by D. R. Graham
“Almost,” she joked back, but then her expression turned serious as she gently touched the side of my face. “Apparently, some guy pulled me out of the burning bus and put his own body between me and the snow so I wouldn’t get hypothermic.”
I reached up and squeezed her hand to reassure her I was all right, although I wasn’t positive I was. “What happened to that guy?”
“He got twelve stitches above his eye, he has a minor burn on his leg, his ribs are bruised, and he was hypothermic.” She stood up and leaned over to kiss my cheek. Then she hovered her lips close to my ear and whispered, “He’s my hero.”
Hal’s expression was serious as he watched us from across the room. It was hard to know if it was because he was upset about how close Lincoln had come to being killed, or if he disapproved of how close she had come to me.
I sat up and purposely broke the intimate distance between us. It was too late for professional, but I hoped to at least restore lighthearted bantering between fiends so Hal wouldn’t fire me on the spot. “Don’t get all mushy. I’m not a hero. I was just saving my own ass and stumbled across your body as I escaped out the back window. I draped your body on top of me to keep myself warm. I saved you for totally selfish reasons.”
“Really? Selfish?” Her eyebrow raised to accept my bantering challenge. “Is that why you went back and saved the bus driver, too?”
I smiled because she had me on that point. “I’m not sure why I did that. Is he okay?”
“He has a broken collarbone and a concussion. He’s fine.”
“Why did we crash? Was it the snow?”
Lincoln shrugged and looked over her shoulder at Hal. “Do they know yet?”
He shook his head in a distracted way. “Not yet. The driver might have fallen asleep. They’re investigating.” He read a text on his phone, then turned to face the window and made a call.
“Where’s your necklace?” I asked Lincoln.
She reached up in a panic, feeling for the unicorn charm. She searched around as if it may have fallen off the bed or on the floor. “No,” she mumbled. “No.”
“Linny, we have to go downstairs,” Hal said, not noticing that she was flustered. “They’re waiting for us to do the press conference. Everyone wants to see that you’re all right.” He walked toward the door.
Tears formed as she looked under the chair. “It’s gone.” She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.
“I’ll get you a new one,” I offered.
She shook her head sadly and squeezed my hand. “Thanks, but it won’t be the same.” She wiped her palm across her cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” She paused at the door, and her eyes met mine. “Seriously. Thank you for saving me.”
“No problem. Taking care of you is what you pay me for.”
Her posture deflated a little as if that wasn’t the response she had hoped for. “Risking your own life might have been a little above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Well.” I winked. “I didn’t want your best day ever to end in death.”
She smiled at the memory of our day in Paris and made a move to leave.
“Hey,” I called as she leaned her shoulder into the door to swing it open. “You do realize I was off duty when the accident happened, right?”
She paused and turned her head to look at me. “Well, thank you even more then.” Her face glowed with a blush as she waved and ducked out into the hall.
The door clicked shut, and I was feeling pretty good until I moved to get out of the bed. My ribs felt like something was still clamped down and crushing them. It took my breath away, so I had to lean with one hand on the bed and gasped until my lungs filled back up. My left leg was obviously the one that had been burned because, when the blood flowed down into it, the throbbing was excruciating. The plan was to find my clothes and get dressed, but I gave up and reclined back down onto the mattress.
Lincoln returned two hours later, and since the hospital food looked like the plastic pretend play food that Huck played with as a kid, she asked her assistant to bring us some edible food from a café. Lincoln’s phone rang as the doctor arrived to examine me. She moved to lean against the wall and talked.
The doctor shone a penlight in my eyes and listened to my heart. “I want to run a few more tests before we discharge you,” he said. He wrote on a chart and then left.
Lincoln cried quietly as she continued to talk on the phone. “No, Mom. I’m fine. Really…it wasn’t them who got to me.” She looked at me and sighed, so I waved for her to come over. She sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned into my hug. “I have plenty of tin foil. Hal ordered extra for the rest of the crew.” She tilted her head to make eye contact with me and smiled. “Cain’s fine. I’ll tell him that you were worried about him, too… I know… I know… Okay, I should probably get going. Don’t forget to take your medications and eat something… The food at the hospital is screened to make sure it’s safe… I hired them myself. Trust me. I love you, Mom… Okay. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up and let out a heavy breath as she sunk against my chest.
“You okay?”
“It’s just so tiring. It’s always the same. Just when I think she’s getting a bit better, she goes back to the same crazy place.” She sighed and handed me her phone. “You’re going to need to call your family. It’s been all over the news that the tour bus crashed. They’ll be worried about you once they find out.”
“My phone was on the bus. Can Hal get me another one?”
“I’ll ask him. You can use this one for now.”
I dialed Huck’s number, but there was no answer, so I left a message telling her I’d call back. “Someone’s going to need to get our passports replaced, too,” I said to Lincoln after I hung up.
