I relax into the couch, sipping spiked hot chocolate while bonding with my new roommate, and wait for my man to get off work.
Lincoln: You awake?
My grin takes over nearly my entire face.
Call me desperate, but I’ve stayed up to see if he forgot about me.
Me: Awake and waiting for you to get here.
Lincoln: I’ll be on my way in 10.
Me: See you soon.
Jumping out of bed, I dart to the bathroom and inspect myself in the mirror. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I check my teeth before strolling into the living room. Grace went to bed a few hours ago, and I don’t want to wake her.
Lincoln texts when he’s outside, and I scurry to the door, unlocking it, then stepping to the side to allow him room to come in. A dark beanie covers his head, and a black coat is tight over his muscles.
He wastes no time before ducking his head down to press his lips against mine. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi.” I peek up at him, blinking, as an abrupt wave of shyness hits me.
“Let’s see this bedroom of yours.”
He tosses his overnight bag over his shoulder and interlaces our fingers, and I lead him to my new bedroom. The room is a decent size—larger than my old apartment and bedroom at the sorority house, but not as big as the one I had growing up. As the daughter of the town’s mayor, I lived somewhat of a privileged life.
After pushing my queen-size bed in, there wasn’t much room for more furniture. A simple white nightstand sits next to one side of the bed, and I have a standing mirror against a wall along with my desk.
Breaking away, I jerk my thumb toward his bag. “A little overeager there with the overnight bag, huh?”
He chuckles, slightly holding up the bag. “Eh, I figured you’d need assistance with testing out your new bedroom.”
“Fine.” I dramatically groan while fighting back a smile. “For testing purposes, I’ll allow it.”
To be honest, I’d have been disappointed had he not planned to spend the night since that’s what he’s done the past few nights.
I wonder where Georgia and Archer think he’s staying.
Do they even keep tabs on him like that?
Lincoln drops his bag onto the floor and does a once-over of the room. “This is cute, babe.”
“Thank you.” I shut the door behind us. “Hopefully, I can see yours soon.”
“You can come over anytime you want.” Wandering into the room, he takes a seat on the edge of my bed, over the white duvet cover. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and focuses on me. “Cass, you know I always want to be honest with you.”
I freeze, my pulse thrumming in uneasiness. “Good.” I clear my throat and lower my voice. “I want you to always be honest with me.”
Surely, he wouldn’t have packed an overnight bag if he planned to bail on me tonight?
Unless he just changed his mind at the last minute.
There’s a brief stillness, a lapse of time where he gathers his words. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I clasp my hands together, hold them to the front of my body, and for some reason, prepare for the worst. “Okay …”
“I’m a felon.”
The three words are a fist crushing my soul.
The memories of what happened with Quinton crawl through my thoughts.
No.
Just when I thought Lincoln was different, he tells me that.
“What did you do to … become a felon?” My last word is practically squeaked out.
“Aiding and abetting.”
“Aiding and abetting for what?”
“Money laundering.”
I’m quiet, digesting his words.
It all reminds me too much of Quinton.
Law breaking.
Secrets.
“You’re mad,” he says, his voice soft. “I get it. That’s why I tried to keep my distance.”
I inhale a steeling breath before answering, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Being a felon isn’t something I go around bragging about.”
“We’ve spent enough time together for you to tell me.”
A blend of irritation yet also understanding seeps through me. I get him keeping it from me when we were friends, but I opened up to him, so he should’ve done the same with me. I told him about my arrest and Quinton. That was a big step for me.
“That’s why I wanted to start tonight by talking to you about this. I don’t want any secrets between us, and from your reaction, I can see it’s a big deal for you. I’m a felon. I was in prison. And if you’re not comfortable with that, I understand.”
“Wow.” I slump down on the bed next to him and blow out a downward breath. “Prison.”
“Prison,” he repeats, mirroring my breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I technically didn’t commit the crime.”
I imagine most people would snort and roll their eyes at his declaration, his plea of innocence, but knowing the situation I was in, it’s believable. I once wanted to be heard, said the words that I didn’t commit the crime, and was mocked and ignored. I’d never do that before hearing someone out.
I swallow before speaking, “Okay.”
He turns to face me, our eyes locking, and his face is pained. “I know it’s stereotypical for criminals to say that, but hear me out.” He shakes out his hands. “My crime was not turning my father in for corruption. I was the VP of the company he was laundering money through, and I kept my mouth shut, so I was brought down with him.” He drapes his hand over mine. “You’re the first person I’ve really talked about this with.”
I battle with my internal emotions.
Back and forth.
Right and wrong.
Good guy or bad guy.
I’m not sure how much silence passes before he says, “Do you want me to go?”
Pulling away, he levels his palm on the bed to pull himself up, but I stop him.
“No, please don’t,” I whisper.
Prison was Lincoln’s past, not his future.
He’s done nothing to convince me otherwise. If he were doing shady shit, there’d be too many inconsistencies, people would be talking at the bar, and no way would Maliki and Sierra let me be around him.
