“That you are. I could get used to it too,” he says with a slow smile and that animalistic look returns to his eyes.
He kisses me roughly and I gladly return it.
Pulling apart minutes later he says, “You were right, I’m sorry.”
I let out a giggle which results in him looking at me like I’m crazy. “How do those words taste in your mouth?” I ask.
“Not as good as kissing you does.”
Woah.
I feel myself blush again and he laughs. I play with his tie needing to say one last thing before he kisses the crap out of me again, which I’m sure is coming. Like a freight train. A loaded freight train. A heavy loaded freight train going down a steeeeep hill.
“Lync. With all this other craziness, I need for us to be good. I need to not worry about us on top of everything else,” I say already feeling worried. “I need us to be good because if we aren’t then we don’t even stand a chance. And I care more about us than I care about winning the Culling. With the weight of all these other problems, I just need us to be good.”
“We’re good,” he says, taking my hand and holding it to his cheek, with his hand on top of mine.
“Yours?” I ask.
“Mine.”
Chapter 4
The next few days come and go. Although Lyncoln says we’re fine, he seems to have a cloud hanging above him and is darker and more mysterious than usual. Physically, we are fine as he kisses me breathless whenever he gets the opportunity. His hand on my knee is now just a constant thing, whenever I’m within reach. I know he wants me and loves me, but emotionally I feel like he is holding something back.
I’m sure it has to do with Wyatt and his being worried about his family, so I don’t press it too hard; I’m worried sick about Ashton too. Or maybe it’s just because of Hadenfelt having access to the monitors and our not being able to talk about everything freely. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt since there is so darn much going on. He assured me we were good, so I need to trust him a little.
Dougall clears her throat and I refocus on our Monday interview happening.
She raises her eyebrows. “As you know, making it to the final four means that although you don’t have to, you may marry the person you are coupled with as you may now relocate to Denver, or whichever township you choose, even if you don’t make it any further in the Culling. Will the two of you be getting married regardless?”
“Yes.” Lyncoln says it so powerfully and intense that I can’t help but smile and blush.
“Which township would you choose should you not make it any further?” she asks.
Lyncoln says, “Omaha.”
At the same time I say, “Denver.”
“Uh-oh. Why the difference in opinions?” Dougall smiles playfully although she already knows our answers to the question because she hounded us with these same questions this afternoon.
“We will go to Omaha,” Lyncoln explains in that bossy way of his. “Reagan has a great family and I know she would miss them immensely. You know, happy wife, happy life, as they say.” He winks at me and smiles his killer smile.
“We’ll stay in Denver,” I smile and shake my head as I firmly argue, “While I do have a great family and I would miss them more than they would know, Lyncoln has family here too. And if that isn’t enough, Lyncoln’s role in our military is more pressing than my role in Omaha. Our military needs him here. His keeping our citizens safe is more important. And he has more than proven himself.” I stop to look at him and give his nearest bicep a squeeze. “Leaving and taking with us his experience and expertise would be a disservice to the entire country, not just Denver. Selfishly, I would love for us to go to Omaha. Logically, I cannot do that to our country.”
“Agree to disagree.” Lyncoln smiles and winks at me again as he squeezes my hand. We truly do not agree on this, but he keeps telling me it’s a moot point. He thinks we will make the final two and my family will come to Denver. I’m not so sure.
“So basically, we hope it doesn’t come to that!” I laugh nervously and see Dougall’s approval in her smile.
****
This whole week flies by filling my time with sims, sitting in on cabinet meetings, and interrogations with Samson. Before I know it, Lyncoln and I have completed our Friday night interview, the last one before we travel for the tour of the townships. We will be starting the tour in Vegas, then going to Galveston, Omaha, Detroit, Seattle, and finally back to Denver. We will do one a day for the next six days and will be back next Friday for yet another interview. It’s definitely crunch time as far as the Culling goes. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at the same time.
I feel honored to be one of the few people in our country that gets to bounce between townships, and not only between just a few of them, but to see all of them! We have to have our blood drawn before entering each new township, of course. This is only the second time the candidates have done a tour of each township, the last time being when President Maxwell, Professor Bennett, and the other finalists went. I’m both excited and nervous about meeting the people across the country. Will I get to see Marcia? Will I get to spend some time with my family? It feels like forever ago since they were here in Denver. So much has happened since then.
I have no fanciful ideas about this tour though, there is one and only one purpose to what we are doing; we are campaigning for votes. We are winning the people over and we only have one shot to do it. The first vote is two weeks away. In two weeks there will only be six of us left. Or three “couples”. We started with 100 of us. Will I be one of the last six standing? Or will our votes not be enough? Will my happy ending with Lyncoln be yanked out from under me?
Last night in our meeting with the President, Henry, and Taggert, we discussed the situation. The majority of the Denver votes will go to Marisol and Henry. Denver is the most populated, so it doesn’t look good for Lyncoln and me. There is no way Marisol and Henry are going anywhere for this first vote, while there is very much the possibility that we are. The only thing that gives me a twinge of hope in knowing that is that I can stay here with Lyncoln or he can leave with me no matter what.
