Straight Up (Twisted Fox Book 3)

by Charity Ferrell

  I hope my tone isn’t bitchy, but regret rushes through my thoughts. I knew Lincoln would be suspicious of the hoodie. If we don’t talk about another subject, that conversation will stray back to what I’m wearing. The problem is, I don’t know if I can deter him from it all night.

  Lincoln runs his hands through his thick hair before plopping down next to me, his leg brushing against mine. “You not showing up to Georgia’s party or to work tonight scared the shit out of me.” Shifting, he looks at me, the expression on his face brimming with exhaustion and concern. “I’m not sure if you’re avoiding me because of what happened, but I can’t …” His voice drifts as he searches for the right words … or the balls to say what is already on his mind. “I can’t lose you, Cassidy. I can’t lose you over a stupid miscommunication.”

  My mouth falls open, all thoughts of Quinton temporarily pausing.

  “I can’t lose you.”

  As if I wasn’t hot enough in this hoodie, his admission sends a shot of warmth through my blood.

  How long does it take the air conditioner to freeze this place up?

  He squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s why I’m here … to make sure you don’t hate me.” Slowly opening them, he locks his heavy gaze on mine. “And if you do, then my next mission is to convince you not to.”

  Just when I thought this damn man couldn’t be perfect enough, he has to show up and allow those words to fall out of his mouth. Never in my life have I experienced a man like this—a man who doesn’t prioritize hanging with his frat boys over me, a man who’s worried I’m upset and stresses about it, a man who has done nothing yet still wants to prove himself.

  “I won’t lie and say it didn’t catch me off guard. It crushed my soul when I walked in to find you with her.”

  He doesn’t break eye contact. “It was fucked up, I know.”

  “Had I not shown up, I would’ve never known about her.”

  “There’s nothing to know about her. She means nothing to me.”

  “But she did once. I saw the hurt on her face when she left.” It was the same raw emotion I’d feel if I lost Lincoln.

  “Isla and I were sex. Nothing more.” He signals back and forth between us. “You and me? That’s not us. I want so much more than sex with you.”

  “How did you even get involved with her? It’s not like you went to school together.”

  “She was one of my mother’s best friends.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Back then, I had trouble connecting with women my age—”

  “Or younger women, it seems.”

  He nods. “Fresh outta high school, I started dating one of my mother’s friends. It was a short fling, and I guess word got out that I liked”—he clears his throat—“cougars. After graduating college, I got involved with Isla.”

  “While she was married?”

  “She told me she was separated from her husband.”

  “Did it last long?”

  “Almost a year.”

  “Wow. So, it wasn’t just a fling. That’s a long-ass time.”

  “On and off for a year, depending on where I was in my life.”

  “What happened when things broke off?”

  “Her husband found out, and then I went to prison. She tried visiting a few times, but I refused. I want nothing to do with her. Her husband is the one who put my family in prison.”

  “What?”

  He nods. “He found out about the affair and became dead set on bringing my family down. I guess there were whispers about fraudulent shit. That, or Isla fed him information after I broke things off with her. I’m not sure.”

  I like that he’s telling me the truth.

  “So, she really means nothing to you?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” His eyes soften. “You’re the only woman who means something to me like that. You’re the only woman I want to be with, Cass.”

  We’re inches away from each other. Emotions high. My hormones on overdrive. Our eye contact is firm. It’s dangerous, given my bruising. I’ve never connected with anyone like this before.

  Unable to stop myself, I scoot closer to him, erasing any distance between us, and stare up at him.

  With a slight hesitation, I brush my lips against his. With him, there’s no hesitation. As soon as our mouths meet, he slides his tongue into my mouth.

  As our lips tangle together, there’s a raw emotion that didn’t exist during our last kiss. This kiss, we’re allowing every emotion toward the other to take the frontline, feeding it to the other.

  He brackets his hands around my waist and tugs me onto his lap. There’s a slight pain in the movement, but I ignore it. Tilting my hips forward, I rock against him, his cock hardening underneath me, causing me to grind on his lap.

  “Cass,” he groans, pulling back, resulting in an annoyed huff from me. “We need to talk about us more.”

  “Kiss first, talk later.”

  “Cass.” This time, he says my name in more of a warning.

  “Linc,” I mock. “Just a minute. Give me a minute of kissing.”

  “Fine,” he says, feigning annoyance. “We can have some fun before we go into the deep parts.”

  “Mmm … deep parts.” I grin.

  “Jesus, babe. We have to get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “The gutter is the best place for the mind to be.” I go in for another kiss, thankful he’s giving in to our desires.

  We start slow before it turns frantic, and he’s lowering me onto my back.

  “We need to get this damn sweatshirt off,” he says, hovering over me.

  Since his lips are on mine, I don’t process his words. I’m so wrapped up in him, forgetting my real life, and I lift my arms to assist him. When I tip my head back, he rains kisses over my cheek while slowly drawing the hoodie over my body. I gasp in pain, knocking me out of my Lincoln haze, and reality smacks into me harder than my need for this man.

  “What the fuck?”

  I freeze at his tone.

