Chapter Thirty-six: Love Don’t Die

Chapter Thirty-six

Lincoln

LOVE DON'T DIE

Performed by The Fray

The happiness that drifted around the large wooden table I'd bought in hopes of having just these kinds of moments at it kept pushing light through Sienna's shimmering figure every time she appeared. I wasn't letting her in, which was frustrating her. But I wanted nothing more than to concentrate on the family sitting before me. It was different than the one I'd imagined, but it was all the more perfect because Willow was there, and it was her family. Just thinking about the times my family would be there too made the smile already on my face grow.

The doorbell rang, and I didn't pull my phone from my pocket to open the app and see who it was. I simply left the laughter and chatter of the kitchen to answer it.

The smile was still embedded on my face when I opened the door to find my mother glaring. She shoved her phone at me. "You haven't responded all day! I've heard nothing about the man who was chased down. Nothing about how you're handling all this!"

The bit of wild in her pale-blue eyes was the only proof of how upset she truly was. The rest of her seemed completely serene. Her cherry-wine hair was perfectly coifed without a hair out of place, and her forest-green suit was pressed straight on her tall frame. Behind her, two of her detail stood with blank faces, their sunglasses shielding their eyes, and suits stretching across wide shoulders. On the curb, two dark SUVs sat with more men inside them.

Mom brushed past me, still waving her phone. "I swear, Lincoln, if I have to ask the Secret Service to ping—"

A burst of laughter from the kitchen cut her off.

She turned wide eyes to me. I reached for her, pulled her to me, and hugged her tight. "Good to see you, Mom."

At first, the shock held her stiff before she hugged me back and then pushed away. "You have company?"

"Willow and her family are here."

Mom's face shuttered. "I see."

She started toward the kitchen, and I grabbed her elbow and held her back. "I love you."

She lifted a brow. We knew it—had said it to each other many times—she just hadn't expected those words to be my lead-in.

"But I'm telling you right now, if you go in there, thinking she's Sienna, thinking I'm with her because of it, and you upset her, I'm going to ask you to leave."

She stared at me for a long moment, assessing just how much I meant those words. Finally, she said, "You look tired."

"I always look tired."

"You've been through a lot. All over again. I don't like it."

"That wasn't her fault. We know now it was more mine than hers," I said, but the full measure of the guilt that normally surrounded me didn't follow me today. I was learning to let it go. To live. To be happy. To reach for the joy that existed here. And maybe that was why I'd blocked out Sienna every time she'd appeared since Ryan Jennings had shot at us. I wanted—no, needed—to let her go.

"This wasn't your fault either. It was Jennings's fault. Maybe even Felicity's, but not yours," Mom said quietly. We let that settle between us before she added, "Introduce me to the woman you love, Lincoln. Let me love her too."

Those words, her simple request, shot pleasure through me. Pleasure I was reaching out for with both hands. I wasn't sure what I'd do with it after so many years of not letting myself embrace it fully. So, I did the easiest thing, which was to lead her into the kitchen where our appearance in the archway brought silence among the people gathered there.

Willow and Erica had held a small party at the house as a way of celebrating their new life—our new life together. Hector and Shay, other workers from The Tea Spot, Detective Muloney and his family, and some of Erica's teacher friends had all been there. Willow and Erica hadn't told anyone but Hector and Shay about witness protection and their former lives, but it was still clear to everyone in attendance they were celebrating new beginnings.

The party had ended early, as everyone had work and school the next day, leaving just Hector, Erica, and Shay behind. Before the doorbell had rung, I'd been itching for our remaining guests to leave so I could be alone with Willow.

I wanted to dance with her in the moonlight and feel her body pressed against mine. I wanted to slowly remove her skirt and T-shirt and run my hands over all that smooth skin until it was puckered and flushed under my touch. I wanted to bask in the beauty she surrounded me in.

But now, with my mother having arrived, it would be even longer until the two of us were alone.

Everyone at the table scrambled from their seats as if "Hail to the Chief" had played. I made the introductions, and Mom shook hands and greeted everyone with her typical grace until she reached Willow. Instead of a handshake, she pulled Willow into a fierce hug. Willow's surprised reaction was much the same as mine had been when Erica had done the same thing to me the day we'd met.

Mom let her go, wiped at her eyes, and said, "It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

"We were just finishing up, but there's plenty of food left. Can I fix you a plate?" Willow asked.

"Thank you, but no. I'm still working off a fundraising luncheon."

For a moment, an uncomfortable quiet settled over the room as everyone assessed each other. It was Erica who spoke first. "Thank you for arranging to have Dr. Gellar come out next week. You don't know how much it means to us."

The two moms eyed each other, and I thought my mother probably had a pretty good clue what it meant. We'd lived through test after test when I'd been a kid as they'd tried to figure out why I couldn't sleep, and some of the potential diagnoses had been scary.

I was as grateful as Erica that the scientist had called and said she'd be coming out so soon. We'd have the results before the end of the month. Just knowing that seemed to have made Willow's spirit glow impossibly brighter.

