I lightly set my hand on her arm, where her hands seem busy trying to hide the bruises. “Well, in that case, may the best couple win.”
When she leaves, Sarge informs me, “Lyncoln is on the way. And in a hurry.”
I sigh dramatically. I don’t want to see him right now. I am exhausted. Beyond exhausted. He told me to trust him, so I will try, but I don’t want him to seek me out because he thinks I’m in trouble. I want him to seek me out because he is ready to tell me what the freak is going on here.
“Well, call him off. Tell him I’m fine but exhausted and heading back to bed. She didn’t do anything.”
Sarge looks at me worried, more of a fatherly figure than a guard in this moment. “Do you mean it?”
I sigh again. “Tonight I do.” I really am exhausted. And worried. And sick and tired of Lyncoln being dark and mysterious again.
Sarge forgoes protocol, giving me a quick side hug. “You’ll get through it. You always do. Just keep on keeping on, hun.”
I nod, swallowing down my tears of helplessness.
Chapter 24
Wednesday drags on with no news from Samson and no Lyncoln around. Rather than sit around sulking and worrying about the upcoming vote, I decide to spend my day with Attie instead. It feels good to spend some extra time with her considering the cold hard truth that one of us is likely going home in two days.
“I can’t believe it has been almost two whole weeks since the last vote,” Attie says amazed.
I nod. “I’m with you on that. The days go terribly slow, but the weeks go quickly.”
She smiles at me. “Promise me no matter what happens, I get to come to your wedding?”
I laugh at that. “Come?! I don’t just need you to come. I need you right there by my side.”
“Wait-- what?!” She looks shocked, her eyes about to pop out of her head.
“Attie, I need you to be my maid of honor. I don’t know when the wedding will even be, but I need you there,” I say sure.
“ARE. YOU. SERIOUS!?!” She squeals and uses lots of hand motions, her hair flopping with all the movement.
I giggle at her. “I’m serious.”
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” Annnd now she’s chanting.
I giggle some more. “Calm down, girl. It’s just a wedding.” A wedding in which I am murderously mad at the groom currently, but hey, details shmetails.
She fans her hands by her face, trying not to cry. “This is just the best news ever.”
“Now if only Marisol and Henry go home so we can stay in this thing together and you can help me plan.”
That thought effectively sucks the laughter right out of our conversation.
She shrugs. “Maybe they will, Reagan. Without Hadenfelt around, maybe people will not be as afraid of him and will finally just vote from the heart instead of out of fear.”
“But Marisol shares his last name. It seems unlikely,” I argue. “She’s a constant reminder that although he is gone, he is not gone for good. Between her and his cronies, he still has pull, for whenever he shows his ugly face.”
She shrugs again before changing the topic. “How is Lyncoln? I haven’t seen him around much.”
I sigh feeling overwhelmed and a little depressed. I know I can talk to Attie about this. I trust her. “I haven’t seen him around much either.” I try my best to not sound bitter.
“What’s up with that?” she asks confused. “I know how he looks at you. I’m surprised he tolerates being away from you at all.”
“Yeah. Me either,” I agree. “I think he’s working on something big. He knows I know something is up, so he stays away. Partially, I think, because he wants to tell me, but for some reason feels like he can’t. I know something isn’t right. I just don’t know why he’s pushing me away.”
She furrows her brows in thought. “Well if he knows he’s hurting you by leaving you in the dark, he must have a good reason. A man like Lyncoln doesn’t do things just to be an ass.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. “Holy crap, Attie. Did you just say a curse word?”
She laughs. “Thanks for calling me out on it. I thought it would make me sound cool.”
I grin. “Nope. Just makes you sound even more perfect because you hesitate right before saying it.”
She playfully squints at me, “I’ll work on it.”
“How’s Knox?”
She nods, “He’s ready for this next vote to be over. Honestly, Reagan, we think it’ll be you guys at the end. We want it to be you guys at the end. We know we are more than likely out on Friday. It’s just a matter of time now. And like I told you before, we have done a lot of going over where to go and what to do and although we will have to leave our families and it will suck, I think we owe it to our townships to stay here. For a while anyway. At least for the transition of presidencies.”
I hug her at this news. Even if they are out, she’ll still be around.
She laughs. “So you better win. I don’t want to stick around if Marisol and Henry win.”
I shake my head serious. “Same. I know you think it’ll be us, but I want you to know I think you are just as deserving as we are. If we go home Friday, I won’t resent you one little bit. And despite what you may believe, I think you can beat her.”
Jamie then ruins our moment. “Ms. Scott, Taggert sent word that there’s no news. He wanted to make sure you two were updated throughout the day.”
I already know there is no news on the Samson front because I haven’t gotten an email lately. So he’s obviously referring to the whole Hadenfelt thing. I feel a little bad for being so angry when I found out, but I still can’t understand why they didn’t arrest the hateful man when they had the chance. They freaking had him.
“Crap.” I shake my head as Attie lets out a frustrated sigh in agreement.
