Chapter Thirty-two: You Better Believe

Chapter Thirty-two

Willow

YOU BETTER BELIEVE

Performed by Train

While I was in the kitchen working on miniature lemon meringues I planned to top with gold leaf, our camera app went off at the same time the doorbell rang. My pulse skittered happily, wildly even, because I knew immediately who it was. The security team wouldn't let a threat close enough to ring the bell, and I'd known Lincoln would eventually show up. We'd spent an intense weekend together, and our bubble may have burst, but the pull toward one another hadn't gone anywhere.

Mom looked up from her laptop, saw my hands full, and rose to answer it.

Lincoln had barely stepped inside, had barely said hello, before she was hugging him.

She whispered something quietly, and butterflies winged around in my chest at the sight of them together. His eyes met mine over the distance. He winked and the fluttering inside me turned into a frenzied delight.

"You promised not to embarrass me," I called out.

Mom let Lincoln go and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Earhart."

"It's Erica, please."

Mom led him to the kitchen, and the look in his eyes as he got closer caused every part of my body, soul, and mind to light up. Happiness. Love. Desire. We'd been apart mere hours, but it felt like it had been a lifetime. I literally ached to be near him again. I wanted to keep him. To keep this. The pain of not knowing if I could, regardless of Mom's insistence we weren't leaving, was harsh and sharp.

But when he didn't stop at the counter, coming right to me and kissing my temple while Mom watched us like a hawk, it took the pain and doubts and sent them sailing.

"I missed you," he said. And with those three little words, I fell in love all over again.

My smile was ridiculously large as I replied, "I missed you, too."

"My heart just exploded," Mom said. "Have you had dinner, Lincoln?"

"No. After the food Willow made this weekend, I was greedy for more of hers."

Mom chuckled. "It's a good thing my blood pressure is steady, otherwise you'd have me swooning. You'll join us then?"

"I'd be honored."

The pleasure inside my chest grew even more until it was almost buzzing around me. Lincoln was responsible for bringing it back. He thought he was all dark shadows and torment, but he had his own light that shone brightly when he let it.

"I made baked manicotti," I said. "It has a few more minutes,"

"With a sauce from scratch instead of a jar," Lincoln teased.

I was happy to play along. "As if. No other kind of sauce exists."

He swiped a finger into my meringue, sticking it in his mouth, eyes closing as he savored it. My insides ignited at the simple, seductive move.

"Don't put your fingers in my dessert!" I scolded, but my words were missing the heat required to be a true reprimand.

"Take a seat, Lincoln," Mom interrupted, patting the stool next to her. "I've never had the chance to interrogate a boyfriend of Willow's before."

His smile disappeared, which I hated, but he moved around to sit beside her.

"I'm pretty sure you know more about me than I know about myself," he said with a casual shrug.

"You mean how you like to party?" she asked. Even though she'd put on her serious face, I knew her well enough to know she wasn't truly upset by this fact, but Lincoln didn't.

"My love of dancing has often been misconstrued as a love of partying," he said. "And even those days of losing myself in a rhythm on a dance floor seem to be trailing behind me."

"I see. I was sort of hoping you'd shove my girl out in the world. Make her behave a bit more like a twenty-three-year-old instead of a forty-three-year-old."

"Mom!"

"Dancing and wild parties it is then," he said with a chuckle.

But we all knew it wasn't going to happen. Not only because that wasn't who I was or who Lincoln was but because of the threat hovering around us.

"Kiddo, do me a favor. Go get my wooden music box from my room and bring it to me."

My eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I want something out of it and because I need a moment with your beau."

"Mom."

"Willow."

We locked eyes, and in them I saw her determination, but also a little plea, and so I gave in. I wiped my hands, rounded the corner and fist bumped her shoulder. "Be nice or I'll never forgive you."

She just laughed.

In her bedroom, I went straight to the dresser where the music box always sat, only to find it wasn't there. Frustrated, it took me several minutes before I discovered it tucked in her bedside table. I'd just stepped back into the hall when her words to Lincoln had my feet skidding to a stop.

"The Marshals can't find Aaron." She said it matter-of-factly, but I recognized the fear in her tone that matched the same fear in me.

Lincoln's response was a singular, feral snap, "What?"

"Someone looking like him was playing the part. They think he's been gone for days and that he might have skipped off to some non-extradition country."

"I got confirmation that Poco is the one who sold the photographs to the press, but it's unlikely he sent the notes." I could hear the self-recrimination in his voice, and it was confusing. This wasn't on him.

