He sucks in a breath and his gaze drops to my mouth for a second before he leans in and plants his lips on mine. I’m frozen for a moment and then a big, strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into his lap. All bets are off. His hand slips into my hair as he flicks his tongue against the seam of my lips and nothing else in my life has ever felt this…right. In this moment, I don’t care that he’s the wrong guy for me and I don’t care about the promise I made to myself all those years ago because I’m lost in him.
“Lincoln,” I whisper, rocking my hips over the growing bulge in his jeans and he groans, gripping me tighter. At the firm touch of his hand, I sigh and my lips part in invitation as I grab the back of his neck. A large hand presses against the bare skin on my back and my body arches into his, aching with a need unlike any I’ve ever felt before. Pulling back, I look down into his eyes and I know that I’m not going to stop this. Not tonight, despite any consequences I’ll face in the morning.
Or maybe, just maybe… we could be more.
“Fuck,” he growls, shutting his eyes as he pushes me away from him. “You should leave.”
Before I can say anything, he picks me up, deposits me back on the bench, and stomps up to the house. As the screen door slams shut, tears burn my eyes and I hate him for doing to me what I always knew he would.
No, he doesn’t get to have this power over me.
He doesn’t deserve my tears.
My hands tremble and anger racks my body as I stand up, swinging my leg over the bench before marching over to the other table and ripping my bag off it. Pain throbs in my chest and I suck in a stuttered breath as I turn toward the car and practically sprint to it before throwing myself behind the wheel. The fall is coming. I can feel it building inside me and the crash is going to be spectacular. God, I was so stupid. From the start, I knew better than to get involved with Lincoln but with my mother’s death, I leaned on him and I didn’t even realize that I’d begun to need him. I always knew better and yet, I still went there.
The first tear slips down my face and I grit my teeth as I start the car and slam it into reverse, flipping around way faster than I should before flying back down the way I came in, pounding my fist on the steering wheel. So, so stupid. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to not turn this car around and taze Lincoln just on principle. I was vulnerable with him in a way that I never am with any one else and he rejected me as soon as I was ready to give him everything. It burns more than I care to admit. Not to mention, I’m truly alone now. The only friend I had who understood the emotions that rock through me on a daily basis just walked away from me.
On second thought… renewed anger surges through me and I slam on the brakes before flipping around on the narrow gravel road. As I ease my foot off the brake, I reach into my purse and grab my Taser, flipping it on so it has time to power up. Fuck this asshole for thinking he can play me after I let him in. I don’t do that shit with anyone and I fucking trusted him. When I get to the house, I put the car in park and jump out with the Taser in my hand. My heart pounds in my ears and my knuckles hurt from balling my hand up as I stomp up onto the porch and pound on the door.
It flies open and he looks surprised for a moment before he scowls. “I’m sorry, Tate. I can’t do this…”
I press the end of the Taser to his beefy arm and hold it there as his body seizes and drops to the floor like a goddamn rock, still twitching.
“Fuck you, motherfucker,” I snarl before spinning on my heel and marching back down the stairs to the car and climbing inside. He’s struggling to get up as I flip the Taser off and put the car in reverse again, flying out of the driveway. Serves him fucking right. Don’t play games with a girl that knows endless ways to cause you pain.
As I drive closer to the city, my mind drifts back to the kiss and fresh tears well up in my eyes, irritating the hell out of me. I’m not a crier. I don’t do shit like this but here I am, bawling like a baby because a damn guy rejected me. But, then again, I’ve never experienced a kiss like that either. It was damn near poetic and I can’t stop myself from wondering what it means.
“Don’t fucking go there,” I growl to myself, glancing in the rearview mirror and wincing at my red, puffy eyes.
I spend the rest of the drive to my house focusing on not thinking of anything and it’s harder than I imagined it would be. For some reason, my brain wants to torture my heart tonight and the look on Lincoln’s face just before he leaned forward and destroyed everything between us keeps popping into my mind.
Pulling into the driveway, I slam the car in park and grab my purse and bag out of the passenger seat before climbing out and trudging up the front walk. When I reach the front door, I fumble with my keys for a moment before noticing the note taped to the door with my name scrawled on the front. Scowling, I rip it off and unfold it.
LAUNCELOT
Yes, look, it’s true that children are punished for the sins of their fathers. That’s why I’m worried about you. I’ve always been straightforward with you, so now I’m telling you what I think. Cheer up, because I think you’re going to hell. There’s only one hope for you, and even that’s a kind of illegitimate hope.
JESSICA
What hope is that, may I ask?
LAUNCELOT
You can hope your father isn’t your real father. Maybe your mother fooled around, and you aren’t the King’s daughter.
JESSICA
That really is an illegitimate hope. Then I’d be punished for the sins of my mother.
LAUNCELOT
In that case I’m afraid you’re damned by both your father and your mother. When you avoid one trap, you fall into another. You’re in trouble either way.
It’s in modern text but I recognize the scene from The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare that my high school drama program put on when I was a junior. The only other change is when it says, “King’s Daughter”. The original line was “Jew’s Daughter”. My scowl deepens as I study the note but there’s nothing that stands out about it, nothing special. The hair on my arms raises and I glance over my shoulder as I slip the key into the lock, eager to escape from the feeling of someone’s eyes on me. As I twist the deadbolt, unlocking the door, a car door slams and my hand is in my purse before I know it, gripping the knife tightly.
Mrs. Saunders across the street waves to me when I turn and I force a smile to my face, still on edge, and my mind racing with the possibilities of what this note means. And in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think it’s one more thing to add to the growing list of questions my mother left behind in her wake.
Chapter Ten
Tatum
Sighing, I watch the customer walk out of the gas station with his soda before plopping down on the little stool tucked away behind the counter and cross my arms over my chest. I spent the whole weekend analyzing that note, trying to figure out what it really means and its implications for me but I’m as lost as I’ve been since the moment my mother died. And I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched now. I searched the surveillance cameras set up around the house but whoever taped the note to my door was as average as they come and he kept his face covered.