by Mariah Dietz
“That’s my girl,” Lois says, her eyes too heavy with sympathy for me to believe she doesn’t know about my dad. Her black coat falls nearly to her knees, a black beanie covering most of her hair. Wide silver rings cover most of her fingers that dig into my arms with a security that feels maternal, making my eyes grow wet. “You still feeling okay?” she asks, handing me a lifejacket that I cling to a moment before being able to move to put it on. I force another smile as my breath leaves me like a short stack of smoke.
Lois nods like she understands the words I’m not able to vocalize. “You know, you’re always welcome to stay with me if you ever need anything.”
The invitation might be a welcomed reprieve if it didn’t threaten to break all the carefully placed lies I’ve constructed to remind myself things are going to improve. I don’t want anything to feel too permanent because I’m not ready for there to be a next because that implies there’s an after, which forces me to consider the before.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I appreciate it.”
She nods again, reading my answer and biting her lip. She’s always been able to read people so well. She once told me it was because she’s an empath, able to pick up on other’s emotions and feelings—sometimes, even when the people experiencing them aren’t able to recognize them. There have been too many instances where I’ve witnessed her do this first hand not to believe her. I also think that Poppy has the same ability, which is likely why helping people has always been a draw to her.
We go through the checklist, the order offering a sense of comfort as we get everything prepped.
The salty air cleans my lungs and mind, making everything seem father away and smaller as the turquoise water laps at the boat, and though I once found the sound to be soothing like a familiar lullaby, I have to remind myself more than once to breathe, keeping far from the edge.
“Raegan, look!” Lois calls once the engine has been cut and the others begin moving around, gathering tools to run tests and recordings.
I look out where she’s pointing in time to see Blue crest the surface. Tears blur my vision and make my entire body feel too warm. I knew he was okay, but I didn’t realize until now how badly I needed to see him.
I stay several feet back, too far for him to likely see me, but he and the other three members of his pod restore another piece inside of me that I know I’d never be able to fix alone.
“He sees you,” Lois says confidentially, perched at the opposing corner of the boat. “Look at him showing off. He’s missed you.”
I don’t know if there’s any truth to what she says, but something in my heart prays it is.
When we arrive back at the docks, we’re all soggy and cold, and Kenny is making references to “soggy bottoms” with a thick British accent because each staffer seems to spend their evenings watching The Great British Bakeoff. The joke is often used, yet we still laugh, cleaning the boat and completing the checklist of items we complete with each outing—the rhythm and routine feeling more familiar.
“You want to grab a bite to eat?” Lois asks as we step onto the slick dock.
“I would, but I have a shift at the coffee shop soon.” Soon being relative since I technically have three hours, but with the way Lois is so fluent at reading my thoughts and feelings, sitting across from her without an ocean full of distractions would leave me without a single defense. “Raincheck?”
She nods. “Definitely. My offer stands. Always.” She hugs me, tightening her grip rather than loosening it like so many do.
We take short, careful steps to keep from sliding until we hit the concrete where we avoid the puddles forming throughout the parking lot.
“Is that a friend?” Lois asks, her gaze directed in the distance though mine’s still on where to step. I glance up to see a black truck parked beside my Honda. The driver’s side door opens, and Lincoln unfolds from the seat, stepping into the fine mist that seems to be hanging in the air rather than actually falling. He’s wearing a gray sweatshirt covered in a lightweight black jacket and a pair of jeans that look like they were made for him cover his long legs.
“My brother’s best friend,” I explain.
“Is he doing okay?”
I shrug. “This has been hard on him.”
She presses her lips into a thin line, her eyes reflecting the painful words she hears with my silence. “I’ll see you next weekend?”
I nod, and she reaches to hug me again.
I wish she’d continue walking me to my car, buying me an easy excuse to avoid Lincoln as well. I tuck my hands back into my pockets, making a mental note to stop and pick up some gloves tonight after my shift. Lincoln kicks forward, his gaze sweeping across me. “Are you okay?”
I stare at him, considering how stupid his question is.
“Your phone’s off,” he says.
Lois rolls her window down as she drives by, waving.
I wave back, calling a good-bye. “My battery died.” My voice is so neutral; I’m impressed and shocked at the same time.
“You didn’t come back to the house last night.”
I shake my head. “I stayed with a friend.”
“I’m sorry about last night. Pax and Ian got wasted and could barely walk. I helped Arlo get them into his SUV, and he was worried they’d throw up, so I rode home with them. But, when I came back, you were gone.”
I glance around the parking lot, hoping his presence doesn’t create more hushed rumors about me. I’ve worked at the aquarium for years, successfully keeping my personal life and drama far from it. “I didn’t know where you went, and you weren’t answering your phone,” I admit.
He nods. “I lost it. I spent the morning at the store, getting a new one.”
Hans, the leader of our outreach time, drives by, honking and waving as he passes.
“I’m not trying to create doubt or make you chase after me. I was planning for us to talk, I just didn’t know what was going on last night and figured it was best if we slept it off. Was everything okay with Pax and Ian?”