I didn't want him to see this as something he'd failed at. Something else to blame himself for. Maybe I should let the Marshals take me away. Mom could stay here. Aaron didn't care about her, he just hated me. But would he hurt her, thinking he could use her to find me? Would he hurt Lincoln? Hector? The thought of leaving any of them ripped me apart all over again.

Any decision I made left me feeling like a coward.

"The Marshals have given us forty-eight hours to decide whether to relocate or leave their protection," Mom told him.

I couldn't see them. Couldn't see their faces, but I knew what would be on Lincoln's. Anger. Determination. That love we hadn't said.

"I swear to you, Erica, no one is going to hurt her. No one. I'll protect her with every ounce of muscle and intelligence I have. I'll spend every last dime at my disposal to hire the best people to keep her safe." It was a fierce and protective vow I loved as much as I loved him.

Mom let out a shaky exhale I could hear all the way into the hall. "I'm glad to hear that's how you feel. But if we walk away from the Marshals, that's permanent for us. We won't be able to go back."

She was asking him for things she didn't have a right to ask. Things Lincoln and I hadn't even discussed and seemed ridiculous considering the limited time we'd known each other, and yet couldn't be denied.

His sincere response of, "You won't have to. I'll always have someone there watching over you," finally forced my feet to move.

I stepped between them at the barstools, setting the box down in front of my mother and nailing her with an irritated frown.

"Mom, stop." I turned from her to Lincoln. "Whatever decision we make isn't on you. It will never be on you. If we decide to walk away from witness protection, the responsibility for that is on us."

His eyes narrowed, and his arms snaked out to wrap around my waist.

"I can almost hear you screaming how ridiculous this is in that beautiful head of yours," he raised a brow that promised payment, but he was serious as he said, "I meant it when I told you I wasn't going anywhere. That promise I just made your mom, it's only the truth. Whether you steal my heart and walk out of my life or not, I will always make sure you're safe."

"Lincoln—"

"Besides, there's a chance this may have nothing to do with you. This actually may be about me."

I shook my head, and he stopped it by pulling me to his side so he could look at both my mother and me as he said, "The notes and the damage to the café could have been someone Felicity Bradshaw hired."

"The actress?" Mom asked incredulously.

"I don't know if you heard, but I had to get a restraining order against her. She hired someone to follow me, break into my computers and phones. I'd thought things with her had finally calmed down. But the wording of the notes, the fact that they came after Willow once she'd been seen with me…"

I hated to even think it was true. I didn't want Lincoln to carry one more burden. If something happened to me, and he thought it was his fault, it would destroy him.

I grabbed his hand. "How could she have found out about us so quickly? We've barely been seen together."

"If she had someone following me again. Remember the gray sedan? The guy I ran into downtown?" His throat bobbed. "If it's her, I promise you, she'll wish she'd never heard of me or you by the time I'm done with her."

"Even if it is her, this still isn't on you."

Mom reached around me to squeeze Lincoln's arm. "Listen to me, Lincoln. You're not responsible for her obsession any more than we're responsible for the Viceroys' hate. If we take on that responsibility, we give them power over us. This easily could be Aaron Vitale wanting revenge. Not only for his brother dying, but because his entire world is crumbling due to the RICO case. All we can do is be as safe as possible. We can protect ourselves, but what I won't allow is for Willow, or anyone in a relationship with her, to take on that hatred and evil as if they could have controlled it and failed. From what I've heard, from what I can tell, you're a good man. I know my daughter is a good human. Let that goodness surround you and not their darkness."

The oven timer went off, and I moved away from them with reluctance to pull the manicotti from the oven. The smell of basil and tomatoes filled the air along with melted mozzarella. The toasting of the cheese was flawless, the mix of colors making a vibrant picture. It would have brought more pleasure if the heaviness in the air wasn't so strong.

I set it on the stove to rest and turned to the rosemary bread I'd baked, slicing it while Mom pulled the strawberry-walnut salad I'd tossed earlier from the refrigerator. Lincoln asked what he could do to help and when we both told him to just take a seat at the table, he did.

Wine glasses were filled, plates loaded, and we'd all sat down when the reality slammed into me. Mom and I weren't alone. We had a guest. My guest. A man I loved .

My heart kicked fiercely, spinning and soaring and sending the heaviness of our discussion skyward.

This. I wanted to keep this. The pleasure of having the people I cared most about seated around a table with me. The only thing that would be better is if Hector and Shay were there too.

New determination filled me. I'd have that. I'd have it all.

I might not know how yet, but I would keep this life and this beautiful man.

They were mine, and I refused to let Aaron or Poco or even Felicity send them from me.

While we ate, Mom and Lincoln chatted amiably, sharing the ins and outs of their lives in a way that sent more thrills through me. I wanted them to know and love each other as much as I loved them.

