by Meghan March
“I got you, Blue.”
For the space of two heartbeats, I can’t make myself struggle free. Just hearing my nickname on his lips again brings back more memories than I can handle. I forgot what it’s like to be this close to him. The kiss earlier wasn’t enough.
The kiss that happened after I gave his mother a heart attack.
I stumble out of his arms, the shower curtain wrapped around me. “What are you doing here?” It comes out as a demand.
“Where else would I go?”
“To your family. Your mother. Is she . . .” I brace for the answer, expecting the worst.
“She’s fine. Panic attack.”
I release a pent-up breath. “Thank God.”
“I’m more worried about you right now.”
I stare into Lincoln’s eyes, trying to decide if this is just another game and what his angle is. “I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me.”
He nods, and I try to think of all the things I’ve waited years to say to him. I try to picture all the ways I’ve imagined this moment, just like I imagined coming back to Gable in high style and making everyone regret how they mistreated me and my family. But my mind goes blank because all I can think about is how good it felt to have someone stronger than me catch me when I fall.
How pathetic is that?
Tears burn the back of my eyes, and it’s a losing battle. I can’t stop them from falling.
I tuck my chin to my chest and let them fall. But my silent tears don’t escape his notice.
“It guts me to see you cry.”
“Then leave.” I sniffle as I give the order.
“That’s not gonna happen. Not this time.”
33
Lincoln
I step closer. When Whitney doesn’t bolt, I wipe her tears away, just like I’ve done before, but everything is different this time. I fucking swear it will be.
As my thumb sweeps along her cheekbone, Whitney flinches. I tuck her hair behind her ear and look closer. The greenish purple is unmistakably a fading bruise. Instantly, rage grips me.
“Who the fuck hit you?”
Whitney jerks her head back, letting her hair fall forward to cover it again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Everything about you matters to me. I don’t think you get that.”
Whitney looks up, her eyes still shiny from the tears. “Is that your new game? Make me feel like I’m worth something to you now?” She looks away, and I hate that she thinks it’s a ploy.
“You’ve always been worth your weight in gold, Whitney.” I say her name because I know it’ll get her attention. “Now, tell me who hit you.”
Her chin juts out, and I recognize the stubbornness I remember.
“It’s been taken care of.”
“If he’s not six feet under, he hasn’t been taken care of. No man hits a woman. Give me a name.”
“I handled it. I’m a big girl now. I take care of my business. I don’t need you or your money. You still can’t buy me, Lincoln.”
I remember the last time she told me that, and it hits hard. “You’re right. Because you were fucking priceless then, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
Whitney looks away, and I hope it’s because she doesn’t want me to see how the truth affects her.
“I’m not having this conversation. Not now. Not ever. We can’t go back. We can’t change the past. It’s time to move on.” She charges for the futon, but the shower curtain is stuck under my foot, and stays stuck.
The pink material shreds, and Whitney’s mouth drops open. She wraps her arms around herself and rushes toward her towel, but not before I see every curve of her body.
Fucking Christ.
Whitney Gable is even more devastating now than she was ten years ago. Rounder hips. Fuller tits. Every single inch is perfection.
The dumbest thing I ever did was give her a reason to walk away from me and marry Ricky Rango.
I may not be able to change the past, but I can sure as hell make sure it doesn’t repeat itself.
34
Whitney
The past
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Everyone’s staring.” I whispered the words, sure Lincoln could barely hear me over the gasps coming from around us.
“Ignore them. Act like they don’t exist.”
That was easy for him to say. Lincoln had probably never felt out of place in his life. He walked into Table like he owned it.
Oh, wait, he did. Or at least, his family did. It was the fanciest restaurant in town and located in The Gables.
I must have been insane to say yes.
I tugged my best dress down further to cover more of my thighs. I hadn’t realized it was a little shorter than the last time I wore it—to my senior prom that Ricky had come home for and stayed two hours before he left.
I hadn’t told Lincoln yet, but Ricky kept calling and texting. He even sent me a freaking handwritten letter with a love song he wrote. But Ricky’s a half-assed songwriter at his best, and I couldn’t stop myself from fixing the chorus, bridge, and two and a half of the three verses before sending it back to him.
He’d probably record it and make a boatload of money. Just like he did of the single that was currently on the radio. A single that no one knew I wrote the lyrics.
A waiter in a black suit and white shirt arrived at our table. “What can I get for you this evening, sir?”
Lincoln rattled off the name of a wine I’d never heard of, which wasn’t surprising because I only drank the kind of wine that came in bottles with twist-off caps and tasted like fruit punch. The man gave him a nod and walked away.
“The steak is great. The fish is fresh. You really can’t go wrong with any of it.”
My entire body vibrated with the urge to bolt. “I don’t belong here. We should be at Cocko Taco or Sub Shack.”
