“I hope this is the worst it hurts.”
“Ignore them. The only thing that matters is that we know the truth.” He touched my forehead with his. Such a simple gesture, but it made me feel safe. “Tell me you didn’t delete those messages?”
“No, I kept them. I was too busy running to the toilet to . . . well, you know what.”
He made a noise of dissatisfaction at the mention of me getting ill.
We stayed forehead to forehead for a while, just leaning on each other in the quiet.
“I needed you to teach me how to say a proper greeting,” he finally said.
“And you better not be giving it to anyone else.” Apparently I had a jealous streak I didn’t know about.
“I only see you.”
My heart twisted. “You can’t say stuff like that.” Because I wasn’t sure my heart could survive a sweet Lincoln Hollingsworth.
“I can, and I will for as long as I breathe.”
Chapter Thirty
Lincoln
I understood the urge to kill.
It was the follow-through I struggled with.
Because I wanted to kill Donnie Logan.
And I wasn’t sorry for the dangerous thought. A decent man would be. But he had crossed a line—hell, he’d crossed so many there was no point in them any longer.
When Lexie had fallen asleep, I’d gone to another bedroom and listened to the messages he’d left. Even the ones she hadn’t made it to. Zegas and Daniel needed to hear them too.
I had a niggling of guilt about violating her privacy. A lot more over that than I did for thinking of killing her father.
I was glad she’d stopped when she had. Because the messages had only gotten worse. He’d called her a bitch seventeen times.
Seventeen.
I wanted to stab him for every single utterance of the curse.
I wouldn’t think about the other choice words he’d spoken of her. If I did, my restraint not to follow through on murdering him might fail.
But he was going back to prison.
I would make sure of that if it was the last thing I did. Even if I ended up in a cell next to him.
Lexie deserved to be free of the bastard. His only saving grace was the two beautiful souls he’d brought into this world.
I’d have to be patient. Plans took time to unfold. And while I wanted him and his wife buried under the jail, I had to have faith it would happen soon. Daniel had the connections to see to that.
I wasn’t above bending the law, but it appeared he had the means to make it happen within the parameters.
I tapped my finger on my desk. Lexie had arranged our route so we could make it home for lunch. She insisted we start making use of the ingredients in the kitchen and I wasn’t about to start an argument over that.
It was her business. She should be able to plan their schedule any way she chose. And if that happened to include a stop at the apartment, I was simply the driver.
I examined my hands.
Who was I?
Not that long ago, I’d been more than willing to insert myself into her business plans. And I still was . . . if that was what she wanted.
There was a certain pride I took in watching her do it on her own. She’d returned the messages she’d been avoiding. We were taking a sample to one of the people this evening when they were available after work. She and Eric had been so excited, it was contagious.
They were growing their business one step at a time, and they hadn’t let setbacks keep them down.
“I should’ve asked permission to be in your room,” I said as Eric wandered into my study—no, his room—with the dogs trailing behind.
“You can come in whenever you want. I can paint while you work.”
He had a generosity of spirit that was inspiring.
“I appreciate that. But if you’d like me to move the desk to another room, I will.”
“No!” He bent to pet Millie. “I want it to stay just as it is.”
I was concerned about the bed situation. He couldn’t sleep on a sofa forever despite that he seemed quite content to do so.
“Then it will.”
He looked up at me. “Is something wrong with my sis?”
My heart leapt to my throat. “Not that I’m aware of,” I said carefully.
“She keeps rubbing her head. Like she has a big headache.”
I relaxed a fraction. Had she been doing that? I was a jerk for not noticing.
“She bumped her head the other day but hasn’t complained.” I stood, suddenly needing to examine her myself. “Shall we see if lunch is ready?”
“It’s not. I just came from the kitchen.” He got to his feet. “But we can go anyway.”
Eric’s footsteps and the click of dog paws on the floor echoed in the hall. It was still odd to hear any other noise beyond what I made. I no longer craved the quiet.
Lexie sat on one of the barstools with her head resting on the island. That panicked feeling I’d never grow used to crept to the surface.
I placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing it. “Lexie? Are you all right?”
She turned her cheek so I could see her face but kept her head down.
“I have a monster of a headache.”
I was surprised she admitted that in front of Eric . . . or me. She was tough and always put forth a brave face. Which meant it must be horrendous. I should call the doctor. Maybe he could see her this afternoon. No. It was Lexie’s decision. Not mine. If she needed to go, she would.
A timer dinged.
“Lunch is ready,” she said half-heartedly.
“I’ll call the physician.”
She caught my arm. “Make sure the paninis don’t burn. And I’m fine. I just need to lie down a minute.”
Who cared about the paninis?
“Do you need aspirin, sis?” Eric patted her shoulder.
“That would be great.” She sounded like a tired version of herself. An in-pain version. She lifted her head and slid off the stool. “Either eat my sandwich or save it for later.”
She disappeared, and I followed.
“Lincoln, turn off the panini press,” she said without looking back.
“The aspirin are more important.”
She turned as if to retrace her steps. “It can wait two seconds. I’ll turn it off myself.”
I caught her by the shoulders and spun her. “I’ll do it. Just rest.”
The sandwiches only had a slight char when I turned off the appliance and lifted the lid. I put them on a plate and set one on the island for Eric.
“Have some lunch. I’ll return in a moment.”
“Okay.”
My steps were quick as I moved to our bedroom. Lexie’s shoes were kicked off near the door and she was already huddled underneath the covers.
I rummaged in the cabinet for aspirin and dumped out two when I found them.
“Thank you.” She swallowed them chased by a sip of water. “Can you close the curtains, please? The light.” She pulled the comforter over her head again.
Was she having a migraine now?
I pressed a button near the bedside table and the hum of the electric curtains closing began. I sat on the edge of the bed.
“What can I do?”
“Just make sure the deliveries are made and Eric is taken care of.”