Page 124 of This is a Kissing Book

Checking over my shoulder, I hurry upstairs. After tossing my sparse belongings into my bag, I edge toward the window in the hall. From safely behind the screen, I strain to see and hear what’s happening.

The conversation starts calmly enough. Linc’s gaze is controlled, even. His hands are loose at his sides. The men stand with their arms crossed. I can’t hear a single word because a robin engages in a loud territorial dispute, chirping and calling from the tree outside the window to a squirrel that helps itself to the contents of the birdfeeder.

From the lake-facing side of the house, with its sprawling lawn topped with the Adirondack chairs Linc and I sat in as we watched the sun set over the private beach and dock, you’d never know there is a face-off happening in the driveway.

My body feels coiled with nervous energy. Every muscle tenses as I watch the exchange unfold in frustrating silence. Linc gestures toward the SUV, then pulls out his phone. One of the men shakes his head. More words.

Linc’s posture changes, turns menacing. He opens and closes his fist, charged with powerful energy.

The other two men seem to realize who the alpha is. They talk some more.

Every nerve in my body teeters on what feels like the edge of the earth.

One of the men nods as if agreeing to something and then the other follows.

The whole interaction lasts maybe ten minutes, but it feels like hours. Finally, the men get back in their SUV and drive away, leaving only the sound of gravel crunching under their tires and the bird celebrating their retreat or its victory against the enemy squirrel, I’m not sure.

Linc stands in the driveway for a long moment, watching them disappear down the winding road. When he turns back toward the cabin, his face is grim.

He glances up toward the window, likely seeing me. I lift my hand in an awkward wave because it’s too late for me to take cover. I don’t know why, but I’m hesitant for him to see that I was watching.

When he comes inside, he says, “Be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”

“Linc, what⁠—?”

“Twenty minutes, Jules, please.” He softens as if he remembers he’s talking to me.

Swallowing thickly, I turn toward the stairs as he swiftly moves through the cabin, closing windows and turning off lights. Just like that, our happy little end-of-summer bubble bursts completely.

I help clean up, my hands shaking slightly. The newly found Lincoln love letters are nearly forgotten—a heavy reminder from something as light as paper that our peaceful, intimate week was always temporary.

The drive back to Chicago passes in tense silence. Linc grips the steering wheel like he’ll strangle it if necessary, his jaw set in a hard line. Every attempt I make at conversation gets a one-word response or a grunt.

By the time we reach his place, I’m ready to scream from the anxiety building in my chest. The familiar luxury of his condo feels cold now and I no longer feel welcome. But where can I go?

As soon as the door closes, he sets down our bags and marches over to me and wraps me in a warm hug. “You’re safe here. I promise you that.”

I soften into his embrace and then take the first deep breath since before we left the cabin. I peer up at Linc. “Safe from what? Who were those men? What did you tell them?”

But he’s already moving toward his bedroom. “I need to make some calls. We’ll talk later.”

Later. Unfortunately, I’m all too aware that later is a promise that is often broken.

That night, I lie in the guest bed staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Every small sound in the building makes me jump. The hum of the air conditioning. The distant sound of traffic. The elevator dinging down the hall.

Around two in the morning, I give up on sleep and pad to the kitchen for water. The blue glow of a computer screen comes from the living room.

Linc sits on the couch in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. He’s wearing his glasses and his laptop balances on his knees. In the dim light, he looks older somehow, the playful man from the lake replaced by someone harder.

“Can’t sleep either?” I ask softly.

He looks up, and for a moment, his expression softens. “Just taking care of some things.”

I settle on the opposite end of the couch, tucking my legs under me. “Can you tell me what happened between you and those men?”

Linc sets his laptop on the table and leans back against the cushions. “I can confirm that they were working for Drecken.”

“And …?”