“I’ll take care of it.” She lifted her head off my chest and winked. “I’ll be your handler until you’re all better.” She abruptly hopped off the bed and headed toward the door with purpose. “I’ll ask about the passports and be right back.” She returned about twenty minutes later looking proud of herself. She put on a black baseball hat and sunglasses and posed like a tough guy against the wall.
I knew she was mocking me, and it was kind of funny, but I said, “I don’t look like that.”
“Yeah, you do—acting all bad-assed because you hang with bikers.” She crossed her arms and snarled her lip.
“I definitely don’t do that lip thing.”
She laughed and crawled up onto the bed to sit next to my feet. “Well, even without the sneer, I wouldn’t mess with you.”
“If you think I’m bad-assed, you should have met my dad. He could make you piss your pants just by looking at you.”
She reached over and held my hand up to inspect it. “Did he have piano playing fingers like you?”
“No. He could have probably crushed your skull with one hand.”
“Nice.” She released my hand and sat cross-legged. “Were you and Huck afraid of him?”
“I wasn’t exactly afraid of him. I respected him. Huck had no reason to be afraid. He was different around her. He treated her like a baby doll.”
“Is Huck her real name?”
“No, it’s actually Finn. He always called her Huckleberry, so everyone else did, too.”
She handed me the phone. “Do you want to try again to get ahold of her?”
“Um, yeah. Thanks.”
Huck started crying when she heard my voice. “I thought you were dead,” she was eventually able to choke out.
“I’m fine.”
“They said on the news that the bus rolled over two times and burst into flames.”
“It wasn’t that bad. Everybody’s fine.”
“You’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”
She always could read my tone better than anyone else. It wasn’t exactly a lie, though. I was downplaying the seriousness so she wouldn’t worry. “Huck, I’m fine. I got some stitches on my forehead, and there’s a bandage on my leg. That’s it.” Lincoln winke
d and squeezed my hand before she leaned over to get an iPad out of her bag.
“Was it scary to flip over inside the bus?” Huck asked.
“I don’t remember.” I spoke with as much nonchalance as I could to calm her down. “I was asleep when it happened.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear to God I was asleep. I’m fine. How’s school.”
“I hate it. Don’t try to change the subject. By the way, did you and Liv break up?”
“Yeah.”
“You should still call her to tell her that you’re all right.”
Huck had always liked Liv because they did girly things together like spa days and shopping trips. I assumed she’d be upset, but she didn’t sound that surprised. “Maybe you could call her for me.” Lincoln glanced at me, frowned as if she knew I was talking about Liv, then she looked back down and scrolled through something on the iPad.
“Did you have a fight because of what you did in those pictures?” Huck asked.
“What pictures?”
Lincoln winced.
“The ones of you and Lincoln in Paris.” Huck’s voice perked up with excitement. “The pictures where you look like you’re her boyfriend. God, I wish Digger would let me use my real name at school. I can’t even tell anyone that my brother is hooking up with Lincoln Todd.”
“Hooking up? Where’d you learn that term?”
Lincoln’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she avoided eye contact with me.
Huck giggled. “I’m fourteen, Jamie. I hate to break it to you, but kids in my grade hook up.”
“Jesus.” I exhaled and ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, you’d better not be hooking up with anyone. And that’s not what’s going on here, so I don’t want you talking like that.”
She chuckled. “What do you want me to call it? A romantic rendezvous? A passionate love affair? Steamy sex?”
“It’s a job. That’s it.”
Lincoln’s glance shifted in my direction, but she didn’t make eye contact. She tucked her hair behind her ear and then got off the bed.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Huck’s voice was so animated I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Every guy on the planet probably wishes he had your job.”
Lincoln leaned her shoulder against the window and stared down at the street below. I talked to Huck and denied everything for a while longer. Then I asked her to tell our grandparents that I was fine before we said goodbye. Lincoln’s iPad was on the bed, so I picked it up and scrolled through the images on a gossip site. There were dozens of photos of us in Paris—hugging to stay warm on the boat; laughing at the café; holding hands walking down the street; dancing at the restaurant; kissing on top of the Eiffel Tower.
I frowned and scrolled through the gallery again to study the pictures more carefully. “Did you notice someone taking these?” I asked her.
“No, but they have super telephoto lenses. They can be like a mile away and get shots as if they were sitting right next to you. I’m so sorry. I’ll call Liv and explain that it isn’t what it looks like.”
I stared at the photos for a long time, and a strange fluttering flared up in my chest when I realized that maybe it was what it looked like.
Hal knocked and came into the room. “All right, you’ve been released. There’s a car downstairs that will take you to a hotel room for tonight. They’ve got a custom bus on its way from Italy. We’ll be back on schedule by tomorrow night. Sara went out and bought you guys new clothes that are at the hotel. The passport office is issuing new passports, and I thought you might want this back.” He handed Lincoln her unicorn necklace.
A small whimper caught in her throat when he placed it in the palm of her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He hugged her and kissed her forehead.
I got out of bed and limped to the closet. It was empty. Hal held up a bag. “Here. Sara sent these over for you.”