  He’s staring at my neck in fury as I lie underneath him, wearing only a sports bra. Quinton’s damage is on full display.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lincoln

  Anger coils through me, tightening around my veins, like a snake as I stare down at her.

  Cassidy’s eyes are glossy with humiliation and panic. She rubs them, an attempt to blur away the evidence, before looking around the room in panic. She quickly tries to grab the hoodie from the floor, but it’s out of her reach. In order to grab it, she’d have to get out of bed.

  I glare at her neck as if it were my worst enemy, silently begging for answers while processing what I’m seeing. The skin is bruised, a fusion of black and purple, and swear to God, I see a damn handprint pressed against the dark colors.

  “Cassidy,” I grit out. “What the hell happened?”

  “It’s nothing,” she rushes out, crossing her arms over her chest in an X motion.

  “Bullshit,” I snarl. “Someone put their goddamn hands on you. There’s a handprint around your throat.” I pull back to examine her further, my eyes hardening with every second. “Who did this to you?”

  She stays silent.

  “Cass, you’re scaring me here.”

  “Just stop, okay.” She swats at me, and taking the hint, I draw back, so I’m no longer above her. Pulling herself up, she wraps the blanket tightly around her, as if a shield to her secrets. “You know what? It’s late. You should probably go.”

  I flinch. “Whoa. How did we go from that to you kicking me out?”

  She uses her arm to cover her eyes, to cover her tears. “I can’t talk about it.”

  Reaching out, I gently pull her arm away from her face and use the pad of my thumb to brush away a tear. “Baby, if there’s anyone you can talk to, it’s me.” I fight for my voice to be soft and nurturing, but there’s no unclenching my jaw. I’m holding in my anger to comfort her.

  She shakes her head, sobbing. “It doesn’t matter.”<
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  “It does fucking matter,” I grind out, and I hate that a hint of my softness disappears to make way for anger. “Give me a name. Who hurt you?”

  She stares at the ceiling. “Some guy.”

  “Give me that guy’s information, so I can go rip his fucking head off.”

  “I can’t,” she cries out, shutting her eyes as pools of tears resurface. The floodgates finally break, and tears for days fall down her cheeks like a rainstorm. “Please, just drop it. I haven’t been sleeping. Please. Tonight, I don’t want to talk about it. All I want to do is get some rest.”

  “Okay,” I say gently, scooting in closer and staring down at her. “Have you been icing it?”

  She slowly nods.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No,” she chokes out. “I took ibuprofen a few hours ago.”

  “Do you need more?” I rush out. “Something to drink?”

  I have to push back my anger to care for her. It’s late, she’s exhausted, and right now, what she needs is sleep.

  She rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Really, all I want to do is lie down and sleep.”

  “Do you want me to go or stay?”

  “Stay,” she whispers, her body going stiff in alarm. “Please … please stay.”

  “All right.” I slide off the bed, stand, and pull my tee over my head.

  “And please hand me my hoodie.” Desperation covers her tone.

  “Cass, you were burning up in here. The secret is out. You’re already in pain. At least don’t make yourself sweat to death.”

  She nods.

  I kick off my pants but leave on my boxer briefs. After carefully climbing into bed, I stare over at her. “Light on or off?”

  She hesitates, and from the look in her eyes, I know she’s been sleeping with the light on. She’s been in fear of this happening again. She snuggles into my side, being careful not to hit the bruise.

  “I’d pull you into my arms, but I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper.

  She shifts closer. “Please. Being in your arms is what I need.”

  I drape my arm over her waist, my lips brushing along her ear. “Get some sleep. I’m right here. Always.”

  I want to wring a motherfucker’s neck.

  Wring his neck and then his hands, so he can never put them on a woman again.

  I don’t give two fucks if it ruins my life.

  Someone put his hands on the woman I’m falling in love with.

  He deserves to be ripped to shreds with mine.

  With my arm cradled around Cassidy’s waist, as if shielding her from any more harm, I shut my eyes. It’s a game I’ve been playing for hours now—since her breathing became steady and a slight snore slipped through her lips.

  I came over last night with the intent to lay out everything and explain Isla. As soon as I walked through the door and saw her dressed as if she were about to climb Mount Everest, I knew something was off. The thoughts of her wardrobe dissipated some when her lips hit mine … and then the shitshow started. Nothing mattered anymore—not Isla, not my problems, nothing—when I saw the bruise on her neck.

  My blood ran cold.

  And then hot with fury.

  Somehow, someway, I need to convince Cassidy to open up about what happened. It won’t be easy. The more time we spend together, the more I’m learning that Cassidy’s been keeping slices of her life from me. I’m falling for this woman whose secrets I need to know.

  My attention shoots to the floor when the hallway light flips on, the light shining through the bottom crack of the door meeting the carpet, and there’s movement on the other side. Footsteps, quiet and soft. I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Cassidy, and tiptoe out of the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind me.

  Grace is in the kitchen, a green turtleneck on, warming up a bagel in the toaster oven. She gasps, her hand pressing into her chest when she notices me. “Jesus, Lincoln. You scared me for a sec.”