Unlike Quinton, Lincoln is admitting to his wrongdoings.
Unlike Quinton, Lincoln took the fall, even when he hadn’t committed the crime.
He’s nothing like Quinton.
He’s the man I wanted Quinton to be.
“Stay.” I grab his hand and place it back over mine. “Always stay.”
The initial shock has dissipated, reality bleeding through in its place. No way will I lose him over something like this.
His tense shoulders slump, releasing pressure, and he kisses my forehead. “I’ll always stay … for as long as you’ll have me.”
And just like that, I know this is a man I can trust.
This is a loyal man who I can tell my secrets to and who will keep my secrets.
But what happens if I’m not ready to tell him all of mine yet?
What happens if he wants me to be as open with him as he was with me tonight?
I’m not sure that’s possible if I want to protect us.
Knowing how Lincoln is, if he finds out Quinton is messing with me, he’ll intervene. If he’s a felon, it’ll send him right back to prison. Lincoln isn’t getting in trouble over Quinton’s dumbass. I’ll handle his stalking on my own.
Chapter Fifteen
Lincoln
“Have fun at your dinner, babe,” I tell Cassidy as we walk to our cars. “And drive safe.”
With a smile, I do a quick scan of the employee parking lot, making sure the coast is clear since we’re still keeping our relationship a secret. I press my lips against hers and wrap my arms around her waist, somewhat pushing her against the car. My hips grind into hers while I release a groan. My heart speeds at the taste of her when my tongue slides into her mouth.
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I had the day off at the bar, but Cassidy worked the mid-shift, so I stopped for lunch and hung out with her.
She releases harsh breaths when I pull away. “I don’t want to be late.”
“Nope.” I smack a kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll be texting and calling,” she says, “so make sure you’re available at all times.”
“Aren’t I always available to you at all times?”
“Good point.” She stands on her tiptoes to present me with another kiss, wiggles her fingers into a wave, and gets into her car.
Puffing out cold air, I rush to mine, rubbing my hands together to create warmth. Neither one of us remembered to turn our auto-starts on, so our cars are freezing. Sitting in my running car, I wait for Cassidy to reverse out of her spot and leave. It’s what I do every time.
Last night, I spilled my truth to her, gave her every component of myself. I told her about my father acquiring the family business after my grandfather’s passing and how he’d started committing crimes. It was petty shit at first, but the more he got away with, the more he pushed his limits. Why? I’m still clueless. We had plenty of money, never needed for anything, but for some reason, my dad wanted more. I confessed all the feelings that’d rushed through my body when the feds showed up at my front door and how I’d wanted to jump out of the bathroom window the day I was sentenced to time in a federal penitentiary.
That night, on the drive to Cassidy’s, my nerves had been on fire, uncertain of how she’d feel about my admission, about my dark past. She wasn’t jumping for joy, but she handled it better than how most people would. She heard me out, was calm and rational, and in the end, she told me to make myself comfortable in her bed.
We didn’t have sex, didn’t hook up.
We lay in bed, talking about our pasts before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
That night, as I lay in her bed, it cemented that I’d done the right thing.
That I was falling for and opening up to the only person who understood me like I needed to be understood. I’m not sure what it is about her, but the scorned parts of our hearts seem to be fitting together perfectly like a puzzle.
A horn blares through the parking lot from her car, causing me to jump out of mine, and I rush over to her. Reaching her car, I find her sitting in the driver’s seat with her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. I knock on the window, and she slowly lifts her head as I gawk at her.
Opening the door, I drape my arm along the top of it and lean in toward her. “You honked?”
She smacks her palm against the steering wheel. “My car won’t start.”
I gesture for her to get out and take her spot. I tinker with the car, trying all the ideas I can come up with to get it to start, but nothing. It doesn’t help that she’s moving from foot to foot, shivering, while watching me try to fix something I know nothing about.
I’m a numbers guy who doesn’t know much about auto shit. A reminder to brush up on those skills because it doesn’t impress the girl you’re falling for if you don’t know shit about how to fix her car.
“If all else fails, you Google it,” I say. “Let me grab my phone and try to fix the issue. If we can’t, you can get it towed to a shop. There’s one right around the corner.”
She checks her watch as disappointment clouds her features. “Ugh, I’ll call a tow truck and ask Rex or Sierra to come get me.”
Tonight is one of her family dinners. If she calls one of her siblings, they’ll miss a portion of the dinner, having to drive here and then back.
I scratch my cheek. “If you need a ride, I’m not doing anything.”
“It’s over thirty minutes away.” She shakes her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I could use a good drive.”
I peer over at Cassidy after parking in her mother’s circular drive. “If you need a ride back, text me.”
“I can have someone drive me home.” She grips the door handle, slightly opening it, but stops, whipping around to face me. “Unless you want to come in and stay? I told them my car was on crack and a friend was giving me a ride. No one will mind.” She fidgets with her bracelet, as if she’s nervous I’ll say no … or that it’ll be weird because everything we are is so up in the air.