Mom talked about the kids winning at State, and he talked about the gallery and his dad's election. By the time we'd cleared our plates, it felt like we'd been doing this for months if not years.

"I've never had better manicotti," Lincoln said. "I see what you meant about the garlic. I didn't miss it at all."

"Don't get her started," Mom said, lips twitching. "We'll be hearing about how America brutalizes authentic cuisine for hours."

I rolled my eyes, but Lincoln just said. "I'd be happy to listen to Willow talk for hours."

"Wow," Mom said, fanning herself with her hand as a full smile took over her face. "You really are too much." She pushed away from the table, carrying her empty plate to the sink. "I'm going over to Hector's. When I talked to him earlier, I told him I'd be by after dinner."

My eyes locked with Mom's. They hadn't really been able to talk earlier because he'd been busy at the café. While I hoped their conversation didn't end in a broken heart for her and joblessness for me, I also had to believe that Hector saw the truth of us past all the lies.

I got up and gave her a hug, and told her the same thing she'd told me earlier. "It's going to be okay."

She hugged me back. "You're right. It is. I can feel it."

She opened the music box on the counter and pulled two envelopes out.

"After Willow's dad was diagnosed with FFI, and he knew he wasn't going to live long, he decided to write letters I could give her at the important moments in her life." Mom's voice choked. "He'd intended to write a whole cart full of them, but these are the only two he'd finished before he was killed."

My eyes filled automatically as much from the flash of grief in Mom's expression as her words. She'd never even hinted I had letters from Dad waiting for me.

She hesitated and then handed the first envelope to Lincoln rather than me. My eyes widened, watching the envelope with longing as Lincoln took it solemnly. Then, she turned and handed me one as well. "Don't read yours until after Lincoln reads his." She kissed my temple. "I'll leave the two of you to show each other some of that goodness I was talking about while I go get some of my own."

"Mom!"

She chuckled again. "I love that blush, kiddo. Love it and love Lincoln simply because he gave it to you." She winked at him and then walked over to the door to grab her keys and purse. "I'm sure one of the Marshals will be following me, but the private security should stay here."

"There's more than enough to go around," Lincoln insisted.

"Thank you for protecting my girl."

"It's an honor to do so."

"Yes it is, but I'm glad you agree." Mom's reply was quick, her face happy. "You might just do after all. Regardless of your big life and your big family. You might just do."

She didn't give him a chance to respond. She went out into the night, and silence fell behind her. Lincoln stroked my heated cheeks with gentle fingers, sending delicious waves of desire swirling through me.

But not even the unrelenting need for him could distract me from the letter sitting in my hands from my dad. All I wanted to do was tear it open and read it. To get a piece of my father back, but Mom had said to let Lincoln read his first, so I waited. Anxious. Giddy. Desperate.

As if understanding my feelings without us saying a word, Lincoln tore his open and read. His face was serious, thoughtful but not upset. When he was done, he folded it up and put it away.

I gasped. "You're not going to let me see it?" Disappointment leached into every syllable.

He met my shocked eyes with tender ones. "I'd give you just about anything you asked for Willow but not that. He asked me not to. He asked me to keep it between us, and I think you'd rather I keep that promise to him than give it to you."

I wasn't sure if it was true. I was greedy for more words from my dad. I hadn't heard anything from him in six years. Longer, if I considered how little he'd said to me that last year. And when he had spoken, the words had often been twisted by the FFI into things he never would have said.

Lincoln leaned in, wrapped an arm around me, and nudged my shoulder with his chin. "Open yours."

So I did with hands that shook.

My darling Wendy,

I'm hoping you'll have read a few of my notes by now. Your college acceptance, graduations, your first real job, and many more. But I want you to know these two letters, the one for you and the one for the person you chose to give your heart to, were the first ones I wrote. Because finding and keeping love is the most important thing about living. Out of all the wishes I've had for you, this was the most important one—that you love and be loved in return.

Don't ask your guy to disclose what I wrote to him. Allow me to have this private conversation with him just as I would have if I'd been there in person. A father has things he wants to tell his daughter's partner, so please trust that I gave him words of wisdom as well as gratitude for accepting your love and giving you his.

Now, let me give you some of the same.

Your mother and I may have named you Wendy because of our shared love of Peter Pan, but I want you to know, as your father, I don't want to see you with a Peter or a Hook. None of the men in that story are good enough for you. What I hope for you is that you'll find a Robin Hood. Someone who is willing to sacrifice everything for his Maid Marion. Who puts life and soul on the line to claim his place at your side. A man who thinks of others more than he thinks of himself.

If that isn't who's with you right now, drop him like a hot potato, kiddo, and go find someone who is all of those things. Because that's what you deserve. Nothing less.

