by Meghan March
Lincoln crouches in front of me. “Don’t say that. I’ll talk to McKinley. There’s gotta be something going on. She was with my mom. McKinley wouldn’t have had time to fire anyone, plus, she’s not spiteful like that. You might not believe it, but some Riscoffs are good people. She’s one of them.”
“Aunt Jackie needed that job. I have to fix this.”
“Let me worry about it. I can fix it. All you have to do is promise you won’t skip town before we have a conversation that’s long overdue.”
Just like a decade ago, my instincts go to war. His hazel gaze urges me to agree, but I know I should stay as far away from Lincoln Riscoff as humanly possible.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s nothing we need to talk about.”
Lincoln’s features stay soft, but his stare intensifies. “That’s where you’re wrong, Blue. There is a hell of a lot that needs to be said. The way things ended—”
“They ended the only way they could have. Maybe that’s the way it should stay. It’s been a long time, and nothing good has ever come from a Riscoff and a Gable together.”
Maybe? Why am I already wavering in my conviction? Because this is Lincoln I’m dealing with, and refusing him anything is a legendary feat.
“I don’t know about you, but I remember a lot of good things that came from a Gable and a Riscoff being together.”
His deep voice turns rough, and my skin tingles like I’m wishing he would reach out to touch me.
What is wrong with me? Wait, it’s not me, it’s him. Just being around him sends my body and my mind into a tailspin.
Ten years ago, my addiction to Lincoln Riscoff was dangerous and altered my life in a way I never fully recovered from. Now? It would be even crazier. He’s the heir to a billion-dollar empire, and I’m infamous. The stakes are higher. We both have more to lose. He could never give me what I want—a quiet, simple life out of the limelight.
“I can almost hear your brain coming up with reason after reason not to agree with anything I say, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying, Blue. There are some mistakes a man only makes once, and losing you was one of them.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the sincere expression on his face. If I’m not careful, he’ll do what he always did and convince me against my better judgment.
With a deep breath, I find my fortitude and meet his stare once more. “I was young and dumb, and I made terrible decisions back then that I’ve paid for over and over again. I’m trying to start fresh, and I can’t take the chance of making the same mistakes again. Whatever you think you want from me, you don’t. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m older and hopefully a hell of a lot smarter. I think it’s best if you go.” I’m incredibly proud of myself that my voice doesn’t quaver as I deliver my speech.
Lincoln rises. “I’ll go, but first, I have to say that you’re right—we did make bad decisions. We let other people come between us. You’re not the same girl you were back then, and I’m not the same hotheaded kid with something to prove. I’ve learned too. I know the value of what I lost. You don’t know what I want from you, Blue. But you will, when you’re ready.”
I stand, on the verge of telling him I’ll never be ready, but he backs up and grasps the door handle.
“I’ll make sure your aunt has a job, and then I’ll be back. You and I aren’t done. We won’t be done until you can tell me that I mean absolutely nothing to you and mean it.”
Lincoln pushes the door open and slips out before I have a chance to lie to him.
I flop back on the futon and yank a blanket over my head.
He meant what he said. He’ll be back, and before he returns, I need to learn how to say it convincingly.
37
Lincoln
I step out of the shed, and Jackie Gable stalks toward me from the back patio of the house. Her face is hard as she meets me at the back gate.
“I know what you’re thinking. You think if you can get my job back, then you’ve got a clear shot at my niece. Your plan isn’t going to work, though, because I quit.” She keeps her voice low, and the challenge in it is impossible to miss.
Stubborn Gable women. They might actually be the death of me.
“Why the hell would you quit? Whitney said you need that job.”
“You think I want to be associated with your family after what your mother said to my niece?”
“That’s some expensive pride.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and her chin goes up. “Damn right, and I’m willing to stand up for it.”
“Like my sister stood up for you when she brought you on? Even though my mother demanded she fire you immediately? I remember you being in a tough spot back then.”
Jackie’s lips flatten. “It’s none of your damn business what kind of a spot I was in, then or now.”
“It’s my business when you leave my sister in the lurch after she went out on a limb for you. I thought you respected her more than that.”
Something flits across Jackie’s face, telling me I scored a hit.
“Your sister is the only decent one of you. She understands what I had to do. Now, get the hell out of my yard and don’t come back. We don’t need any more of the kind of trouble you bring. We’ve got plenty of our own already.”
Instinct claws at me to fix this by throwing money at it. To somehow make Jackie Gable not hate me for something I didn’t do or say. Or maybe she hates me for not protecting Whitney from my mother. I’m sure there’s a plethora of reasons I could choose, but instead, I turn and walk away.
Sometimes, the only thing you can do is retreat, regroup, and work out a new strategy before you end up saying things you can’t take back.
38
Lincoln
The past
Whitney’s phone rang quietly on the table over and over while she was in the shower.