My fingers trembled as I reached for my glass of water, and Lincoln clasped my hand before I could reach it.
“You’re better than that.”
And that was where he was wrong. I wasn’t better than that. There was nothing wrong with those places. They just weren’t expensive and fancy, part of a world where I’d never be comfortable.
But I couldn’t tell Lincoln that. Especially not right here, right now. From the corner of my eye, I could see a woman wearing more diamonds around her neck than I’d ever seen in my life. Her face was twisted into an expression that looked like she smelled something rotten.
Before I could think of anything to say, the man returned with the bottle of wine. He and Lincoln went through some fancy sniffing-and-tasting song and dance that seemed absolutely ridiculous.
When the man poured a measure into my glass, I stared at it like it was a foreign object. “I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks.”
He gave me a silent nod and left us again.
“I don’t know anything about wine,” I blurted.
“And you think I care about things like that?”
“I’m going to embarrass you.” I looked at all the silverware lined up around my plate. “I don’t know what half of these are for. I’m used to one knife, fork, and spoon. I can’t—” Before I could finish, another man stepped up to the table, and I shut my mouth so quickly that my teeth clacked together.
“Mr. Riscoff, it’s a pleasure to have you dine with us this evening, sir. The kitchen has been informed of your arrival, and all your favorite off-menu dishes are being prepped in case you would like one.” He looked at me. “And welcome to you, Ms. . . .”
“Gable. Whitney Gable.” When Lincoln gave him my name, it seemed like the entire restaurant hushed as he said it, and now my name echoed throughout the giant gilded room.
If everyone in the restaurant weren’t watching us before, they sure as hell were now.
The man’s dark eyebrows darted up toward his receding hairline and he cleared his throat. “Welcome, Ms. Gable. I hope Table’s cuisine is acceptable to you this evening.�
��
“I’m sure it’ll be like a dream,” I said, reaching for my wine.
Apparently, the dream was a terrible one, because I missed and knocked the glass over. As red wine stained the snowy white tablecloth, I jumped out of my seat.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I dabbed at it with my napkin, cringing.
“Blue. Stop. It’s okay. They’ll get us a new one. Just sit down.”
Lincoln’s smile looked genuine, but my cheeks burned with embarrassment. This was an absolute disaster.
“I need to use the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”
I rushed away from the table without looking for the facilities. Instead, I headed straight for the entrance.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” I repeated it to myself over and over as I walked blindly into the hotel, my only goal to find somewhere to hide.
When I spotted a row of alcoves that looked like they were for people to make private phone calls, I ducked inside one. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I took several deep breaths, trying not to cry as I rocked back and forth on my cheap heels. I couldn’t even look at Lincoln’s face before I ran away. I was sure he was regretting his decision to bring me here tonight.
Why, of all places, would he think this was a good idea for the first time we went out together in public? What about starting small?
Then again, it probably didn’t occur to him to go anywhere but the best place in town. He was probably trying to impress me. Little did he realize, I would have been happier with a picnic in the maze where no one would bother us and we wouldn’t have to worry about prying eyes and whispered words.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
A man’s sharp voice interrupted my thoughts, and for a moment I thought he was talking to me. I glanced around the corner and saw him grab a woman’s arm.
To my horror, it wasn’t just any man or any woman. It was Roosevelt and Sylvia Riscoff, Lincoln’s parents.
Mrs. Riscoff attempted to tug free of her husband’s grip. “To stop this insanity! Our son is at Table with that Gable whore, and I will not stand for it.”
“And how are you going to handle it? By causing a public scene? Come with me.”
I turned my head and let my hair hang over my face as he pulled her into the alcove beside mine.
Can this night get any worse? As soon as the question popped into my mind, I knew the answer was most definitely yes.
“I refuse to let him humiliate us like that.”
“If you think confronting him with her is going to do anything but push him further away from the path you want him to take, you’re crazy, Sylvia.”
“But—”
“He’s young. He’s pissed that my father called him home from being out in the world and fucking everything that moves. Now he’s stuck in Gable for the rest of his life. Don’t you realize this is his way of rebelling? He might be a man, but he’s a Riscoff. He doesn’t like taking orders. Stop treating him like a child and let him have his fling.”
“And what if he’s serious about this girl? What if it’s more?”
Roosevelt choked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it for me.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The boy isn’t stupid. She’s forbidden. A conquest. This fascination of his will burn itself out before you know it—unless you keep causing scenes that make him want to hold on tighter. Let the boy have his little whore for now. He’ll get it out of his system and be ready to settle down.”
“If he gets her pregnant—”
“It’ll be taken care of. Commodore would never let that happen. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. If Lincoln insists on challenging his decision, my father will make it clear that Lincoln’s status as heir apparent, after me, will disappear. He’ll fall into line. If you leave him alone.”
I could practically feel the hatred pouring off Mrs. Riscoff when she spoke next.
