Fool Me Twice

by Aarons, Carrie

  My blood pulses in my ears, and it feels like my heart is about to go into cardiac arrest.

  Thank God we checked into the hotel before going to the bridge, because it means we can bypass the lobby and fumble through the side entrance as we kiss. Being that it’s the middle of the day, we’re lucky no one comes into the hall as Lincoln stumbles over unlocking the door, with my hands nearly down his pants.

  It all moves so fast from there.

  His hands on my breasts, pulling at my clothes.

  My moans filling his mouth as our tongues twine.

  Frantic, eating up every part of each other’s skin we can taste.

  No words are needed right now; we’re acting on instinct, pure and primal. Neither of us is prey, and neither of us is the hunter. We’re both equal parts in this dance for pleasure. For intimacy.

  To feel alive.

  We don’t even make it to the bed, Lincoln simply hoists me up as soon as we’re naked and slides into me. My back connects with the wall, all of his strength holding me there as he joins us.

  In his eyes, one green and one blue, I see nothing but flames. Carnal desire, which must mirror my expression. My fingers dig into his shoulder blades, and I surrender myself to the glorious assault he’s laying to my body. All I can do is hang on, allow Lincoln to build my climax higher and higher as he thrusts.

  We come together in an ovation of haggard breath and whispered curses.

  And I’ve never felt more alive.

  30

  Lincoln

  Later, when we’re lying naked and entwined in the hotel room bed, something crosses my mind.

  “This scar? The one I told you was from football? I lied.” My voice is quiet in the dark of the room.

  Henley’s fingers trail down my scar, tickling my stomach as she goes. She’s quiet, not interrupting me but giving me the space to tell her the truth.

  “The truth is … this scar is from when doctors took a bunch of tumors out of my body when I was a kid.” I press a kiss to the crown of her head, glad she isn’t looking at me in the eye.

  The sex we just had was so intense, as if it altered the face of the earth. Or maybe it just altered the face of my earth. That’s what Henley seems to do, and I’m not sure how I grew up just a town over from her and never felt her presence. If this was the girl I was meant to be with, it seemed like I’d been biding my time for an awfully long time.

  And even though she’s still tight-lipped about a lot of stuff in her past, I wanted to share all of my secrets with her. Not that this was a secret, per se, but I rarely shared this part of my life with anyone else. It felt more intimate, more personal than sharing the stuff about my cousins.

  I liked to assume, and have other people assume, that I have no weaknesses. There was nothing that could take me down. But this scar, and the explanation behind it, proved that there were things that could completely pull me out of the game, not to mention life.

  “Tumors?” I feel Henley’s body go rigid. Her hand stops stroking the scar.

  I nod, though she can’t see the motion. “When I was eight, I was diagnosed with leukemia. I came home from school one day with a rash and a fever of about a hundred and four. My parents rushed me to the hospital. Thank God they did, because if they’d treated it like a cold, who knows what would have happened.”

  There were points back then, glimpses of what I can remember, where the pain was so bad that I thought I was going to die. As a kid, you don’t fully grasp that. Death doesn’t carry the connotation it does now that I’m an adult. I knew it was scary; I knew that all the procedures were painful, but I didn’t fully understand just how fragile my life was in that year.

  “You had cancer?” Her voice is a whisper, and I’m pretty sure I hear tears swirling in her tone.

  “Yes. I spent almost a year in and out of hospitals. They started with the surgery, removing as many of the tumors as they could. That’s what left this scar.” I trail my hand down it, and Henley’s fingers follow.

  I continue, wanting the whole truth between us. “Then it was onto chemo treatments, radiation, blood infusions, special diets. I missed almost an entire year of school, and could barely do anything after treatment. It took me a while after I was deemed in remission to even summon the energy to be a kid.”

  Now, Henley looks up at me, and there is so much sadness in her face. “I can’t even begin to imagine …”

  Gulping, I nod. “I know. It was a really tough thing, and I don’t think I understood the gravity of it until much later. It’s why I don’t talk about it a lot. It’s like a jinx, if I talk about it, maybe it will come back. I never want to have to fight that battle again.”

  “Not a lot of people know about this.” Henley says it like a statement, though I know it’s a question.

  “Showing weakness is not one of my strong suits. I’m supposed to be this legend, this unbreakable captain of my sport. What would they say if they knew I was the kid in elementary school with cancer? The dying child who had all the fundraisers thrown for him? I don’t want them to look at me like that.”

  “But you told me.” Again, not a statement.

  My hand brushes down her cheek. “Because I want you to know everything about me. I want to give you all of me. And I want you to feel comfortable, when you’re ready, to do the same. I see the things you hold back haunting your eyes. I want to be your everything, just like you are to me now.”

  Though our day started off in a flurry of action-packed adrenaline, it was ending with tenderness.

  In this quiet hotel room, with the dim lamp illuminating just one corner of the place, I was all but telling Henley that I was in love with her.

  And hoping that soon, she’d be able to tell me she felt the same way.

  31

  Lincoln

  It just so happens that the hearing I’m supposed to testify at regarding Tyla and Brant’s custody falls over Thanksgiving break.

