by Noelle Adams
“You... you... you... dick!” She wished she could come up with a more crushing insult, but that was the only word that came to her. She couldn’t remember ever being so angry in her life. So torn open and exposed. The fury and humiliation crashed into her, blurring her eyes, spinning her aching head. “You have... no idea who I am or what I want. How dare you stand there and act like you know me.”
“Of course I know you. I’ve known you for most of our lives. And can I remind you of your prom? When you went with Carter as a friend while secretly hoping for it to turn into more. Then you spent most of the evening crying in the bathroom because he danced the whole time with someone else.”
“How... how did you...?” She was swaying on her feet now. Her head hurt so much it was making her stomach churn. There was a real possibility she was going to pass out.
“How did I know it? Everyone knew it. You really think you were hiding your crush from the world?” His voice snapped like a whip. If she were thinking clearer, she might wonder why he seemed so angry about a topic that didn’t directly affect him, but it was all she could do to stay on her feet. “Carter isn’t the one who needs to open his eyes. You do. And if you marry him for such a ridiculous reason, you’re going to live to regret it. You’re better than this, Summer.”
“Better?” She choked on the word. “What the fuck do you know about being better? You who’ve done nothing with your life but throw it away to spite your father.”
“At least I haven’t wasted it on daydreams about a man who is never going to want me.”
Summer slapped him.
She actually slapped him.
She wasn’t a violent person. She wasn’t an angry person. Everyone always called her nice. Sweet. A natural peacemaker. The last time she’d hit someone had been in kindergarten when a classmate had stolen her chocolate cupcake.
She was so stunned by the slap that she froze, her hand poised in midair. It was trembling. Her whole body was trembling. Her palm stung from the impact with his cheek.
Lincoln was evidently caught by surprise too. He stared at her, one of his cheeks slightly reddened from the slap. His lips were parted just slightly.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” she finally managed to rasp. There were tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let them fall. “You don’t get to talk to me at all.”
She had to escape before she completely fell apart, so she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room.
She made it to the bathroom before she threw up.
WHEN SHE’D EMPTIED her stomach, she cried on the floor of the bathroom for a few minutes. Then she stayed there in a heap, too physically and emotionally exhausted to even move.
The worst thing about the whole situation was that Lincoln might have been right about her.
She had been daydreaming about Carter since she was a girl. She’d been his friend. Completely and truly his friend. But on any given moment in the past fifteen years, she would have leaped into his arms had he given her even the slightest indication he was interested in a romantic relationship.
She hadn’t wasted her life on the crush, no matter what Lincoln had said. She dated regularly, and she’d had serious relationships with three different men. None of them had lasted more than a year, but that wasn’t because of Carter. It was because they just hadn’t felt right. It had felt like she’d been playing a role with them rather than being herself. She’d done well in college and then earned a master’s in nonprofit administration. For the past six years, she’d had a job fund-raising for Hope House, a local nonprofit that ran a food bank, a youth center, and a literacy program for people in need.
She loved her job, and she believed in the work she was doing.
After being a lonely child, she now had a circle of true friends.
She hadn’t thrown her life away on futile daydreams, but the hope of something developing with Carter had lingered like a whisper at the back of her mind.
Maybe it was something she needed to deal with.
Maybe it was time to put it aside for good.
But Lincoln was the last person in the world who had a right to tell her that.
She wasn’t sure how long she would have stayed sprawled out on the floor of the bathroom, but eventually there was a knock on the door.
“Summer?” It was Carter’s voice. He sounded concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Her throat ached from vomiting. She tried to straighten up.
“Lincoln said you might be sick. Can I come in?”
It took effort, but she managed to regain her feet. She unlocked the door and slowly opened it.
Carter’s eyes were worried, and his mouth twisted as he took in her appearance. “Shit, Summer. You are sick.”
“I’m not sick. Not really. I just have a headache.” She glanced in the mirror and saw what he saw. Her skin was damp and pale. Half her hair had slipped out of the bun. There were dark shadows under her eyes.
She looked terrible.
“Did you throw up? Lincoln said you were sick.”
She swallowed hard over the pain in her throat. She felt trembly and weak, and she didn’t like feeling that way. “How did he...?” She’d been in the bathroom with the door closed before she threw up. She had absolutely no idea how Lincoln could have known about it. Had he followed her and heard through the door?
“I don’t know. But he was worried about you and came to get me. I’m not sure what got into him since he normally doesn’t give a crap about other people, but I’m glad he did.” Carter came into the bathroom, took a washcloth, and got it wet in the sink. Then he gently wiped her clammy skin with it. “You should go on home.”
Even the day before, she’d have been touched and breathless at the tender way he was wiping her face, but for some reason it made her feel weird now. She moved away from his touch and smiled at him. “I’m not going home, Carter. I don’t feel great, but I’m not sick. It’s really just a headache that got out of control. I’m not going to miss your dad’s funeral. I’m not.”