“And in the meantime, you just want me to let him humiliate us? Drag the family name through the dirt by flaunting that Gable girl?”
Roosevelt’s voice turned droll. “Don’t worry. He’ll learn to hide it better as he gets older.”
Mrs. Riscoff’s sharp inhale preceded a slap, and her heels clicked off even faster than they’d arrived.
I was trying not to throw up in this little alcove and wondering where the nearest exit was when Lincoln’s father’s footsteps clipped on the marble floor—and stopped right in front of me.
“Did you hear all that, girl?”
I looked up and froze. Roosevelt stared directly at me with a smirk on his face that had none of the charm of Lincoln’s. Any response I might be able to come up with was stuck behind the lump in my throat.
“Don’t get any notions of reaching above your station. It’s never worked for any of the women in your family, and it won’t work for you.” He tilted his head to the side. “But at least my son has good taste.”
His gaze raked over my body, stopping on my bare legs, and I felt filthy.
“Staff entrance is around back. Tell one of the drivers I gave orders to take you home. If you walk back into that restaurant tonight, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
With a smug smile, he walked off, and I was left reeling.
One thing I knew for sure. I wasn’t going back in.
35
Whitney
“You just left me there. Alone. Waiting for you to come back. For half a fucking hour. If you were worried about people talking about us before, you picked an even better way to make sure they had juicier gossip to talk about.”
My lips stayed locked together as I listened to Lincoln lecture me as he paced the cabin. I had no idea why I even came. I’d been planning on telling him everything I overheard and about the threat his dad made, but something stopped me.
Maybe Lincoln really was just with me as a rebellion. If he knew his parents were letting him “get me out of his system,” it would make him even more stubborn about staying with me. And that’s not real. I didn’t want to get caught up in a Riscoff family power struggle where I had no business being.
“You shouldn’t have taken me there to begin with. I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but it didn’t work.”
“I was trying to prove that I care about you, and I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”
I nodded, holding back tears. “Are you sure? Because it felt like you were trying to rub it in your family’s face that you don’t give a damn what they think.”
He turned toward me. “So what if I am? Isn’t that what you want me to do? Pick you over them?”
“No! I don’t want any part in your family’s battles. I don’t want to wonder if you only want me because I’m the girl you’re not supposed to have.” I spun around and headed for the door, but Lincoln gripped my hand before I could touch the handle.
“I wanted you from the very first fucking second I saw you. I didn’t know your name. Didn’t give a damn who you were. I still don’t. That’s what I’m trying to show you.” His breath brushed my ear, and my entire body heated instantly. “Just let me show you, Blue.”
His tone was so soft and tempting, I melted against his chest.
“I don’t know how to do this. It’s too much,” I whispered.
He turned me around in his arms and buried his hand in my hair. “Then fuck everything else and just be with me tonight. I need you.”
He pressed the bulge in his pants against me, and I knew it was pointless to pretend I didn’t need him too.
Just one last time.
“I need you more.”
36
Whitney
Present day
Lincoln’s gaze leaves trails of heat down my back as I go snatch up my towel. I know I look different than I did at twenty-one, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
My biggest concern? How easily my body responds to his presence. The fact that my nipples are hard has nothing to do with the cool air in the shed, and everything to do with the fact t
hat he was the best I’ve ever had—which isn’t something I’ll ever admit.
I wrap the scratchy towel around me before spinning to face him.
Except he’s not where I left him. He’s right here. Only a foot away. He moved so silently, I didn’t have any warning.
And the intensity blazing in those hazel eyes is the kind that has haunted me for a decade.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I swallow, tugging the towel tighter. “You should go.”
“Not before we—”
I have no idea what was going to come out of his mouth because Karma’s voice interrupts.
“Wow. Didn’t know you were going for a blast-from-the-past fuck, cuz.”
“Karma—”
“What? If you’re okay with being a Riscoff’s whore after everything that happened, you should be able to handle the talk about it. This should be fun.”
“Call her a whore again and I’ll make you regret it.” Lincoln’s threat slices out like a whip, and Karma’s lips pinch together.
“You Riscoffs think you’re so high-and-mighty—”
“Go away, Karma. Whatever you want, I’ll deal with you later.”
She turns her venom on me once more. “My mom’s home. I just wanted to let you know she’s unemployed. Good job, Whit. Way to come home and fuck everything up.”
Karma salutes and backs out of the shed, leaving Lincoln and me staring after her light brown hair flopping over her shoulder.
Aunt Jackie lost her job? Oh God. I have to fix this.
“Your cousin’s a bitch,” Lincoln says as the door snaps shut.
With a shake of my head, I sink onto the futon, devastated at what I’ve wrought.
“I thought your sister wouldn’t fire her over this.” I shake my head as I try to wrap my brain around what happened today. “I never should’ve come home. It was a mistake. I need to leave before I ruin anything else.”