Never there when I need them.
It’s been happening since school. If I went a week without a teacher telling me to be quiet, they worried there was something wrong. I’ve long accepted that my inability to shut my mouth at the right time would get me in trouble, and I’ve simply learned how to navigate my way out of it. But it’s when the words dry up, when my emotions grow so large even language isn’t enough to capture it, that I know I’m in too deep.
“Because I’m glad for it,” Lincoln says, dipping his chin as if to kiss me.
I might stop breathing in the second I wait for something to happen, but I’ve gone so still I ruin it, and Lincoln pulls back before our lips can meet.
He takes a seat on a nearby bench, pulling me in with both hands. “Something’s wrong,” he says, eyes shining up at me.
“How could anything be wrong in this perfect place?”
But as always, he sees beneath the facade, straight to the heart of me. I let my breath go. “Tell me something true,” I plead, threading my hand into his beautiful hair, needing an anchor.
“Kyle is a wanker.”
I can’t help a small laugh. “I already knew that. Tell me something else. Something I don’t know.”
He draws his hands up my thighs and hips, the heat of his palms easy to feel through the thin material of my dress. “If you let me, I’m going to make every moment of your future as wonderful as you are.”
It’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t blink twice at if he’d said it around his family. But there’s no one here but us. No one to play the part for.
“I wish this was real,” I whisper into the dark.
There’s day-old stubble on his cheek. It scratches my palm a little as he leans into my touch, his eyes never leaving mine. The sincerity there is almost too much to take. “It is for me. Tell me what I need to do to make it real for you too.”
It’s a good thing he’s holding me up, because I’m not sure I can feel my legs anymore.
“Is this not real?” he asks, pulling my hand up to kiss. “Is this?” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “What you feel is real.”
You think I don’t know that?What I’m feeling is the problem.
I don’t want to be everyone’s taste. I’m acquired. I want to linger.
I want to be the bar by which all other performances are measured and compared.
The legacy.
I drop my forehead against his shoulder. It’s broad, and I remember the way they flexed under my palms that night. Physically, I’m strong. But no deadlift in the world can protect my heart in this moment.
“Lincoln, I…” My breath escapes, shaky. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” It’s too hard.
His chest rises and falls in a controlled inhale. “And what’s that?”
“Pretend,” I whisper against his shirt. Maybe it’s ridiculous to be having this conversation with my head buried in his chest, but if I look up, I’ll lose my nerve. “I know I said it didn’t mean anything, but I was wrong. I can’t pretend anymore because I’ve really fallen in love with you.”
Lincoln takes my chin in his grip, tilting my head back until we lock eyes. The anger and fear I’ve been expecting isn’t there, only warmth. Fondness. Love.
“I know, darling.”
CHAPTER48
I LOVE YOU (BELIEVE ME)
LINCOLN
Now I know why there’s always been an ache in my chest, a hunger never satisfied. A part of myself held just out of reach.
My devotion has been with her, waiting to find its way back to me.