“Sorry to interrupt the girly moment,” Jamie smiles and shrugs innocently and dramatically. “I mean, I was getting pretty choked up over here myself.”
“Smartass,” Attie playfully glares at him. Then her eyes dart to me. “Did I do better that time?”
I look at Jamie and we both burst out laughing at the same time. “Nope.”
****
The next morning, I fire up my tablet from Taggert and log into my email. It’s weird to think that the internet used to be used to search for so many things, like the nearest restaurant or hotel, or recipes, and even social media. Nowadays, that information is all still there, it just isn’t practical. So it just sits there wasting space as people in communications sift through the sites and take down unnecessary ones. Today the only practical uses for the internet are research, video conferencing, or emailing. And thank God for that because the old postal service is long gone. As my I look to my inbox, with my new fancy fake email, I am surprised to find an email from Samson again.
He is still okay! I take a huge breath of relief.
Claudette,
All is well. Three of us now. Hope you are well.
Good luck,
N.S.
Three. So there are two others with him in wanting to take down the drifter leadership, or the evilest of the drifters anyway. This is fantastic news!
But then I feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach about Hadenfelt and worry that if he were to show up at the drifter compound, it could ruin everything for Samson. I know I should speak with Taggert first before putting this information in the email, but I do so anyway. Not to spite Taggert but out of concern for Samson’s safety. I don’t want to do something against Taggert’s wishes and I don’t want him to tell me no on this. So if I don’t ask, then he can’t tell me no, right?
Sam,
H is gone. Watch your six.
Claudette
Feeling like I didn’t break any rules with that simple of an email, I’m pretty happy with myself and power down my tablet. Shortly after a lunch I barely pick at, Frank and Gertie arrive and we begin our preparations. I have never been happier to see them. I feel
so… alone.
At least I have to see Lyncoln tonight since it’s night one of the second voting results. I didn’t see him at all yesterday. Not a goodnight kiss, not a check in, nada. Zilch. Nottttthing. His distance makes me wonder, for the first time ever, if we were to go home tomorrow, would our relationship make it?
I shake my head and get back to the matter at hand. Thoughts like that are not going to make tonight go any smoother. When I chose Lyncoln, I chose him for life with an understanding of what he does for a living and that sometimes there are things I can’t/don’t want to know. I chose him. For forever. Nothing can change that. Right?
Dougall had planned to hold a parade of sorts for the final three couples before the results, but Frank and Gertie come with news that the citizens will be allowed only a meet-and-greet in the ballroom. Taggert apparently threw a fit about the candidates being so publicly accessible with Hadenfelt on the loose. And although I would love to be outside talking with the Denver people, it does seem like a much safer way to do it considering the current circumstances.
Freaking Hadenfelt.
Sarge peeks his head in while Frank and Gertie are chatting with me before we begin getting me ready. “Ms. Scott, Lyncoln said to let you know he would be here within two hours.”
I look to him surprised. “Thanks, Sarge.”
It’s still early afternoon. I guess I just figured I would see Lyncoln barely before our meet and greet. Or maybe even meet him there. I know he has been “busy” all week, so why would today be any different? I mean, he didn’t see me at all yesterday. At all. Even with Red Hawk going on, he had the courtesy to check in or come tell me goodnight. I sent him away Tuesday night, then didn’t see him at all Wednesday. I’m nervous to see him. Mostly fuming mad, but a little nervous too.
“Well then, we best get your butter bath out of the way, dear,” Gertie smiles while I run through a thousand and one ways to bite off Lyncoln’s head when he arrives. She knows Lyncoln and I aren’t our usual selves but leaves it alone. Thank goodness Frank is oblivious, or he would be all over us like white on rice.
“And just wait until you see your dress for tonight.” Frank claps his hands together once, signature Frank excited.
“Well, let’s get to work then,” I smile and try not to let the nervousness of tonight get to me. Hadenfelt is gone. The people can vote any way they please. And tonight is just the first half. Tomorrow we finally get to find out if Lyncoln and I will be able to bring my family to Denver or if staying in Denver without them will tear us apart.
Further apart than we already are anyway.
****
“You look amazing. You sure we have to go?” Lyncoln asks, looking me over from head to toe, all predator McPredatory.
I’m wearing a Frank masterpiece, yet again. This gown is a black strapless one and tight fitting to my hips. A huge skirt starts at the hips and flows around me like a usual ball gown would, except for the fact that the front is shorter than the back and shows off my legs. The back cascades in waves and ruffles to the floor while the front ends mid-thigh. The best part might be that the bodice and tight part is all black sparkly material, and the skirt is all silky material. The contrast between the two really catches the eye.
I’m always amazed at how Frank chooses a part of my body to showcase, like my legs or usually my back, but at the same time somehow finds a way to keep it elegant. I’ve seen some other dresses on the other girls throughout this thing that made me unsure of whether they were appropriate, but Frank never crosses that line. He always keeps me looking beautiful and proper yet shows off my assets all the same.