He shakes his head. “It was nothing. They slept it off, and Poppy probably hates me because I borrowed Paxton’s phone last night to call you, and when you didn’t answer, I called her to make sure you were okay. I should have let you know what was going on. I told you not to be alone, and then I left you inside.”
“Technically, I was surrounded by a ton of people.”
He grins, running a hand over his eyes that reveal his exhaustion.
“Are you trying to apologize?” I ask, kicking a loose rock with the toe of my boot. “Because you kind of suck at it.”
His arms drop to his sides, humor sparking in his dark eyes. “I left you.”
“I noticed.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’ve never been good at this stuff.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him. “You had every right to leave.”
His lips look fuller as he clenches his teeth, making his jaw become so defined it looks nearly sharp, giving Charlie Hunnam a run for most gorgeous jawline. “Why didn’t you go back to the house?”
“I didn’t know if you’d be there,” my reply tumbles out too quickly, sounding more like an argument.
“Was that a lie? Because you kind of suck at it,” he uses my own words against me.
“It’s weird,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Because you guys have your own routines, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“You won’t.”
My shoulders rise, my muscles still tightly wound from the boat ride as I work to find the right words so it doesn’t sound half as lame as it does in my mind.
Lincoln steps forward, his hand gripping me above my elbow. “Stop censoring yourself.”
I shrug him off, taking a step back from the energy that floats through me when he’s too near. “I have to.”
“That’s bullshit. You say you can’t be yourself around me, but that’s only because you refuse to.”
“Becau
se you make me feel … messy.” I shake my head once, swallowing the word vomit that I feel like I’m choking on. “I care what you think. I care more about what you think than I think I’ve ever cared about what anyone has thought about me. Poppy calls me fearless and claims that I have all this confidence, but when I’m around you, I lose it. I lose it all.”
The mask I’ve become so accustomed to seeing him wearing slips, and his eyes flare. “Was that so hard?”
I throw my head back, growling at the sky and him and at the multitude of emotions that are turning so fast, I’m sure I’m about to drown in them.
Lincoln steps closer, humor and warmth pooling in his eyes. “I like that you care.”
I shake my head. “Then stop telling me to stop censoring myself.”
He laughs softly, then licks his bottom lip, his gaze catching on my mouth, making me wish he’d step closer and kiss me. “I wanted to make you feel dirty, but I can live with messy.”
“I already regret telling you that.”
Lincoln rubs his lips together, then smiles. “I know.” He takes the slowest step on earth, closing the space between us, and I feel like it’s the day we first met when I was a mess as I push wet strands of my hair back with my red, freezing fingers. “Does this mean you’re done with Derek?”
“Derek, who?”
Confidence shines in his eyes as he smells the victory, licking his lips again.
“No, I’m serious. Which Derek? I was dating like five of them.”
I’m trying to study the flash that appears in his eyes, but before I can label it, his lips crash upon mine, equal parts punishing and victorious as he swipes his tongue across my lips, coaxing them to allow him access. I breathe him in, the fine drops of rain dancing across my cheeks and forehead, tickling my nose. His tongue expertly slides against mine, an invitation into the current I’ve experienced and know will turn my world upside down. And I jump with both feet.
He pulls back before I’m done, his gaze traveling past my shoulder. “You went out on the water?”
I nod, looking back across the ocean that still seems so unfamiliar.
“How was it?”
I swallow. “Harder than I expected. I thought I’d feel more comfortable once we got out there, but it all felt very raw still. But, I saw Blue.”
His eyes turn soft, and his hands tighten at my waist. “But you did it. You took a big leap. You should be proud of yourself. I’m hella proud of you.”
“I didn’t help them with anything. I was literally a boat ornament.”
He shakes his head. “You went out there. That’s huge. Don’t discount this accomplishment. We all have to start somewhere. Trust me. After I was cleared to play this summer, I didn’t start off with hardly anything. It takes time to build back up.”
I pull in a deep breath, wanting to believe his words so badly I nearly ask him to repeat them so I can create a new playlist of words in my mind to drown out the doubt. But, then he looks down as he links our fingers and pulls me in the direction of his truck.
“I’m soaked,” I tell him, watching the water from my coat run across the leather seat.
He glances at me from the driver’s seat where he starts the engine. “I was hoping you would be.” He grins mischievously, closing the doors, blue lights illuminating the space as he sits beside me.
“Is everything sexual with you?”
“When you’re involved.” He leans closer, reaching for my jacket. “We have three hours until you work, and probably one until you get hypothermia.”
“How do you know when I work?”
“I stopped at the coffee shop first.”
“Stalker.”
He grins, reaching for my coat, tugging the zipper down to reveal my red Brighton U sweatshirt. He peels it off, tossing my jacket to the front passenger floorboard with a thwack of wet fabric. “Have you had breakfast?”