I told myself I wasn’t going to look. It was none of my business who was calling her. I glanced at the bathroom door, and the water continued to run as the phone rang for the fourth time. If it was her parents and something bad had happened, she’d want to know.
“Your phone’s going off,” I told her through the door. When she didn’t answer, I made an executive decision. It could be an emergency.
I walked to the table and grabbed her phone. Her caller ID read Ricky calling.
What the hell? That cheating asshole is still bothering her?
I didn’t care that I had to change the radio every time his song came on. He was still a tool, and I could still buy and sell him.
The phone went quiet and immediately started ringing again.
Anger built up in my chest at the thought of how often he might be harassing her. That shit had to stop. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I answered it anyway.
“You need to stop calling, asshole.”
“Who the fuck is this?”
His shocked tone didn’t surprise me.
“Whitney’s boyfriend.”
“The fuck you are!”
“What did you think she was going to do when she found out you cheated on her, you piece of shit? Keep letting you treat her like that? No. She moved on and found a real man.”
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked again.
“Lincoln Riscoff.”
The call went silent for a moment. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. She wouldn’t touch a Riscoff. Ever. Try again, dick. Better yet, give my girlfriend the phone so I can tell her I got her letter.”
Got her letter?
“What the fuck are you talking about?” This time, I was the one shocked.
Ricky laughed like I was the asshole. “My girl still loves me, Riscoff, and she just sent me the proof. If she’s with you, it’s nothing but a cheap shot at revenge. But don’t worry, I’ll forgive her. Whitney and I were always meant to be together, and the piece of paper I’m holding proves it.”
“Listen to me, you piece of shit—” But Ricky hung up before I could say
anything else.
“Who was that?” Whitney came out, towel in one hand, squeezing the water out of her dripping hair.
I didn’t care that she was standing four feet away from me, naked. All I heard was Ricky Rango’s voice in my head. “My girl still loves me, Riscoff, and she just sent me the proof.”
I held out her phone. “You missed a call from your boyfriend.”
Confusion creased her features. “What?”
“Ricky Rango called to tell you he got your letter, and he agrees with what you said—that you two are meant to be together.” My words came out flat and hollow, which was the exact opposite of how they felt tearing out of my throat.
“What?” she asked, now holding the towel in front of herself.
“Your letter, Whitney. He got it. He forgives you for your revenge fuck.”
Her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline as her mouth dropped open. “But—”
“Did you send him a fucking letter?”
“Yes, but—”
She wrote him a letter. She loves him, and I was nothing but revenge. I couldn’t fucking believe it, but she didn’t deny it.
“I was risking everything to be with you. Everything. And you’re already making sure your boyfriend is going to take you back after you fuck someone else?” I shook my head, disgust coating every word. “You have thirty seconds to get your clothes and get the fuck out of my sight.”
“Lincoln!” Her face was stricken. Probably because her game was up.
I wasn’t going to fall for the tears gathering in her blue eyes this time. I hated that I cared that she’d played me. I hated that I gave her the power to rip my heart out like this.
Forcing myself to turn stone cold, I straightened my shoulders and stared at her with dead eyes. I’m a Riscoff. No one has the power to hurt me. Especially not Whitney Gable.
I knew that was a lie as soon as I thought it. But apparently I’d gotten really fucking good at lying to myself lately.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word you have to say. Get the hell off my property. I should’ve never trusted a Gable. I knew better.”
39
Whitney
Lincoln’s words slashed my skin like shards of broken glass, gouging and leaving me shredded. There wasn’t a single bit of softness or doubt in his tone. Whatever lies Ricky had told Lincoln about me or us, Lincoln had believed him completely, without even giving me a chance to explain.
I blinked back tears, not wanting him to see them fall after he just threw me away like a piece of trash. I rushed to the bed and grabbed my dress off the floor, then yanked it on.
When I turned around to face him, it was like looking at a stranger. His gaze was filled with hate and disgust. I already knew there was no reasoning with him. And why would I want to defend myself to someone who had already decided I was guilty?
“I don’t know what he told you, but you don’t know a single fucking thing about anything. You said you loved me.” A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat. “But you don’t have a clue what love is.”
Lincoln’s mouth twisted cruelly. “Save it, sweetheart. I don’t believe a word coming out of your lying mouth. At least it was good for one thing. And that sure as shit wasn’t telling the truth.”
I sucked in a breath. If he was trying to hurt me and drive me away, he’d scored a direct hit. Tears burned my eyes, but I dashed them away.
“Go fuck yourself. I hope you choke on your own dick.”
I ran to the door and grabbed my shoes but didn’t bother to put them on. I wasn’t standing in this room for another second longer than I had to. When I rushed outside into the pouring rain, there was no chance Lincoln would try to chase me down like the first time I ran from this cabin.
One bad decision after another. I should have known better.
Gravel bit into my bare feet as I ran down the driveway toward the road, but I didn’t care. I’d rather walk home barefoot, bleeding, and soaking wet than ask Lincoln Riscoff for anything.
