Chapter Eighteen

 

Whores, Gold-diggers, and the Weak

Present Day

 

 

 

 

Lincoln leans back into the sectional and runs a hand down his face, pulling a tired sigh from his lips. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“I know,” I glumly reply from an armchair, studying his body language from a safe distance across the living room.

He pulls a pillow out from beneath him. “Third time’s a charm,” he mutters, tossing it to the side.

With a whiskey sour wrapped in my hands, I watch his gaze climb the curved staircase and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. I can see the whole thing playing out against those eyes of his and it breaks my heart to see him reduced to stilted movements and phrases. Bringing a cold bottle of beer to his lips, he tips it back and takes a quick pull. My eyes trip over the black duffel bag lying next to the fireplace and it’s such a silly thing to wonder, I nearly laugh. The unreadable look on his face makes me squirm. A premonition of Lincoln going to the police creeps into my mind like a thief in the night – the dreaded worst-case scenario. Pushing the tormented thought to the side, another vision sweeps through like a summer storm. One of him grabbing that duffel bag and never looking back – second worst-case scenario. This one frightens me the most because, unlike the prior, this thought could come to pass. If he’s smart, and he is, he’ll put all this bullshit behind him and move on. That’s what any sane person would do and I’m surprised he’s still here.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hiding behind my rocks glass.

His eyes jerk to me and I melt into the chair. “Me too.”

We grow quiet and I don’t know what that meant. I don’t know why he’s still here and I don’t know what to say next. So I drink. Warmth floods my turning stomach. The fridge kicks on, laying down a steady hum that’s so light you can only hear it in the dead of night. Like now. The thought of never seeing Lincoln again tears me in two but I have to start getting used to the idea because I’ve got a house to sell and a new life to begin. I’m going to need my wits about me to make it out of here in one piece.

“Did he really use a belt?”

I look away and shift in the armchair, unable to hold his heavy gaze. Out of everything Jack did to me, the belt was the worst. The most humiliating thing someone could do to a grown woman. “Sometimes.”

“For what?”

“Stupid stuff,” I reply, avoiding eye contact. “It was only a time or two.” Or maybe it was ten. At some point, I lost count.

“Only?” Lincoln blows out an uneasy breath. “Why? Why did you stay?”

I turn to find him staring at me. I should’ve left Jack and, for the life of me, don’t know why I didn’t. No, that’s not exactly true. “I was scared,” I whisper, cradling my drink in both hands.

“Scared of what?”

“Escaping.” Stockholm syndrome whisks through my mind and I blink it away. That wasn’t my survival strategy. Truth is, I didn’t have a strategy. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared he’d kill me if I left him, and scared he’d kill me if I didn’t.

Leaning forward, Lincoln sets his beer down and buries his face in his hands. “I should’ve made you leave him after he hit you the first time and I’m sorry I didn’t.” He pulls his face from his hands and rubs them together. “I’m sorry I didn’t drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

His words echo in my ears and I can’t move. I’m frozen by his bold admission and can only speak in a frightened whisper. “Lincoln, you tried.”

“Not hard enough! I should’ve called the police!”

I shake my head. “No, people would’ve looked at me differently. It would’ve changed me.”

“It already did!” he shouts, making me nearly spill my drink.

Drawing a deep breath, I soften my tone. “Lincoln, look how people react when women come forward in cases like this.” I sweep a hand across the room. “They call them whores, gold-diggers, and weak. Until that changes, nobody wants to come forward. Especially me.” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Look, I don’t want to be famous or write a book. I don’t want to be the poster child for domestic abuse. I just want to be…”

“Loved?”

Looking away, I sip my drink and wish I was somewhere else.

Coming over to me, he takes my hand and pulls me next to him on the couch. He’s warm and smells like a man. His steady eyes excite my insides and I’m unable to look away. “You can’t stay here,” he tells me. “You’ll be looking over your shoulder the rest of your life. That guy will be back when the money from the car runs out.”

“I know,” I confess, envisioning a future of sleepless nights and triple-locked doors.

“You need a fresh start, far from here.”

Quietly, I nod my agreement.

“And I know exactly where we should go. I’ve already researched it.”

Blood rushes into my cheeks. Pulse bangs in my neck. Words won’t come and I want to scream because I need to talk now more than ever but I can’t get anything out. It’s like someone punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind from my sails. Finally, through a rolling fog of disbelief, one tiny word escapes my red-stained lips. “We?”