  Conveniently, I’m already home. And even more crucial, it means that I’ll have Henley close by since she lives a town over. Of course, I have my parents and my brother, who came home to testify as well, but something about hugging Henley after coming off that stand makes my uneasy soul rest somewhat easier.

  “You’ll be just outside the doors?” I ask, nodding like my answer will come out of her lips.

  Henley holds my hands in both of hers. “I’ll be right here. You don’t have to be nervous, you’re Lincoln freaking Kolb. You’ve got this.”

  I’m pissed she isn’t allowed to come in, but for the sake of the children, this is a closed hearing. I guess that’s good, in part, because my Aunt Cheryl can’t parade her band of floozy friends in to intimidate us, like that would work, or throw off Tyla and Brant, which is so fucking selfish within itself but something I’d never put past her.

  I wrap an arm around her shoulder, pull her into me so I can kiss her. “You really know how to pump a guy up.”

  “Eh, it’s easy when his ego is already so inflated.” She winks at me.

  Leave it to my girl to use jokes at a time like this. She knows it’s exactly what I need, and it’s why I’m so fucking glad she’s here.

  I’m about to try to go slay a dragon. My aunt Cheryl has been a toxic drug in the lives of her children, one we’ve been trying to rid them of for years. With mine and Chase’s testimony, we’ll move the custody case just a little further along in our favor.

  Someone pops their head out of the room, calling the Kolb family inside.

  My brows knit together as I study Henley. “This is it.”

  “You’re going to do good by those kids. They love you like hell. Go love them back.”

  “You know I do.” I squeeze her hand before I turn, walking into the courtroom with the rest of my family.

  Luckily, Tyla and Brant get to wait in a different holding room with a supervised agent while we’re all grilled in this courtroom. They don’t need to hear me bad mouth their mother, even if it’s true. They’re
children, they won’t understand. And they’ll appreciate what I’m doing when they’re older. When they realize just how much better off they are with my parents as their guardians.

  “I just want to remind you all that I love you, and I’m proud of you. Whatever happens after today, we all tried our hardest and it doesn’t mean we love Tyla and Brant any less.”

  Dad is basically choking on tears, and we all take a moment to compose ourselves. Shortly after we settle at our table, Cheryl walks in—looking like a mess. She’s in a fire engine red dress that’s three sizes too tight and four inches too short. Her hair looks like a rat’s nest, and even from ten feet away, I can smell the cigarettes and booze on her.

  Her boyfriend trails behind her, in jeans and a T-shirt, while the rest of my family has dressed in our nicest suits and clothing to come fight for these kids. If this doesn’t outright convince them, our testimony should.

  When the judge comes into chambers, we all stand as instructed, and then sit through her opening remarks about the case. She asks some questions of the social workers who have been working on the kids’ case since it came about two years ago, and then it’s time for my testimony.

  “Mr. Lincoln Kolb, please come to the stand,” the judge requests.

  This isn’t a trial, so no lawyers are here to cross examine me. Just the judge, who is going to fire questions at me about our home, my childhood, the state of the children’s mindsets, and why I believe that we can give them the best and most loving home. I’ve already been coached about how this will go, and I wish I could relay that to my nerves, but they practically jumping out of my skin.

  This is weightier than any game I’ve ever played in. Right now, none of that matters. This is about family, and that’s the most important thing in life.

  “Thank you for being here today, Lincoln.” The judge smiles at me, and I know she’s trying to make me feel comfortable.

  I won’t be lulled into a false sense of security though. I’m staying sharp. I have to. “Of course. I’d do anything for Tyla and Brant.”

  She nods. “So tell me a little bit about your relationship with your cousins.”

  A softball, right off the bat, and I go into detail about how incredible our family unit has become since they came into it. I tell her about the football practices I used to drive Brant to before I went to college. How Tyla and I liked to make Friday night dinner for everyone. I tell her about the vacation to Disney World we took last summer, and the bedtime routine my parents set up for the little ones that Chase and I participate in every time we’re home; bath, book, or seven, and bed. I try to tell the judge every little facet and fact about my cousins’ lives with us, so that it’s undeniable my parents should have custody.

  “And Lincoln, tell me, what have you witnessed when your cousins come home from a visit with their mother?” the judge asks.

  “They’re scattered, and I can tell that their emotions are all over the place. Brant is too quiet, Tyla looks like she might cry for about a day and a half after every visit. They don’t sleep well, their eating schedules are off, and it takes almost a week for them to become their happy, fun loving selves again. I’m not sure what happens at those visits, I can’t speak to it, but I personally never want to see those kids in that state again.”

  I look across to Aunt Cheryl, who is scowling. Her boyfriend is smiling like the devil himself, his broken and golden teeth absolutely disgusting.

  “Why do you believe your parents and their home would be a better fit?”

  “Because we all love them so much. We want to give them the best life possible, even if that means sacrificing something for ourselves. My brother and I, we’re out of the house now. This was supposed to be my parents’ time to live out their own dreams. Be empty nesters. Go on wine tours or whatever it is people do who are close to retirement.”

  The judge chuckles, as do some people in the courtroom.