  I smile gently. “Sorry about that.”

  She tips her head down the hall. “You two finally opened your eyes and realized you liked each other, huh?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Something like that.”

  “I’m happy for you two. I swear, just in the short time she’s been here, all she does is talk about you.” She turns to open the fridge and grabs the cream cheese before snagging a knife from a drawer.

  I pull out a barstool from underneath the island, take a seat, and clasp my hands together. “Have you noticed anything weird going on with her? Anyone coming over? Her being worried at night?”

  “No.” She shakes her head in hesitation as if checking she hadn’t missed anything. “Not that I can think of. We don’t see each other much since our schedules are the opposite. Why? Did something happen?”

  I rub my temples, debating on how to answer. Blasting Cassidy’s information would be an untrustworthy move, but Grace needs to know.

  What if the guy comes back?

  He could hurt her too.

  Grace stares at me in question, a bagel in one hand and knife in the other.

  “Nah, she just bailed on Georgia’s party and work last night.” I shrug. “Just worried me, is all.” After I talk to Cassidy, I’ll insist she tell Grace.

  “I’ll let you know if anything catches my attention.” She spreads cream cheese over her bagel before holding it up. “Want one?”

  “I’m good.” I have no appetite.

  “There’s plenty of food here if you get hungry.” She takes in the sight of me. “Although it appears you need sleep more than anything at the moment. Did you keep each other up that late?” A suggestive smile takes over her face. “I do have to say thank you for not being loud. Your brother and Georgia tended to make it known when they were … you know.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “Ah, forgot she’s your new roomie.”

  I chuckle. “I plan to get some shut-eye here in a bit. Just wanted to say hi.”

  “Make yourself at home in the meantime, okay?” She finishes off her bagel and then grabs her bag. “I’m off to teach children.”

  When Grace is out of sight, I tip my head down and rest my forehead against the granite countertop. The chill pressing against my skin is a relief to my impending headache. The girl I’m falling in love with is going through something. The last thing I want to do is create more stress, but whoever did that to her needs to suffer the consequences for it. She needs to go to the cops, file a report, get a restraining order. If I don’t find him and break his neck first.

  That should be enough of a consequence for him.

  Eh, maybe he needs a little castration too.

  I grind my jaw, just thinking about it again.

  Convincing Cassidy to turn him in will be one hell of a struggle.

  With a stressed sigh, I stand, fill up a glass of water, and chug it down. I refill it and carry it to Cassidy’s room for when she wakes.

  Sliding back into her bed should be perfect, the best damn moment in the world, but there’s that heavy secret looming over us now. I sink into her mattress, my body growing heavy, and finally shut my eyes, giving in to sleep.

  The bright sun shining through Cassidy’s window wakes me.

  That’ll be the only damn thing that’s bright this morning. I’m preparing for the worst. No way can I sit back and not question Cassidy about who hurt her. No way can I not demand she turn him in.

  She was petrified when her bruise was exposed, and it rotted me to the core that she’d been in pain for who knows how long. My guess is, since the day she skipped Georgia’s party.

  I’m unsure of how late we slept in, but rest was long overdue for us both.

  When I peer down, I find her awake and squinting up at me in question.

  “Good morning,” I whisper, my throat dry.

  She offers a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good.” She yawns. “Thanks to our spooning.
”

  How bad has she been sleeping lately?

  It appeared to have been days’ worth of exhaustion on her face last night.

  “Are you ready to talk about it?” I didn’t mean for the words to release from my tongue so early. I’d planned to ease my way in and get her to crack without throwing out pressure.

  “Nope.” There isn’t a moment of hesitation in her response.

  “Too bad.” I lift myself, causing her to do the same along with me. Scooting up the bed, we rest our backs against the headboard and stare ahead. “It needs to be talked about.”

  “I beg to differ.” She pulls the blanket up her body, making sure there’s no way for me to catch a glimpse of her bruising. “Subject change.”

  “Cass—”

  “Please.” Her voice breaks. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  She bows her head. “Thank you.”

  “Because you will.”

  Her body tenses, her shoulder stiff against mine. “No, I won’t.”

  My nostrils flare, and like last night, I’m struggling to constrain my anger. “What’s your plan then, huh? To just let this guy get away with hurting you?”

  Was it random?

  Did someone come here?

  How did this happen to her?

  “It was one time,” she mutters with no certainty in her voice.

  It’s a lie to not only me but also to herself.

  “Who did it?” That seems to be the question of the motherfucking year … that I’ll never get the answer to.

  “It. Doesn’t. Matter,” she grits out each word with a huff as if spitting out bad meat.

  “You need to go to the cops.”

  She snorts. “Please, no. This isn’t what I want to talk about first thing in the morning.”

  “If you wait too long, the bruising will fade, and you won’t have a case.” Shit like this needs to be reported fast. “What if he hurts someone else?”

  Cassidy might not care about protecting herself, but she has a big enough heart that she’d be concerned about the guy doing it to another woman.

  “I don’t want a case,” she snaps. “I want it to fade and to forget about it.”