But if I know you at all, you'll have found your Robin Hood because your light and your joy, along with your compassion and kindness, will have drawn him to you.

I don't doubt that darkness will do what it always does and try to cast shadows on you from time to time. In life, you will always find Prince Johns and Sheriff of Nottinghams and just damn fate trying to take greedily what isn't theirs, trying to break you and your spirit. But you have the strength in you to best those assholes, kiddo. You are courageous and brave, and while I don't want you to have to face any of them on your own, you can and you will.

And if, by chance, you get stuck in the dark of night for a few moments, remember that being lost in the moonlight isn't so bad. It's never pitch black. The moon and the stars both give off a bit of light. And if you're lucky to have someone solid and good at your side, it'll be easier to find those bright spots together. I hope the person you've given your heart to is that person for you. The one you can count on like I've always counted on your mom.

From the day you were born, you've always made me proud. But from here, when I can't be at your side, I want you to know that the best gift you could ever give me, the best way to continue to make me proud, is by enjoying your life to its fullest. Chase every dream, appreciate every smile, hold tight to every delightful moment, and love with every piece of your soul. If you do that, you'll have made me the happiest parent in this world and beyond.

Remember I am with you always,

Dad

I couldn't stop the mix of sad and happy tears that escaped. I missed him so much I thought it might drown me, but I was also thrilled I'd received these few extra words from him. I wanted to make him proud by doing just what he asked. Living. Loving. How did I do that when the shadows were so close these days? So much evil and darkness around every corner. The stars were hard to see, weren't they? The moonlight was hidden beyond a thick fog layer as well as the normal black of night.

Then, I looked at Lincoln, shining in his own way after his repeated traumas, willing to extend a hand and help those he loved and cared about, and I knew Dad was right. If you had someone at your side, you could find those little sparks of light together. I'd found my Robin Hood even if Lincoln only saw himself as a vampire sucking me into his dark vortex.

Before I even had a chance to say a word, Lincoln pulled me from my chair onto his lap, placed his mouth on mine, and offered me his soul. Solace bled from his touch but also hope. The sweet comfort only lasted a few seconds before the hunger, the soul-deep craving erupted over us once more.

Mouths and hands began searching, flaming, taunting. I lost myself in the pleasure of it, tumbling headfirst into the heady sensations of love and want and need, feeling him fall with me. His palms slid under my shirt, and the skin-on-skin sensation was all it took to have me gasping and trembling.

When he broke our kiss, a little whimper of a protest escaped me. His lips traveled over my jaw and along my neck, nipping and tasting. A moan immediately followed my whimper, and he smiled against my collarbone, sending joy rippling through me with such strength it pushed at the darkness and the sadness that remained.

I dragged myself away, and it was his turn to protest with a deep growl. I held out my hand, and when he took it, I led him down the hall.

"Your mother going to be okay if dawn breaks and I'm here?" he asked.

"I'm not even sure she'll make it home herself after that little speech she gave."

"Still. There's no one at my place. A much bigger bed than that full size in your room. An entire house to lose ourselves in." He nipped at my ear and whispered, "Remember the table. The way I made you—"

I cut him off with my lips on his before breaking away to say, "Fine. Take me home, Lincoln. Let me grab a bag, and then you can take me home."

His eyes lit up, happiness practically dripping from them. "I like you using that word."

"What word?"

"Home."

The wild flutters in my chest returned. I hadn't even realized I'd used it. But I felt it. The cottage was where Mom and I lived. It had been a cage of sorts. One with love and caring inside it, but I'd been bound here not only by the Marshals' rules but by my own limitations. Lincoln's house… I could choose to be there. I could let love and hope fill me there.

I kissed Lincoln fiercely again, seeking his warmth. His beauty. His strength. We were both panting as he practically carried me to my room. "Sweetness, I need you to pack up whatever you were planning before I change my mind and use that tiny bed to show you how little space I need to make your body scream."

I'd never expected to have this. To have some gorgeous man saying these tender, steamy things to me. The fear of what was coming after us and the unknown of the FFI tried to push its way in, but I forced it out. Shut the door on it. Locked it. This was worth it. This time finding the stars and moonlight amongst the dark, reveling in these feelings, watching the smile spread across his face instead of the grumpy glower, was all worth it. I'd try to do what my dad had asked by living and loving in every moment I had with Lincoln.

I pulled a duffel bag from my closet and stuffed a pair of pajamas I wasn't sure I'd use and a change of clothes inside before going across the hall and shoving some toiletries in it as well. When I came out, Lincoln was waiting. He took the bag from me, twined his fingers in mine, and then led me home.