Lyncoln is wearing black on black again, with his vest having some sort of pattern in small, black squares that contrasts against a thin black tie. He smells of heaven, as usual, and I notice in a quick glance that his hair is slightly longer than it usually is. It gives him a ruffled look, which isn’t at all his usual style.
I’ve missed him.
I’m still angry as heck, but I have missed him. And he looks so good. I am super mad and upset at him, but I want to run into his arms and have him hold me at the same time. It’s a weird mix of emotions. My hormones are traitorous and needy. Stupid things.
“No, really,” Lyncoln says, looking me over again and settling on my bare legs.
“Maybe if you were around more often, it wouldn’t be so alarming when you see me like this,” I say half joking and half not. I secretly love his appraisal though as the tight-fitting portion of my dress makes me a little self-conscious. Just when I think I’m used to dressing like this, Frank puts me in something that stretches me a little bit more out of my comfort zone.
Lyncoln smiles playfully. “Ouch.”
“Well that makes one of us in a good mood,” I say with a frustrated hand gesture and a sigh.
He has been in a good mood since he got here, beginning with a smooch session the minute he saw me. I would ask for the reason for this good mood, but he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. And I know I’m being a pouty little girl about it, but enough is enough. When will he finally tell me what has been going on with him? Why didn’t he see me at all yesterday? It’s hard to stay mad at him when he has been in such a good mood though. Go figure. It’s almost showtime so of course Lyncoln is as charming as ever.
“Dance with me?”
He asks it so softly I barely catch it. There is something about his deep, velvety voice at a whisper that is just magical.
“Here?” I ask confused.
“Here.” He nods before pulling me into his arms and begins to move us to the beat of a music not there. He rubs his thumb in a circle on my back. “Remember the first night we danced?”
I nod and can’t help but smile even though I would like to go ahead and continue to pout all evening long in punishing him. “You told everyone I slipped.”
“God you looked incredible. And Marisol was such a jealous little brat, trying to trip you.” He shakes his head.
“If I recall correctly, she was successful in tripping me. You caught me. Then made a joke and I thought you were trying to sabotage me,” I smile mischievously. “I even thought the two of you were in cahoots.”
He dips me low and I can’t help but laugh a little. He pulls me back up and in close to whisper at my ear, “Regs, if I were trying to sabotage you, you would know.”
I understand we aren’t just talking about the first ball anymore. Flirty Lyncoln is almost too much for my hormones to handle, especially in their vexed state. I’m not sure if I want to kiss the crap out of him or deck him into next week.
Men, I tell you, men!
After a long and tender kiss, he again whispers at my ear, “I was a goner. You had me then and you have me now. Always will.”
His words amidst our stressful situation cut me like a knife. If his words are true, why won’t he just talk to me? I would never do this to him. Not even when I was deciding between him and Henry. I was still upfront and honest throughout all my indecisiveness. I feel the tears sting my eyes as I try to back away from him, but he stops me, pulling me back towards him.
“Regs,” he sears me with concerned blue-brown eyes. “Please don’t cry.”
I shake my head. Now is not the time to argue or to cry. “Let’s just go.”
“Regs,” he pleads.
“I can’t do this. I can’t be all cheerful and in a good mood when you’ve been pushing me away and not seen me for days. I am worried. I am exhausted. And I am trying with all my might to trust you like you asked, but sometimes the doubts try to pull me under. You get pissed at me when I don’t tell you something is bothering me yet here you are keeping something huge from me and I know it,” I stop to tap the tears off my face before they ruin my makeup. “So let’s just go downstairs and get this over with. I’ll fake it down there but not when it’s just us.”
“Okay.” Jaw clenched, he pulls me in to hug him, but I just can’t return it.
Why?
Why is he doing this
to me? And if he looks guilty and acts like he doesn’t like doing it to me, why does he continue to do it?
****
The way the evening pans out is they let people in to see us in waves. Each wave has about a half an hour and then a new batch of people comes in. Then eventually they will dismiss all the regular civilians. The cabinet members and remaining couples will then head downstairs to the safe room, the same one in which we sat the night of the drifter attack, which is where the cameras are all set up for the showing of the results.
Taggert isn’t taking any chances this evening. Anyone who wants to get in is fingerprinted at the door. They know exactly who they are letting in… or exactly who they aren’t.
I thoroughly enjoy talking with Lyncoln’s mom and rest of his family as they come in on the second wave. Wyatt is there and as charming as his cousin. I also get to see Vanessa again and it makes my night. I miss that girl more than I think possible. I wish I could talk to her every day. Too bad there weren’t Culling reunions or something like that.
I meet random person after random person. Then I find a pair of eyes watching me, and I recognize who they belong to. It’s the little boy from Thanksgiving that got pushed over rather rudely.
I smile and wave to him. He runs over and hugs my legs.
“Hi, Ms. Scott,” he says shyly despite his hugging.
I carefully and properly lean over in my dress so I am at his level. “Hello there, young man. I don’t think you ever told me your name.”
“Nath-an,” he says smiling.
I reach my hand out to shake his. “It is nice to meet you, Nathan.”
A very firm voice asks, “Nathan?”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 34