Carter scanned her face and evidently satisfied himself with the state of her health. “Okay. Thank you. Can I get you anything?”
“Well, I threw up my Advil so I could use some more. And maybe a Coke.”
“Let’s go get that for you then.”
She felt a little better as they left the bathroom. Her head still pounded, but she wasn’t so weak and dizzy. When they turned a corner of the hall, she was suddenly face-to-face with Lincoln.
He was standing by himself in the hallway, leaning against the wall in a casual, unconcerned pose. But his expression was sober. Oddly quiet. He was holding a glass bottle of Coke in his hand.
Her eyes met his, and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t understand the expression there, but it made her chest ache, her breath hitch.
Without saying a word, he handed her the bottle of Coke. It was cold and slightly damp from condensation. The cap was already off.
She accepted it, staring down at it in astonishment. When she looked back up at Lincoln’s face, he was watching her with that same focused intensity.
He wasn’t the sort of man who ever apologized. Maybe this was as close as he got.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip of the Coke. It was good. Really good. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten it for her.
He’d just been meaner to her than anyone else ever had.
Carter looked between her and his brother. Then said, “Come on. Let’s go find you some Advil.”
They left Lincoln standing by himself in the hall. Summer glanced over her shoulder once to see that he was watching her as she left.
FIVE HOURS LATER, SUMMER was back in the Wilson mansion. The funeral and graveside service were over, but the house was filled with friends and acquaintances who’d stopped by to pay their respects.
Summer still had the headache, but it had lessened to a dull throbbing. The day was almost over. Pretty soon she could go h
ome and go to bed.
She was still at Carter’s side where she’d remained most of the day. He seemed to have relaxed a bit, and he wasn’t quite so pale. He was obviously exhausted, but she thought maybe he was doing better.
At the moment, they were talking to Lance Carlyle, who’d grown up with them in Green Valley. Summer had always liked Lance, with his thick auburn curls and his clever, insouciant manner. His expression was more sober than normal today as he came up to shake Carter’s hand and express his sympathy.
“It’s got to be hard, it happening so fast,” Lance said.
Carter nodded. “It is. But we had a couple of months to prepare, and it’s probably best he didn’t linger for a long time in pain.”
“That’s true. Do you know what’s going to happen to the business?”
“He always told me he was leaving it to me. I’m the only one who wants it.”
“Yeah.” Lance glanced over Summer’s shoulder, and she looked back to see Lincoln standing by himself, leaning against a wall, and sipping a glass of whiskey. “I guess so.”
Carter looked over too and saw what Summer had seen. “Lincoln has made it clear for fifteen years that he wants nothing to do with the company. I believe him. He’s not expecting anything from Dad. He probably wouldn’t take Dad’s money even if he was offered any of it. Which he won’t be.”
When Summer glanced over again, Lincoln turned his head and caught her eye. Their gazes met across the room for just a little too long, and she was breathless when she made herself turn away.
The man was way too intense. It was unnerving. She didn’t like it at all.
She started to say something to Lance—just a casual comment to keep the conversation moving—when his wife, Savannah, joined them.
Savannah had been in Summer’s grade all through school, but they’d never really been friends. Savannah hadn’t been in Summer’s social circle, and she’d always had a slight chip on her shoulder, making it hard for people to get close to her. Plus Summer had known that Carter was kind of into Savannah in high school, and Summer had been jealous.
Jealous. She didn’t like that about herself, but it was true.
She felt stupid now because Savannah had become a friend over the past couple of years, ever since she’d married Lance and they started hanging out in the same circles. Summer really liked the other woman, and she wished she could be as quick and articulate as Savannah was.
Maybe she’d have an easier time holding her own with Lincoln if she had a tongue as sharp as Savannah’s.
Savannah hugged Carter, and then she hugged Summer. She asked how they were doing, and the conversation turned again to Carter’s emotional state and what was likely to happen to Wilson Hotels.
After a few minutes, Summer looked over her shoulder again. It was supposed to be a quick look—just to see what Lincoln was doing now and whether he still wasn’t talking to anyone—but their eyes met again.
He must have some sort of creepy sixth sense that alerted him when anyone happened to look in his direction.
When she felt a twisting tension in her chest, Summer checked to confirm that Carter was fine, chatting with Lance and Savannah, and then she walked over to where Lincoln was standing.
He arched his eyebrows as she approached and straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall but said nothing.
When she reached him, she opened her mouth. No words came out.
His questioning look turned into a slight frown. “You okay?” His tone was mild. Not particularly concerned.
She nodded. Swallowed hard. Stared at the floor for a few seconds before she glanced up and said, “I’m sorry.”
He blinked.
“For slapping you,” she added since he looked so surprised.
His expression relaxed slightly. “Ah. Well. I deserved it.”
“It doesn’t matter if you deserved it or not. I shouldn’t have done it. So I’m sorry.”