Henry is hanging in there, but I know he hates his life right now. I wish there was something we could do to remove him from the situation. We can’t make a move on Hadenfelt or the dirty guards until we have a solid plan.
Henry and President Maxwell seem to think the best way is to just do nothing and have another couple win it fair and square. The President has been getting Lyncoln and me all the votes he can without just coming out and publicly saying it. He has been holding meetings with his most loyal cabinet members to get us more support. Lyncoln and Taggert seem to think there should be another way though, a way to take action. I have stayed back in the arguments. What I think they should do doesn’t seem to be something they will consider.
The best way to me would be to arrest Hadenfelt, throw him in jail, and leave him there. Cut off the head of the snake. That doesn’t seem to be an option though, and we are sure he has already thought of that possibility too and has something in place for that. Ugh.
The thing about politics that irritates me the most is that it’s all theories and strategies and very little action. I want more action. Sure, it’s true that Hadenfelt is out of power as soon as another couple wins, but with Marisol and Henry still in this thing, there is the very large possibility of him gaining more power too. It’s a huge gamble. One I don’t at all feel comfortable with.
And on top of everything else, I wish Lyncoln would just talk to me about whatever is on his mind and we could work it out together. He’s still pulling back a bit.
“Have I mentioned you look good tonight?” he asks with a shy smile as we head upstairs, interview now over.
I’m wearing a pink chiffon ballgown that makes me feel like a princess when it swishes while I walk. I smile. “Once or twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” I loop my arm through his as we walk down the hallway tow
ards my room.
He playfully grins. “You look good tonight.”
Our guards are a few yards behind us. The only time Jamie seems not as tense these days is when Lyncoln is around. Double protection when your boyfriend is pretty much an assassin for the military.
I laugh. “Thanks. You too.”
Jamie opens the door for us and I turn to say goodnight to him, but as the door fully opens, I see a huge TV and popcorn. Real, buttery smelling popcorn! And if my eyes don’t deceive me, there’s chocolate candy too.
“What is this?” I feel like my eyes are popping out of my head.
What is this?
“I told you I wanted to take you on a date. You agreed,” Lyncoln says softly as we enter my room. “This was the best I could do for now.”
I am so taken back by his kind gesture despite his moodiness this week that I’m at a rare loss for words, but I manage to stammer out a, “How?”
“Frank and Gertie helped, of course.” He shrugs before continuing, “Look, I know we leave tomorrow for Vegas, but I just wanted to properly date you before all that craziness. And no matter what happens in two weeks, it’s you and me.” He starts massaging my shoulders. Like I needed any convincing of going on a date with him.
“You and me,” I say, taken in with emotion. Somehow I know that in order for our ending to truly be happy, neither of us can be separated from our families. That means a final two finish in the Culling and bringing my family here to Denver. So close, and yet, so far.
His hands pause for a moment as he catches my gaze. “That being said, I am with you. We can do this. We have to get those votes. We can do this, Regs. We don’t need Maxwell’s votes. The country will fall for you just like the rest of us all have.” His eyes are full of adoration as he speaks. Something I’m not sure I’m used to yet.
“We can do this…” I say with a soft smile, almost as a question.
“We can. And will,” he replies with that arrogant cockiness that only he can pull off. He rubs his hands together excitedly, leaving my shoulders to feel cold. “Now. Two options. Chick flick, or the animated light-hearted choice?”
I can’t help but grin. “Definitely animated.”
The next two hours we snuggle on the pillows of my bed and watch the animated movie, The Lion King, about a lion cub that loses his father and loses his way. I can’t help but get teary-eyed when the dad dies. The comparison to Lyncoln’s life is just too weird. Fortunately there is also comic relief.
Afterward, spirits running high, we talk back and forth, staying up entirely too late.
He finally glances at the clock and sighs. “Well, I better go back to my room, sweetheart, or Frank will kill me in the morning for making you look tired.”
“Fine,” I pout as I force myself to uncuddle from his chest and sit up.
“Marry me already and then I will never have to leave,” he says only half-jokingly.
I shrug. “I’m surprised they care if you even do leave at this point.” I mean, when’s the last time he propped open my door like we are supposed to do?
“They don’t. Not all of us do. I do because I care about you, and I don’t want anyone to doubt our relationship for any reason.” He pauses. “And because I want everyone else to respect you as much as I do.”
“Wait. Others don’t leave?” I am completely shocked by this new piece of information.
“Nope.”
“Who?!” I blush red. “Are they? Do they…” I know Lyncoln hates the word “sex” so I don’t know what to ask. Or if I even want to know.
“Really, Regs?” He smiles as he runs a finger along my blush. “Well, Marisol has been trying to stay over with Henry every night this week, I think more so to spy on the President than anything. The President’s guards aren’t allowing it though. Elizabeth and Maverick haven’t spent a night apart since Oliver. As to if they are…” he smiles at me and winks knowing that I will continue to blush, “I don’t know, and I don’t care to ask.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage.
