He can’t protect you forever.
My stomach dropped. The broom slid from my hands and hit the floor with a loud clatter that echoed through the stillness.
For a heartbeat, I just stood there. The soft buzz of the overhead lights became too loud, filling the air until it felt like static under my skin. My pulse hammered in my ears.
This wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t jealousy or some joke gone wrong. It was deliberate. Focused. The weight of it pressed through my chest and into my spine until breathing hurt.
And somehow, it had made it here. Into my space. My safe place.
Lincoln’s warnings ran through my head. The times he’d gone still when I brushed off his concern. The way his eyes scanned the parking lot before I locked up. I’d thought he was being overprotective, just his nature to hover and watch. I hadn’t realized he’d been keeping things from me.
If this note had reached me, whoever was leaving them was getting bolder.
The bell above the door jingled. The sudden sound tore through the silence and made me jump so hard the paper nearly ripped in my hands.
“Kristin?” It was Lincoln’s voice.
Relief hit so fast it stole the air from my lungs. I turned, and there he was, framed by the light outside, hat pulled low, broad shoulders filling the doorway like he belonged there. Seeing him felt like stepping into warmth after standing in the cold too long.
The second his eyes found mine, his jaw tightened. “What happened?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. I only held out the paper with shaking fingers.
He crossed the room in two strides and took it. His eyes skimmed the words once, and his body went rigid. The muscles in his forearm shifted, his fingers curling around the edge of the note until the paper creased.
“Damn it.” He ran a hand over his jaw, the motion rough. “I should’ve been here sooner.”
The words pierced. “Sooner?” My voice cracked. “Lincoln, what do you mean sooner?”
He froze. His gaze lifted to mine.
“You knew.” The words left me before I could stop them. The truth landed hard. “You’ve seen these before, haven’t you?”
His silence told me everything.
My throat tightened. I stumbled back until my hip hit the counter. “How many?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How many?”
His eyes flashed, angry but not at me. At himself. “Enough.”
My stomach turned. The room spun slightly. Every moment of him insisting on walking me to my truck, locking up for me, steering me away from the mailbox flashed through my mind. I’d laughed it off, calling him stubborn. All the while, he’d been catching threats before they reached me.
And this one had slipped through.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, the edge of the counter digging into my back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you living scared.” His voice was rough but calm, steady the way it always got when anger threatened to break loose. “I thought I could stop him before it reached you. Keep you safe without putting that weight on you.”
“Lincoln.”
“I was wrong.” His tone dropped. He slammed the note onto the counter, jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped in his temple. “And I’ll make sure he never gets this close again.”
The paper fluttered once, then went still.
My chest hurt. Fear twisted with fury. “You should’ve trusted me. I had a right to know.”