His agile mouth turned up at one corner. “Apology accepted.”
His expression gave her the weirdest feeling. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was akin to excitement. It was a highly disturbing response to nothing more than a half smile, so she took a step back. “Anyway. I wanted to say that. This doesn’t mean I don’t still despise you.”
He twitched his eyebrows in an obnoxiously smug way. “I would have been deeply disappointed in you if you’d stopped.”
She rolled her eyes and turned away from him to return to Carter. It felt like he was watching her as she left him, but she resisted the impulse to turn back and check.
THREE DAYS LATER, SUMMER was sitting in a waiting area of an attorney’s office, fiddling with her phone and hoping everything was going well for Carter.
He, Lincoln, and his mother were in with the attorney for the reading of Arthur Wilson’s will. There shouldn’t be any surprises. They’d all known for years that Mrs. Wilson would get the estate, Carter would get the company, and Lincoln would get nothing.
They’d been in there for more than an hour now, however, and Summer was getting restless. Anxious. She wanted Carter to come out so she’d know for sure that their plans could go forward.
She wasn’t sure why, but the conversation with Lincoln before the funeral a few days ago had killed the last lingering hope she’d been holding on to for a romantic future with Carter. The old feelings were completely gone now. Vanished into nothing. Leaving no trace except a faint embarrassment that she’d been so stupid for so long. She had no idea how it had happened, but she felt free in a way she couldn’t remember feeling.
It was ironic that she had Lincoln to thank for that. Not that it excused his wretched behavior.
She was still planning to help Carter out by marrying him for a few months until his planned acquisition had gone through. There was no reason not to—now that she wasn’t harboring any sort of silly fantasies about what it might lead to. He was still her best friend, and he needed her. He was usually a stable, levelheaded person, but he’d felt almost desperate to her lately, like losing his father before he’d been able to prove himself to him had pushed him over the edge.
If she could help him work through that desperation, then she was going to do it.
The practical marriage wouldn’t affect anything negatively in her life. She wasn’t dating anyone at the moment. She wasn’t even particularly interested in dating right now. She wanted to go through with the plan and see it to the end, and then she could start fresh.
Maybe find something new to be excited about.
But none of that could happen until Carter came out of the office and told her that their plans were a go.
She waited ten more minutes before the office door opened. She jumped to her feet as Carter appeared in the doorway.
She knew immediately that something was wrong. His face was pale. His forehead was furrowed. And his eyes were stunned and pained.
“What happened?” she asked, hurrying over to meet him halfway.
He started to say something and shook his head instead.
“Carter?” Her voice was sharp from concern. “What happened?”
“The bastard didn’t leave Carter the company.” The voice came from behind them. It was low and bitter and familiar.
Summer turned to see Lincoln walking up to them with a snarl on his handsome face. “What? What are you talking about? He was supposed to leave it to Carter.”
“I know that,” Lincoln muttered. “But he was a bastard to the very end. He left it to me.”
“What?” Summer’s voice cracked with her astonishment. Her eyes shot between Carter’s pained face and Lincoln’s angry one. “Why would he...?”
“Because he wanted to punish me and keep controlling Carter.” Lincoln was almost shaking with repressed rage. There could be no mistake at all about his response to this news. He wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t smug or gloating or victorious. This was the last thing in the world he’d wanted, and he was furious about it. “There�
��s no other explanation for his doing this to us. He hated me, and this was his final twist of the knife.”
“But it’s Carter who’s being punished. Carter never did anything but stay loyal and support him. How could he do this to Carter?”
“He was probably worried that Carter was making plans for the company that he didn’t agree with, so this was his last effort at exerting control. That’s all the asshole ever cared about.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carter rasped. “It’s done. We’re stuck with it. We need to just figure out where to go from here.”
“That’s easy,” Lincoln said. “If the company is mine, then I’ll give it to you. It’s yours now. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
Summer relaxed at those words. “Oh. Good. That’s good then. If Lincoln will give it to you, then we’re okay. We can still go through with the marriage and the acquisition and—”
“No, we can’t,” Carter interrupted. “It will take time for the will to go through and then more time to implement the transfer from Lincoln to me. It’s not going to be finalized in time for the acquisition. There’s a timeline on the deal—basically just a month—and there’s no way we’ll make it. We’ll have lost the chance. We might as well just declare bankruptcy and be done with it.”
“Oh no.” Summer put a hand on her stomach, which was twisting with anxiety. “What are we going to do then?” She wasn’t sure why she looked over to Lincoln for an answer, but she did.
He was dressed just as inappropriately as ever in dark-washed jeans and a gray V-neck. He was big and sexy and dangerous and simmering with anger. “What about this? You do your stupid marriage thing and get the money for the investment. I’ll sign off on the acquisition, and then we’ll transfer ownership of the company.”
Carter’s face shifted to hope for the first time since he’d left the office, which made Summer want to cry.