Am I ready for that? I know I don’t have to sleep with him, sleep with him. The idea of actually just sleeping beside him is very appealing. But am I ready for the other stuff that goes with it when you are in an intimate setting like that with someone? Considering I blush every time I think about it, I don’t think so. I’d like to say it’s because I’m the youngest candidate at 18 that I feel as taken back by the whole reproducing thing, but some of my classmates were already “doing the deed”. I just never found a person that made me feel much of anything. Until now.
He pulls my chin up so I’m looking him in the eyes. “Reagan. Even when we’re married, we won’t do anything until you’re ready, you know that, right? Stop worrying your pretty little head about it.”
“Well now I know that,” I nod shyly. “I feel inexperienced though. You’ve done it twice before and I haven’t.”
He cringes uncomfortably.
“What? Not twice?” I ask confused. He didn’t lie to me, did he? Were there more? Surely all the Denver women between the ages of 18-25 would want to have a go at him, but how many women were there before me? I thought he told me two. I try to think back on the conversation that took place in the Presidential Kitchen after the Isabella situation.
“I said I slept with two girls. I didn’t say the frequency,” he winces. “I’m sorry. I should have been more specific.”
“How many times?” I demand automatically while getting defensive and staring him down
“Do you really want to know?” he asks softly, trying to reach for me.
“How many times?!”
“I don’t know exactly. I didn’t count. At least a dozen,” he tells me while looking like he’s been shot.
“Names?” I’m not used to this fiery jealous feeling. It does not feel good. I do not like it even one little bit.
“Reagan,” he starts, “it doesn’t matter. I wish I hadn’t if that’s any consolation to you. I was young and dumb, and hotheaded, and a troublemaker. Girls gave me attention, and sadly, I liked the way it made me feel. It was a way to shut everything off and let off some steam.”
“Names,” I repeat, starting to get upset. “If someone asks me about it, I would like to know more about the topic of my future husband’s old affairs than everyone else. I never want to be blindsided where you are concerned.”
“Jillian and Jade,” he offers over dejectedly.
“You have a thing for ‘J’ names or something?” I snap before realization sinks in. “Wait. Jade?! The same Jade that was in the Culling?!” I can’t stop the volume or pitch of my voice from rising as I ask.
He knows better than to speak at this point, so he just nods in confirmation.
“The Jade that I overheard bad-mouthing me in the hallway with Sapphire when I was walking with Oliver during our group project? You slept with that Jade? More than once?” I feel confused and outraged this is the first I’m hearing of it.
I mean, I actually knew her! No wonder she hated my guts so bad. Lyncoln was paying me attention and not her, despite their history. I would have been bothered by me too if I were in her shoes.
“Look. She wasn’t always so obtuse. It was before she started hanging out with that crowd. I never really liked her, I just...” he looks at me hesitantly.
“You what?” I ask heatedly. My anger is increasing the longer we talk. This perfect night took a turn for the worse. But this conversation was bound to happen eventually, and I don’t think there would have ever been a right time for it either.
“I wasn’t interested in her as a person, just what she was offering. I was young. She was young. Same when I made-out with Isabella. They were there and willing and nice to look at. I was young and stupid. It made me feel like I had a bit of power at a time in my military career when I had none, and it helped my bad boy image.” He winces again, waiting for my reaction.
I bring my fingers up to pinch my nose. “How long did this go on?” I shouldn’t h
ave to ask these questions. He should have told me all of this instead of making me interrogate him.
“A month, no more than two. Then she kept wanting more and I didn’t.” He shrugs honestly.
“Is that it?” I get the weird feeling he isn’t telling me everything.
“She tried to get back together with me numerous times, including on the night of the first ball. I made it clear I wasn’t interested,” he admits, letting out a breath. “I already knew you were it for me at that point.”
That helps. A little. “And with Jillian?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about her. She’s happily married now. She was a few years older than me. We only went that far twice, and it feels like forever ago. I was 16.”
16?! Holy balls. Holy freak. Holy freak balls.
Good grief. So one repeat meaningless hookup when he was 16 holy-freak-balls years of age and one hot and messy history with Jade. Check and check. Checkity, check.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You knew I had a history. I have probably kissed at least a dozen other girls, too. Maybe two dozen. It means nothing to me.”
I remember Gertie telling me after looking at only his picture that he looked like a man who could kiss a woman. Apparently, she was very right. More right than we both ever thought. I also remember Vanessa telling me about all the girls that chased him and that I was the only one he had ever done the chasing after. This doesn’t make me question his feelings for me, it just makes me question myself. Why me?
“It just makes me feel… insecure. Like I won’t measure up in comparison since I’ve never done any of that,” I say honestly, looking at my hands trying to find a way with words to convey how I feel in this moment.
“It shouldn’t. And I can’t change it. I can’t go back and fix it. But now you know everything. After Dad died and feeling so useless in that situation, I kind of wanted people to fear me. I needed people to fear me. So I amped up the bad boy thing. Girls were attracted to me and let me do what I wanted to with them. It gave me a rush. Sadly, they were an end to a means. It isn’t a good excuse, I’m just trying to explain where I was at mentally and why.” He pauses. “I never fell for anyone like I did for you though. I wasn’t looking for you either. You just came out of nowhere.” He shrugs as he finishes, waiting for my reaction.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 6