Never again.
I was done with men. Done with all of them.
I was almost to the road when headlights cut across my path, and I dodged the front end of an SUV. I tripped on a log and tumbled into the woods. My wrist screamed with pain as I tried to catch my fall.
“Who the hell’s there? And what the fuck are you doing on my property?”
I was on my knees, holding my wrist, when someone slammed a door and came around to see me struggling to stand in the mud.
As if this night couldn’t get any worse.
Commodore Riscoff.
40
Whitney
Present day
“Please promise me you’ll stay. You can’t leave, Whit. You just got here.” Cricket’s begging dumps another million pounds of guilt onto me.
“Your mom quit her job because of me. Don’t you think I’ve done enough damage already?”
“Stop being so melodramatic. Mom’s a grown-ass woman. She knew what she was doing when she quit. I’m sure she considered the consequences before she handed in her notice.”
“Are you high? Because we both know your mom has a hell of a temper, especially when someone swipes at one of us.” Cricket runs a stop sign, and I repeat my question. “Seriously? Are you high?”
She shakes her head. “No. And that used to be a yield sign, thank you very much. I always forget they changed it. I saved the edibles for later.”
“Cricket . . .” I don’t know what to say to my cousin.
She stops at a red light and turns to me. “We’re getting out of Gable for a couple hours, okay? You’ve been home for a half second, and yes, some bad shit happened. But I’ve barely seen you, and you’re already plotting your escape. I can’t lose you again so soon.”
I can feel the guilt trip starting as she turns onto the highway that will take us to High Pines, the next city over the pass, and one that’s about double the size of Gable. She didn’t tell me where we were going when I got into the van, and I didn’t particularly care. Anywhere but here seems to be my most desired location at the moment.
“Just give me tonight to change your mind, or at least try to accept the idea of you leaving again.”
“Okay. I give in.”
Cricket’s sunny smile just makes me feel worse about the fact that I’m already mentally repacking my bags and trying to decide where I’m going to go.
“Good! We need cousin time, away from the drama. And when we go back to Gable, we’re going to get drunk, because that’s pretty much the only way I know how to deal with the thought of you leaving me again. And the thought of Karma being my maid of honor.”
And my guilt-o-meter keeps climbing . . .
“Hunter has all these friends coming in for the wedding. He could easily have ten groomsmen. And I’m over here with my sister, who’s a cuntcake ninety percent of the time, and my cousin, who can’t wait to leave town.”
“You know I wish I could stay—”
“Then stay. Because you know what my other option is? Marjorie from work. She likes to party. And by party, I mean build shelters in the woods and try to see how long she can go without coming back to civilization. Her armpit hair hits her elbow, and I don’t think showers are her friend. The rest of my coworkers are guys, and I’m pretty sure Hunt would object to having them stand up for me in dresses.”
She shoots me a pleading look, as if it’s necessary at this point.
“Just give me one night, Whit, and promise me if you have fun tonight, you’ll stay another week. Call it a trial basis. We’ll sort things out with Mom, and my wedding won’t be far off, and you can start the countdown calendar for running away to wherever you want to hide next.”
“Fine. I’ll stay.” What else can I really say to that?
Cricket squeals and reaches over to hug me. The van swerves and I lunge for the steering wheel, but she grabs it before we hit the ditch.
“I’m so glad you see it my way, because I’m actually tak
ing you to get a bridesmaid dress right now so you can’t back out.”
My jaw drops as I look at my cousin—the one person I didn’t think could withhold any information or be remotely sneaky. “You tricked me?”
“It was necessary. Once you’ve got a dress, you’re sticking around for the wedding, and I need you. Like Mom said, you’re all that’s standing between me and the steamroller named Mrs. Havalin.”
“You win, but only on the condition that I get to pick out something that looks fabulous on me and will look terrible on Karma.”
“Yes!” Cricket fist pumps with both hands in the air. “Jesus, take the wheel!”
“Cricket!” I scream as the van hits the rumble strip and veers toward oncoming traffic. Horns blare, but she yanks the wheel back just in time. “Next time, I’m driving.”
“Chill out. Eat the candy in the glovebox. You need it way more than I do.”
41
Lincoln
“You promised me you’d play nice with Whitney, man. And now my future mother-in-law is unemployed. What the fuck is going on?” My friend’s tone is pissed when I answer his call.
“I didn’t know her aunt was going to quit her job until after it was done. I’m going to figure it out.”
Hunter releases a long breath. “I’m only getting married once, and I want Cricket to be happy when she walks down the aisle. If her cousin isn’t standing up for her, she won’t be happy.”
“I get it. I’m working on it.”
“You better work faster, because if Cricket’s last-ditch effort to keep Whitney in town fails, I don’t want to have to kick your ass.”
I home in on the part of his statement that pertains to Whitney. “What kind of last-ditch effort?”