  I go on. “But they’ve chosen to take on the responsibility to raise these kids. Because that’s what you do for family, for people you love. My parents, and my brother and me, we want to give Tyla and Brant the best life they can possibly have. And I believe that’s with our family.”

  “And if someone had come and tried to remove you from your parents’ home, how would you have reacted?”

  It takes me a minute to breathe down the anger this question evokes. I know what the judge is trying to get at, but I won’t be baited.

  “I know how important having a relationship with your parents is. The ones who gave life to you, who raised you, who can tell you stories about your history and make memories with you. I know, because I have that. My parents are incredible. I also know that there are people out there who aren’t fit or qualified in any sense of the word to be that to their children. If they put themselves before their children, put them in dangerous situations, do anything to put their child in a place of disadvantage or harm, they shouldn’t be able to make those memories with their children. I believe this about my aunt Cheryl. She should not have the privilege of caring for her children when she cannot make the sacrifices to do so.”

  I swear, you can hear a pin drop. I’m only focused on the judge, staring at her so I make my point known.

  After a few more questions, mostly evidentiary or research based ones, I’m allowed to step down from the stand. Chase is called up shortly after, and asked mostly the same questions. Cheryl testifies and barely makes a case for why she’d be fit to raise eggs from the grocery store, let alone children.

  And then it’s over. We’re told that the judge will deliberate, that the children will remain in my parents’ temporary custody until she’s made her decision.

  We all walk out of the courtroom together, hugging, saying a silent prayer that we did enough to bring Tyla and Brant home for good.

  Henley is sitting on a bench opposite the doors, waiting just like she said she’d be.

  Without hesitation, I walk toward her, hauling her up and into my arms. In just a few months, she has become my rock. Just holding her after that emotional turmoil makes me feel immensely better.

  So I whisper in her ear, “I can’t imagine being without you.”

  32

  Henley

  We drive back to Warchester an hour after having dinner with the Kolb family.

  Lincoln is mostly silent, and I see him literally chewing his lip as he chews over all the thoughts in his head. I left him be, choosing a good mix of music as the sun set past the windshield. He did hold my hand the entire drive though, and the connection let me know that he wasn’t upset.

  Just preoccupied.

  I understood that, because I was too. Over the last week, I’ve had so much to think over that it all rattles around in my head. Going home with Lincoln, seeing him so shaken about the custody case, the way he looked at me after we bungee jumped …

  And then the confession he let loose as we lay in that hotel room.

  I don’t how to reconcile my feelings for Lincoln with feeling guilty about Catherine. This whole thing started as a way to get back at him, and now I’m in love with the guy. How the hell that happened, how I allowed myself to fall … it was probably inevitable from the start. Not only is Lincoln one of the most charming and gorgeous male specimens I’ve ever encountered, but I hadn’t counted on the fact that he’d fit me.

  Lincoln surprised the hell out of me by being an equal match. To my wit, to my independence, to my taunting sarcasm. He is interested in me, wants to know about my photography and has supported me since the moment we met.

  And on top of everything else, he told me his most intimate secret. His weakness. I know it wasn’t easy to reveal to me that he had cancer. How the hell do I fit this into the puzzle? Catherine hated him because he dumped her when she got cancer. We loathed him for what a huge jerk he was, that someone would do that to a person about to battle for their life.

  To find out that he went through the same thing, that Lincoln knows firsthand just how horrible
and difficult it is to battle that fucking disease …

  How could he do that to her? Did he know how deeply it hurt her? Was he terrified of watching someone else go through that, so he ended it before he had to hold her hand through it?

  I wish I could ask him these questions. I wish the answers were as simple as I want them to be. But I know they aren’t. Neither is my explanation of what I’m doing.

  I want to call off the whole bucket list agenda. I want to be with Lincoln for real, no matter how much guilt churns in my gut thinking about Catherine while admitting that. I want to be there for him in every situation, especially ones like today.

  Watching him walk into that courtroom, defend his family, and fight for people he loves.

  It’s impossible to compare this caring, passionate, extraordinary man with the one Catherine and I demonized in her teenage bedroom. They can’t be the same person.

  By the time we make it up to my tower, you can feel the exhaustion rolling off of us in waves. Rhiannon is still back home, she’ll be at school tomorrow, so Lincoln is spending the night in my dorm room.

  “Let’s sleep.” I usher him in, helping to unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie.

  I’m not doing it in a sexual way, but more like a partner caring for her partner. I want to ease his worries, hold him in my arms and bring him whatever comfort I can possibly impart.

  “Thank you for being there today.” He sighs, toeing off his shoes as I shrug out of the dress I wore to his hometown.

  Lincoln pulls my hair out of its clip, and I rub my hands over his bare muscles, trying to soothe away the tension. This is what compassion feels like, this is what contentment feels like.

  “I’ll always be there when you need me. The only thing I want is to be by your side,” I admit.

  It’s been hard for me to return his romantic or emotional sentiments. I’ve held myself back, at first because I hated him and then later because I couldn’t allow myself to fall in love with him. Distance was my friend, and as long as I could keep my emotions at arm’s length, I would be fine.