He handed me the clothes and left. Lincoln didn’t move. I dumped out the jeans, sweater, leather jacket, and boots onto the bed.
“I can call Liv and fix things for you,” she said quietly.
I glanced at her, feeling torn about coming out and telling her the truth. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll tell her I paid you to pose for the pictures as a publicity stunt.”
I blinked for a long second to erase the pictures from my memory and remind myself that I had a job to do. “Can I borrow that hat you’re wearing?”
“No. I’m your handler. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. Don’t be late.” She pointed at me with mock seriousness before she left.
The images in the magazine pictures weren’t erased—they flashed through my mind like a slide show. In the shot from the boat ride, Lincoln was gazing up at Notre Dame. I was gazing at how her bottom lip curved when she smiled. When we were in line at the Louvre, the photo caught her arms mid-gesture as she told me a story, and my expression was locked in a grin that made it clear I thought she was infinitely more interesting than anything in any museum or art gallery. In all the shots, my hand was either resting on the small of her back or holding her hand.
And the kiss. If I hadn’t seen the picture, I probably would have kept telling myself that it was just me being nice so she would have her first kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower. Based on how it looked, it was undeniably more than that. The way I leaned in; the way my fingers clutched her hair; the way our lips melded together. It was way more. Obviously, I’d forgotten somewhere along the line that it was supposed to be just a job. And it scared the shit out of me when I realized that getting fired was not the only collateral damage I was going to suffer after everything blew up in my face.
Chapter Thirteen
The hospital lobby was a circus with cameras and reporters. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a hat or sunglasses, so I just ducked my head and bee-lined it for the SUV. Once I was in the vehicle, I stole the hat off Lincoln’s head and pulled it down over my eyes. Hal talked on his phone. Lincoln tried to engage me in conversation, but she eventually gave up when all I was giving her were grumpy one-word responses. We drove in silence through the streets. I didn’t even know what city we were in.
The driver dropped us off at a rear entrance of the hotel. A manager escorted us up in a service elevator. He led us down a hall and opened the double doors to the massive suite. I walked across the living room and opened the door to check out one of the bedrooms. It was the size of an apartment, and there was an entire wardrobe of jeans, T-shirts, leather jackets, and boots lined up on the bed. It was more clothes than I’d probably owned in my entire life. “Will this be satisfactory, Sir?” the manager asked me.
“Yeah, thanks.”
After he left, I checked Lincoln’s expression. I couldn’t unsee what I had seen in the pictures. It was obvious that my feelings for her were stronger than I’d thought, and I had no idea how to fix that. I could quit. I could act like a dick until she decided she wanted nothing to do with me. Or I could let our feelings develop into something potentially serious. Every option had shitty consequences—walk away without the money and never see her again, make her hate me, or enter into a relationship that would ultimately end when the tour was over and probably crush both of us. All three scenarios required hurting her, which was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.
She reached over to hold both my hands as we stood face-to-face. I knew what I wanted to do, but I didn’t know which one was the best choice. I needed time to think. I blinked to break the eye contact and stepped into the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I stacked up all the clothes and packed them into the leather duffle bag, then I flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Are you okay?” Lincoln asked through the door.
“I need to be alone for a while.”
She left without saying anything, and the TV turned on in the main room. At ten o’clock, she turned it off and went to bed. I couldn’t sleep.
The next morning,
she knocked on my door. “Cain, can I get you anything?” I didn’t answer, so she knocked again. “At least say something so I know you’re alive.” I rolled out of bed and crossed the room to open the door. Her face creased with concern. “Do you want to talk?”
I frowned and shook my head because I did want to talk, but I knew it would only make my decision more difficult.
“I’m sorry that I messed things up with you and Liv.”
“You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
I shook my head, touched by her sweetness and concern. Option two, being a dick to her, was out of the question. There was no way I could treat her badly. The only options left were quit and leave, or stay and make a mess of everything.
I really wanted to stay.
She searched my face and sounded cautious when she finally said, “We’re supposed to head out in about half an hour. Are you coming with us or should I arrange for you to fly home?”
My heart sped up, and my hand clamped the doorknob as I resisted the urge to push her against the wall and kiss her. As she waited for my answer, her eyelids closed in a slow blink and her eyelashes swooped like a butterfly touching down on her cheek. If a photographer had a telephoto lens aimed through the window, the entire world would have seen in my expression the moment when I realized it was going to be impossible to see her the way I did before, or treat her safety as only a job. I ran my hand through my hair and choked out, “I don’t know.”
She frowned, and her lips pressed together as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Eventually she said, “There’s breakfast in the other room,” and she walked away.
I showered, taped new gauze over the burn on my leg, and dressed before joining her in the living room. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do. Her expression fluctuated as if she wasn’t sure how to react. “I ordered you French toast,” she said. “And an omelette, and Cheerios because I wasn’t sure which you would feel like.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She poured milk into the cereal bowl. “At least have a couple Cheerios. They might help cheer you up.” She tilted her head and smiled in a silly way to try to make me laugh.
