Outside, the endless winter blue that makes everything feel exposed. Somewhere down the road, a truck engine started, and a dog barked. Life kept moving like nothing had happened.
But everything had.
I looked toward the stairs one last time, the echo of her footsteps still fading, and promised myself I’d fix this before it touched her again.
Even if it meant breaking her heart all over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KRISTIN
He said it didn’t mean anything. What the hell, how could last night have meant nothing? It meant everything. We’d consummated our marriage, we’d pushed past a wall that I’d built to keep him out and god he knew my body like nobody else.
I ached in ways I’d never admit out loud, but it was the good kind of ache. The kind that reminded me of everything we’d done on that couch, everything we’d finally let ourselves want. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and leather, as well as the sweetness of his skin. My cheek rested against the rise and fall of his breathing, the rhythm calm and confident, like the world outside couldn’t touch us here.
I should’ve felt guilty. Or ashamed. Or at least nervous. But I didn’t. I felt full. Content. Like something inside me had finally unclenched. Turning on my heel, I marched back toward the hallway and down the stairs.
“Fuck you.” I shouted when I hit the bottom step. Linc was still standing at the counter, with his coffee cup half raised to his mouth, his brow arched as he watched me stalk toward him.
“Fuck you, last night meant nothing. Three years, Lincoln, three years I waited for my body to hum like that. Three yearswaiting to be touched with such care, by someone who knows me better than I know myself. That’s what last night was. And if you’re too butt hurt to see it then fuck you,” I shouted, my breathing rapid and shallow. It was then I realized I hadn’t quit walking, and we were toe to toe, almost pressed up against one another.
Linc’s eyes met mine, and the world went silent, no sound, no movement, just the wild pounding of my heart in my ears. He reached for me, his hands shaking as they found my waist, pulling me in until there was nothing but the searing heat between us. My breath caught, and his lips brushed mine, hungry and desperate, and I felt myself unravel. The kiss deepened, his hands tangling in my hair, anchoring me as if I might float away. Every fear, every wish, every ache I’d ever hidden poured out of me and into him. The world tilted, fractured, and in that impossible, infinite moment, he was the only thing I cared about.
When we finally parted, his eyes simmered with heat, and need. “It meant everything, Tin. You’ve always meant everything to me.” He lowered his head again, and kissed me again. This time it wasn’t as fierce, it was soft, tentative, reigniting that spark that set my nerves alight.
Walking into Kipp’s house was going to be bad enough. Doing it with Lincoln at my side, his hand brushing mine like he wasn’t the least bit ashamed, that was going to be unbearable. I caught my reflection in the small mirror and almost laughed out loud. I looked wrecked and happy, a woman who had stopped fighting a battle she couldn’t win.
“You’re not walking in there alone,” he said firmly, tugging his hat into place. His tone left no room for argument.
“I think I can handle breakfast,” I muttered, though I didn’t sound convincing.
He gave me a look that said ‘no, you can’t’, and that was the end of that argument. The corner of his mouth lifted just enough to let me know he was amused.
Sure enough, the second we hit the porch, it started. The smell of bacon and coffee drifted out through the open door, mixing with the cold air. Laughter spilled through the doorway like it had been waiting for us.
“Well, well, well, look who’s making her walk of shame this morning,” Lexie sing-songed, leaning against the railing like she’d been waiting all night for this. Arms crossed, smirk wide. Her grin was bright as sunlight on snow.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but before I could open my mouth, Lincoln grumbled, “It’s not a walk of shame if you’re married to the person.” His glare could have melted paint.
Lexie barked a laugh. “No, I’m pretty sure in this situation that’s exactly what it is.”
“Lexie!” I gasped, half-horror, half-wish the house would swallow me whole. The boards creaked under my boots as I shifted my weight, wishing I could disappear into the wood.
Behind her, Nash nearly choked on his coffee, trying not to laugh. Fallon smacked him in the chest, and Nora shook her head like she was above the mess, though the twitch at her lips betrayed her. Griff leaned down as Elle whispered something in his ear, and he coughed into his hand, not fooling anyone. Ryder and Kipp both looked like they’d been dragged into a soap opera they had no interest in watching. The whole house felt alive with it, the teasing, the noise, and the warmth of people who didn’t know when to stop.
Lincoln’s arm slid around my waist, broad and possessive, and I felt the vibration of his voice before I heard it. “You think you’re funny, Lexie, but I don’t. And from her blood family no less, didn’t expect that.” His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that quieted the porch for a moment.
“Relax, Linc,” Lexie said, lifting her hands like she was innocent. “Just a little ribbing. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before you two finally.”
“Lexie Anne.” Julie’s voice cracked through the kitchen like a whip. The older woman stood there with Phil at her side, both balancing trays loaded with food. Julie’s look could have stripped the paint off the siding. “You hush your mouth before I wash it out with soap.”
Lexie’s grin faltered. “I was just,”
“Doesn’t matter what you were just,” Julie snapped, cutting her off. “Some things don’t need saying out loud.”
The crowd broke quick after that. Fallon tugged Nash toward the door, Nora marched Kipp along, Elle looped her arm through Griff’s, and Ryder shot me a sympathetic smile before slipping away. Lexie lingered the longest, but Julie’s eyes cut to her again, and she finally huffed and stalked to the living room.
I let out a shaky breath, my cheeks still hot enough to fry an egg. Lincoln’s hand hadn’t budged from my waist. His touch was steady, grounding, but my pulse raced all the same.