A friend.
For reasons unknown, my skin crawls at the term.
No, we’re more than friends.
She gave me so much shit all the times I said we were just friends, but now that we’re on the journey to change that, she’s holding back. Things get trickier when I notice Maliki’s black Camaro parked in front of us.
Does he know about Cassidy and me?
What he does know is my history, where I was months ago, and plenty of negative stories are circulating about me. Sure, he’s been cool with me at parties and the bar, but me possibly dating Cassidy is a different level of simple friendliness.
I have a record.
Automatically, that makes some assume I can’t be trusted.
Cassidy pouts her plump lower lip and steeples her hands in a begging motion. “Come on. Be my sidekick tonight, Robin.”
I chuckle.
Robin.
That term doesn’t make my skin crawl as much.
“Fine,” I theatrically groan as if she were asking me to cut a vein or some shit.
Cassidy grins. “You da best, Callahan.”
I cut my car’s engine and survey the two-story brick home. It’s the nicest in the neighborhood, but in my old life, it’d have been considered small.
My old world was full of superficial assholes.
“Is this where you lived, growing up?” I ask her.
She nods. “For as long as I can remember.”
We step out of the car and walk stride for stride into the house. A commotion erupts as soon as the door shuts behind us—talking and laughing. We take a quick right, leading us into the dining room with a massively long table lined with people down each side, drinks in front of them. In the middle sits a variety of food bowls and plates.
“Everyone,” Cassidy announces, “this is Lincoln. We work together, and since my car decided it was done being my friend, he was kind enough to give me a ride.”
We work together.
I gulp.
Is working together worse than saying we’re friends?
Hell yes, it is.
An older version of Cassidy and Sierra stands and immediately wraps Cassidy into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much, honey.”
“Mom,” Cassidy says, squeezing her, moving side to side, “you saw me the other day.”
“Yes, but I miss my kids every day.”
When they pull away, Cassidy runs her hand along my arm. “Lincoln, this is my mother, Nancy.”
From the stories I’ve been told and her appearance, Nancy is the opposite of my mother—your classic homemaker.
I suck in a startled breath when Nancy hugs me next, slapping my back a few times. “It’s so nice to meet you, and I appreciate you giving her a ride. Our family dinners mean so much to us.”
“Are you kidding me?” someone says when Nancy pulls away.
All attention shifts to a man at the table, sporting an officer uniform and a cold glare slapped straight in my direction.
Cop.
Criminal.
Bad combo.
“Cass,” he says, his voice harsher but his eyes not leaving me, “a word.”
“Nope,” Cassidy chirps as if the mood in the room hasn’t shifted into darker territory. “Whatever it is can wait until later.” A frown of dismay briefly crosses her face before she forces a smile while also shooting daggers at the guy.
She knows what he’s pissed about.
Everyone’s attention hops between the three of us, watching the show with curiosity.
“Cassidy,” he grinds out, slamming his napkin onto the table.
I open my mouth, prepared to tell him if he has an issue with me, to take it up with me, not Cassidy. le
ave if I’m not welcome. Cassidy shouldn’t have to fight that fight for me.
The blonde next to him smacks his arm and shoots him a glare stronger than the one Officer Jackass is giving me, but he pays no attention.
“Kyle,” Nancy warns, her tone stern but her voice light and sweet, “we are having dinner. You can talk to your sister later.”
Cassidy delivers a smug look at him.
From the conversations I’ve had with Cassidy, I’ve learned she’s close with her mother. She was the only child living at home when her father’s affair came to light. She was the largest shoulder and support system for Nancy. After hearing the stories, I imagined her family to be like a Jerry Springer drama, but all I’m getting is Brady Bunch vibes.
Except for Officer Pissed Off, of course.
“Everyone, have a seat.” Nancy throws her arm out toward the open chairs at the end of the table.
As I survey the table, I halt when my gaze meets Maliki’s. My throat constricts at the warning clouding his features. Just as I suspected, he’s suspicious of me hanging around with Cassidy. I’ve gained friendships with most of the guys in my brother’s circle, but since Maliki lives in a different town and owns his own bar, he doesn’t come around as frequently as the others. Meaning he hasn’t had as much time to realize I’m not a bad person.
Next to Maliki is Sierra, Cassidy’s older sister. Even though it hasn’t been brought up around her when I’ve been around, I wouldn’t doubt her knowing my story. But unlike her fiancé, her lips are curled into an inviting smile.
“Have a seat, guys,” Sierra says, pulling out the open chair next to her. “Mom made rib eye, roasted rosemary potatoes, and her famous sweet corn. I’m starving, and I will die if we don’t eat soon.”
My gaze darts up and down the table as everyone waits for us to take our seats. Cassidy squeezes into the seat next to Sierra. As I take the chair next to her, I quickly glance at the officer—Kyle. Chills speed down my spine, the dread of him interrogating me already causing my stomach to curl.
“I’m Rex,” the guy across from me says. “Sup, dude?”
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