When the phone stops ringing, I stand with my mug in my hand and walk back into the house, making sure the door is locked behind me before grabbing my pistol off the dining room table and stomping back to Mom’s bedroom. Theo and I avoided her room when we started going through her things and it wasn’t until the note showed up that I ventured in here but since then, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the safe room.
I open the closet door, revealing the tiny space she used to store her clothes. Pushing them to the side, I go to the back wall and press on the hidden control panel. With a little pressure, it pops right out and as soon as I enter the code, the door swings open, revealing a long L-shaped room. There’s TVs along one wall and I flip them on, watching as the video feed from the cameras fills the screens. When I was a wild, crazy teenager, I hated that Mom had cameras all over the house and could see what I was doing all the time but now I understand it. This room is where I’ve felt safest since that note showed up. Something that comforts and annoys me to no end.
The doorbell rings and I jerk out of my thoughts, glancing up at the screen that shows the front door. Lincoln rocks back and forth, his hands shoved in his pockets and I sigh, wondering if he’s here to bitch me out about tasing him. Honestly, I’m surprised it took him this long. A heavy sigh slips past my lips and I set my coffee down on the desk, grabbing the pistol and tucking it into the waistband of my jeans.
Might as well hurry up and get this over with.
Stepping out of the closet, I close the outer door but leave the hidden door open for a quick escape. Not that I think Lincoln will truly hurt me but it makes me feel better to have multiple plans in place when everything feels so off balance. When I get to the living room, his gaze locks with mine through the glass on the front door and I suck in a breath, those damn butterflies taking flight in my belly again.
“What do you want?” I yell.
“Open the door, please.”
I arch a brow, slowly approaching the door. “You mad?”
“For tasing me? Yeah, I’m a little fucking mad, Tate.”
Rolling my eyes, I unlock the door and open it, propping my hand on my hip. “You deserved it.”
“Are you kidding me? Have you ever been tased? That shit hurts. How did I deserve that?”
“Uh, well, first of all, yes I have been tased. And you deserved it because you’re playing fucking games with me. Stupid move on your part, really.”
He growls and I narrow my eyes into a glare.
“I’m not playing games.”
Like I’m going to buy that.
“What do you want, Lincoln?”
He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck as he clear his throat. “I want to talk to you.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” I ask. I think after Friday night, everything is pretty fucking clear.
“Can I just come in, please?”
I shake my head. “Naw, you’re good there.”
“Goddamn it, Tate!” he roars and my eyes widen as I watch him start pacing in front of the door, my hand twitching to grab the gun behind my back. “Why does everything have to be so damn difficult with you?”
“It doesn’t… as long as you do what I want.”
His gaze snaps to mine and he balls his fists up before turning away and slowly blowing out a breath.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Releasing the door, I cross my arms over my chest. “I think that ship has sailed.”
“Don’t say that.”
“We can’t go back to being just friends,” I tell him and he nods, turning back to me. The two of us being friends was a terrible idea from the start with how attracted we are to each other. It was always doomed to end the way it did.
“I know.”
I scowl. “So what are you saying?”
Whiskey eyes meet mine and I suck in a breath at the heat raging in his gaze. He takes a step toward me and I love and hate how weak he makes me feel.
“I want more.”
“No, you don’t. You said yourself that you’re not a relationship guy.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he whispers, closing the space between us and reaching up to cup my cheek. My eyes flutter closed and I lean into his touch, completely at his mercy. “Shit happened and my life fell apart. I haven’t been in a relationship in six years and I had no intention of ever being in one again but you make me want to try, Tate. You make me hope for things I thought I had no business hoping for anymore.”
“Oh,” I whisper, opening my eyes and meeting his gaze.
“Yeah, oh.”
My teeth sink into my lip. “So, more then? A real relationship?”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
“I swear to God,” I murmur, tears burning my eyes as I shake my head. “If you’re playing me again, I will kill you.”
He chuckles, nodding. “I know you will, Sweetheart.”
Leaning in, his lips hover above mine and I lose my train of thought for a second before I press on his chest and he pulls back, scowling at me.
“If we’re going to do this, we need to lay all our cards on the table.”
He studies me for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
“Come on in, then,” I whisper, my hands shaking with nerves. There are still things about me and my past that Lincoln doesn’t know and I honestly have no idea how he’ll take them. He steps into the house and I scan the street as I shut the door and lock it again.
“You want some coffee?” I ask, turning to face him and he nods.
“That sounds good… you know how I like it.”
I am reminded of the first day we met in the diner and I smirk as I brush past him. “I’m gonna dump it on your lap if you’re not careful.”
“Eh, I don’t think you will,” he calls after me and I laugh.
“And here I thought you knew me better than that already.”
Peeking over my shoulder, I catch his shudder just as the phone starts to ring and I sigh. I brace my hands on the counter and close my eyes, counting to ten in my head as I feel Lincoln step up behind me.
“You gonna get that?” he murmurs and I shake my head, snapping up and grabbing a mug off the open shelving by the sink.
“Nope.”
The machine picks up as I pour his coffee and heavy breathing fills the room.
“What the fuck is that?” he growls, marching over to the machine and reaching out to grab the phone.
“Don’t!”
He glances up at me, his face set in a glare. “What the hell is going on, Tate?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a prank call or something. They’ve been coming all morning.”
His eyes widen before he walks back over to me and crosses his big arms over his chest. “That doesn’t sound like a prank call.”
“Okay, so it may be… my boss from the gas station.”
His jaw ticks. “And why would he be calling you like that?”
“Because I quit?” I suggest and his eyes narrow. “After, I pulled a knife on him.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Any particular reason that you pulled a knife on him?”