He tips his chin down and squeezes my hand. “We.”

I don’t know what to say. I can hardly believe it. After everything I just told him, there’s still a we? How can that be? What kind of love is this? And how can I get more? My walls come crumbling down and now I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, there will never be another man like Lincoln McConnel. I could spend the rest of my life searching and never come close. When Jack was here, I sometimes felt sorry for myself, asking what I did to deserve this and how I got here. Inevitably, my answer was always the same. Nothing. I did nothing to deserve this and it is time to stop punishing myself for it. It’s time to grab the bull by the horns and do something for me for once. Something I deserve.

“Unless you’ve got a problem with that,” Lincoln says, pulling me from my daring thoughts. “I can always keep making moracin carrots and lamb sliders at Lou-Lou’s for the rest of my life.”

“No, I…” Stopping to breathe in a calming breath, I set my glass down and can’t believe I almost missed him. He was standing right in front of me this whole time and, like two ships passing in the night, I almost didn’t see him. After what happened with Jack, I want to believe in love again. I long for the days when I still thought love could happen. Inhaling a sliver of a breath, I barely find my voice. “I killed your brother.”

He twists on the couch to face me, swiping his thumb across the back of my hand. “Sienna, if I’d known everything that’d been going on between you two, I would’ve killed him myself. Jack was a little prick who got exactly what he deserved.” Hanging his head, he studies his shoes. “You came to me for help more than once and I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me; you were the only one I could count on.” I cup his cheeks in my palms and tip his head up to face me. “You saved me.”

He barely kisses my lips, lighting me on fire. “Not until I get us out of here.”

“Lincoln, this is your home.”

“Not if you aren’t in it. I meant what I said before, I love you,” he says, faces just inches apart. “I’ve always loved you and I’m sorry I can’t fix the past. I can only fix the future and if you’re not in it, it’s not worth fixing.”

His words bind my tongue. No one has ever spoken to me like this before and I can tell by the glimmer in his eyes, he means every damn word. If I push what everyone else will think off to the side and look past the stigma and shame, I can see the forest for the trees. It’s as clear as the sincerity in his eyes. “I love you,” I whisper against his lips. In the blink of an eye, the weight of the world falls from my shoulders. I’m fifty pounds lighter and the colors are rich and vibrant. There’s a glow around him and I can’t tell if it’s from the floor light behind, or some supernatural radiance gifted by God Himself.

My words catch us both by surprise and Lincoln’s following silence is indicative of the shock swimming in his eyes. We stare at each other with my heart throbbing in my ears. A slow-moving grin eats into his scruffy cheeks and I smile back because those three little words have never felt better on my lips. I’m warm and tingly and letting myself go. Then we kiss. Electricity speeds up my bloodstream and it’s like I’m on some nightclub drug at three in the morning. His lips are hot and the house lights flicker as something incredible rolls through my body, fusing us together. We become one. Two lost pieces returned to whole. Drawing apart, we stare at each other to the soundtrack of our beating hearts.

“When do we leave?” I pant, leaning against his thigh.

“Tomorrow morning, at dawn. Before anyone can stop us.”

“What about your parents? And Mary?”

“We’ll deal with them later. First, we need to get out of this town before it sucks us back in. There’s nothing here for us now except bad memories and sympathetic looks. I don’t want their pity. I just want you.”

“You have to promise me you won’t tell them what I told you about Jack. You can’t tell anyone. Ever.”

His smile is easy and warm. “I promise.”

Studying him for a handful of seconds, I snuggle up closer, laying my head on his chest and it feels like a dream. “The life insurance settlement deposits next month. We can go anywhere we want.” I look up at him. “We can buy a food truck and make it work.”

He spreads a devilish grin. “I have money saved up for that.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to cook.”

“I can do that.”

Smiling, my eyes draw to a picture of Jack and I perched atop the mantel. Taken at the peak of Vail Mountain, we actually had a good day that day. A bright, sunny day when a different dream laid awake in my heart. One that would never come to pass. Sighing, I rise from the couch and cross the room for a closer look. I can’t see the evil hiding in Jack’s eyes for the sunglasses on his face, but I can see that shit-eating grin. Flipping the picture down so I can’t see him anymore (or so he can’t see me), I turn and look at Lincoln. An extremely comfortable silence falls between us. “There’s just one thing I have to do before we leave.”

A frown settles into his face. “And what’s that?”