s parents by their age. Another man comes out the front door and down the steps towards the car. He looks like Lincoln, just more distinguished in his navy button-up and open collar. I vaguely recognize him as Barrett Landry from random magazine articles.

From the side of the house comes a stockier, clean cut version of the same cloth. With his black track pants and long-sleeve white shirt, he looks military. At his side is a female, younger than Lincoln, in ripped jeans and an orange off-the-shoulder shirt. Her long, blonde hair is purple at the ends.

“My family,” Lincoln smiles the widest I’ve ever seen. “Come on!” Without waiting for Troy to open the door, Lincoln slides out, nearly pulling me along with him. His excitement is contagious and, despite the tinge of panic, I find myself smiling.

“Hey,” Lincoln calls, pulling one of his brothers in a bear hug. “How are you, Barrett?”

“Good. How was the trip?”

“Great. Where’s Alison?”

“Fuck off,” Barrett laughs, stepping to the side. “Who is this?” He heads my way, his eyes sparkling. “I’m Barrett. Nice to meet you.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before extending my hand to him. “I’m Danielle Ashley. Nice to meet you.”

He walks right past my hand and pulls me into a quick hug. “We don’t shake hands in this family,” he laughs.

“Easy with the hug,” Lincoln laughs, shoving him gently.

Barrett chuckles as the other siblings reach us. Lincoln greets them both before standing beside me, his hand around my waist. “Danielle, this is Ford and Sienna. Guys, this is my girl.”

My reaction to his declaration in front of his family is pasted on my face. Sienna laughs right before she, too, pulls me into a hug. “It’s so great to meet you,” she says, her eyes shining. “He treats you right, right? Because if not, I’ll take care of him.”

“He’s great,” I blush.

“Don’t say that,” Ford says, stepping to me and rolling his eyes. “You’ll make his ego even bigger. I’m Ford.” We hug. Naturally.

“Tell us about you,” Sienna says. “Forego the normal introduction stuff. Tell us what you enjoy. What you love.”

“She loves my cock,” Lincoln interjects.

“Oh my God,” Sienna says, her hands covering her ears.

“That’s great, Linc! I’m so glad the surgeons could create one from your pussy,” Ford jokes.

“Fuck you guys,” Lincoln laughs.

His fingers dip into my skin. I’m not sure if it’s to remind me that even though he’s conversing with his family, his mind is on me, but that’s what it does. My heart fills with warmth and as I try to fight this feeling, of maybe falling in love, the sensation takes over.

“Let’s go say hi to Mom and Dad,” Lincoln says.

He guides me to the porch, his brothers and sister bantering back and forth in a way I’ve never seen before. The love that fills these siblings is so apparent, so dynamic. I could watch their facial expressions and listen to their stories for days.

“There’s my baby boy!” The woman has her arms out for Lincoln before he gets there. She’s dressed in beige slacks and a purple top with a long gold necklace that catches the sunlight. Her hair is perfectly coiffed. She’s beautiful. “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad to have you home.” “Missed you too.” Lincoln kisses her cheek and smiles at her more warmly than I’ve ever seen him look at anyone. The love between them tugs at my heart. He turns on his heel and extends a hand to his father.

He takes it, pulling him in to a quick, more formal embrace. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, Son. Good to see you. How’s that arm feeling?”

“Pretty good. A little sore, but therapy keeps it that way.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Lincoln. You’re gonna be fine.”

Lincoln nods stiffly before turning towards me. “Mom, Dad—I want to introduce you to Danielle Ashley. Dani, these are my parents.”

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Landry,” I say, hoping I come across way more cool than I feel. I’ve met distinguished people a hundred times in my life. Why the nerves are kicking my ass now is beyond me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Mrs. Landry says softly, her hand patting my back as she leans in. “It’s Vivian. Mrs. Landry was my mother-in-law.” She sends me a quick wink before turning to her husband.

“It’s nice to meet you,” her husband says, shaking my hand. He gives me a kind smile, but I can tell he’s distracted. “Lincoln, want to take a walk with me?”

I grab on to his bicep as he looks warily at me. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” he asks, his brows pulled together.

“I’m sure. I’m a big girl.”

Vivian places a hand on my shoulder. “Go on with your father,” she tells her son. “I’ll take Danielle inside and we’ll get her some food. You hungry, dear?” she asks me.

“A little.” I’m not, but I want Lincoln to go. He needs to, I think. “I’ll be inside when you get back.

He kisses my cheek, much to his mother’s amusement, and takes off down the stairs with his father.

“Do you like soup?” she asks.

I almost laugh. “Soup is great.”