My head spins, trying to account for the darkness in his eyes and the calmness in his tone. Then the blue lights time out and go dark, the hum of the engine making the space turn warm.
Lincoln grins. “That was my easy question, Kerosene.” He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, the touch equal parts casual and intimate.
“If I stay at the house, every line will be blurred.”
“That happened when we crossed the Rubicon.”
“What about the other girls? Football? Pax? This is easy now, but me being there complicates everything.”
“Maybe, but right now, I lose my fucking mind wondering where you are. And, football is football—if anyone understands what that entails, it’s you. And if you’d pay attention,” his gives me a pointed look, “you’d realize there haven’t been any other girls.”
“One did your laundry the other day.”
He winces. “I know this won’t make it sound better, but I didn’t ask her to. Sometimes girls just come and do that kind of shit.”
I wipe a hand down my face. He catches it as my fingers splay across my eyes. Pulling my fingers free in his rough, warm hand, he dips his mouth, kissing the still chilled skin over my knuckles.
“I need to watch you come again.”
His words sling my heart so far outside of my body, I’m left staring at him, my breath caught in my throat.
That darkness in his eyes spreads to his lips, curving into a smile before reaching for me, tangling his fingers into my hair before he steals my breath.
34
Lincoln
My ego might have undermined her independence as her words confirmed what I’d hoped but had been too afraid to believe. I spent an hour confirming I still have self-control as I locked Rae and me up in the back of my truck. My ego inflated and my dick hard and throbbing as I finger fucked her until I watched her come on my fingers. I hit the pause button again, knowing her second time shouldn’t be in the back of a vehicle. Thoughts and questions were being stitched together as she followed me out into the cold mist to her car, but after hearing the reason she runs her thoughts through extra filters, I struggled to force the words out.
“Breakfast,” I say. “Let’s get something to eat.”
Her eyebrows rise with question. “Is something… Is there a reason you only focus on me?” Concern is etched across her forehead. I press a kiss to the creased skin, and then another to the corner of her lips, then the other corner.
“I’m still waiting for you to change your mind,” I tell her.
She shakes her head in short, confused twists. “What?”
“You waited for nineteen years before you had sex. Obviously, there was a reason.”
Rae’s cheeks flare pink. “It’s called having a family of stop signs. My mom was our principal. My aunt’s a police chief. Pax was a legacy. The only guys who wanted to have sex with me were looking to place a notch in their belts. It was never about me.”
This theory seems as plausible as Kennedy being hit by a stray bullet. Raegan’s sexy as hell and smart as a whip. She’s funny, she’s kind, and those figures in her life would only make the journey greater. “I don’t believe you.”
She scoffs. “Well, it’s true.”
I shake my head. “It can’t be. I’ve been trying to ignore you for almost two years.”
“I’ve been trying to ignore you for longer.”
That new spark hits my chest. “So, you’ve been wanting me for three years?”
She rolls her eyes, the movement exaggerated and pronounced before placing a hand on my chest and trying to shove me. It causes her to stumble, but I grab her before too much space can build between us. “I’m not changing my mind,” she says, confidence rounding her eyes as I follow the curve of her body with my hand, stopping on her ass.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“You sound like such a girl. Next, I’m going to start thinking you have feelings for me.” Her smile is a fragile curve, and for a second, I’m suspended in time, memorizing every detail I can absorb like it’s an order from a higher power, t
elling me I will want to remember this moment years from now.
“There’s a breakfast place over on Second. I checked out their menu while I was waiting for you, and they have, like, forty drinks available at breakfast.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I grin. “Not anytime soon, no.”
She only argues twice when I suggest we drive my truck, but I kiss her and remind her it’s only a couple of miles away, and she complies, following me to the passenger side, where I prop open the door, the scent of her orgasm mixing with the leather scent of my truck. It’s euphoric.
“Is this weird?” she asks, brushing either side of the laminated menu with her thumbs.
“What?”
“This. Us, being here so casually. I feel like we just skipped twelve steps.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think we hit all the stages, but they were all in a weird order.” She slouches in her seat, folding her lips against her bottom teeth and diverting her attention to her menu as our waitress stops at the table. I take the few seconds to study her, recognizing the pull of her lips in a southern turn as a similar expression to the one Paxton makes when he’s frustrated, hers is just so much milder it’s easy to miss.
“What can I get you kids this morning?” the waitress asks, flipping to an empty page in her small pad of paper.
“Could we actually get a few minutes?” I ask.
“Do you want me to start with drinks?” she asks.
“Sure. Could we get two coffees, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and an orange juice? No straws.”
She jots our drink order with a smile. “Sure thing.”
I focus my attention back on Raegan, waiting until she looks up at me. “What are you thinking over there, Kerosene?”
Blonde hairs tangle in her eyelashes before she swipes them away. “I just…” she pulls in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I had an entire list of rules why I should avoid you…”
“Rules?”
She nods. “Rules. I just never thought I’d need to actually apply them because you have a line of girls who follow you around, doing your laundry and painting your jersey number on their faces…”