Hector cleared his throat and turned to Erica, saying, "I think it's time Shay and I head home. I'll call you later."

"You don't have to leave on my account," my mom said.

He shook his head. "I've got an early rise tomorrow as I've given Willow the rest of the week off."

"What?" Willow's eyes took in Hector's face with a frown.

"I need your next food art piece. People are clamoring for it, and I don't like customers leaving my shop unfulfilled. Do your thing, come back on Sunday refreshed, and bring your desserts and art with you."

"Hector!" she protested.

He patted Willow's shoulder. "I need to do this for you. You need to do this for yourself."

He and Shay bid everyone goodbye, and Erica said, "I'll walk you out."

As they moved down the hall, I reached for Willow, bringing her to me and kissing her temple while my mother watched with curious eyes. "Let him do this for you, Sweetness."

She elbowed me. "Did you arrange this with him just so I wouldn't leave the house?"

I chuckled. "No, but I like the idea of you here, concocting your art while I'm upstairs creating mine." Now that I'd brought a large portion of my supplies home with me due to the construction, I wasn't sure I'd take any of it back. I loved the idea of being here while Willow and I both created our art.

"You're really painting that much?" Mom asked.

"Too many pieces, actually. But I'm nearing completion on a duet." The angel and the demon were almost finished. The cemetery scene with Willow at the center was close as well, but I was still hanging on to that one for some reason. Holding back. Waiting for a missing detail. It would come to me. It had something to do with the broken-winged angel. Something I hadn't quite put my finger on yet.

Mom pulled a chair out and sat. "I'm a little at a loss for words."

"You?" I winked at Mom. "Impossible."

"Smart aleck," Mom said with no heat, lips twitching.

I chuckled and drew Willow back to the table, and once we were sitting, I shifted so my knees tangled with hers, so I was touching her as much as I could.

My mother watched, looking from me to Willow again before saying, "I'm sorry I'm staring. It's just that you really do look so much like her."

"Mom," I warned.

She waved me off. "I don't mean to upset anyone, and I don't expect Willow to be her. I have twins, for heaven's sake. I know two people can look alike and be complete opposites. It's just a shock of sorts."

Willow tensed, and I took her hand, rubbing it. Trying to soothe her. Trying to reassure her I wasn't with her, didn't love her, because of Sienna.

"One of the things I've always adored about my son is the way he gives himself completely to the love that enters his life. It's always been fast and furious but so fully embraced," Mom said, and I made a strangled noise of protest she ignored. "Over the last year or so, I was worried he'd lost that ability. I'm happy to see he hasn't."

"Mrs. Matherton, I know it's ridiculous," Willow said, and my hand squeezed her hip. There would be retaliation for that word, and she knew it, but she just shot me a coy little smile before she turned back to my mother. "It seems impossible to me that in mere days—hours, really—I've gone from not knowing Lincoln to being unable to imagine my life without him."

"Please, call me Cordelia. And the truth is, I know how ridiculous it can feel. I fell in love with Guy over a weekend," my mother said, and I raised a brow. I'd heard the story many times, but it wasn't something she readily shared. The press had a version of it they'd gotten from old friends of the family, but whenever Mom was asked about it, she usually clamped her lips and said nothing.

"You did?" Willow's voice held surprise.

"He had so much charm I accused him of having inherited selkie powers from his Scottish ancestors, luring me in with a single glance. I'd never seen myself as married with kids. I certainly had no interest in being a politician's wife, and even in college, that was always Guy's goal."

"What did you want to do?" Willow asked.

"I wanted to be Madonna. Or maybe an actress. I was thinking of skipping out on the rest of college and heading to Hollywood. Then I fell in love, and my life changed."

Willow laughed. "I'm sorry. That's not funny. It's just…I can't imagine Madonna being our first lady."

"Well, here I am." Mom's lips curved upward, tossing her shoulder and hair like a pop star.

Willow giggled, her body relaxing, and mine did as well. I was amazed all over again at how right she felt there, not just at the table in the home I'd renovated, imagining family around it, but also with my mom. Before, it had simply been my parents and siblings in those hopeful fantasies I'd had about this house. Not once had I imagined my own wife and kids at the table, and yet now I saw the possibility of them around every corner of the Colonial. Little Willow mini-mes. Boys with wavy hair and blue eyes who started a ruckus. Maybe half a dozen of them. I supposed I needed to talk to Willow about it and see what she wanted, but I knew enough to wait until we had the results of her tests. She wouldn't even entertain the thought of children before then.

But I already knew what the results would be. Sienna had told me. I shot a glance at the sulky ghost in the corner before ignoring her again.

Erica came back into the room, looking a bit tousled, a smile curving her lips. She sat at the table, glancing between us as if testing the air, and when she found it relaxed, her shoulders eased as well. "I'd just been trying to convince my daughter to come out of her shell a bit more, and then she surprised the hell out of me by finding and falling for Lincoln."

My mom's face turned stoic and assessing. It was a defense mechanism. Years of people coming at us, thinking they could use us to get to Dad.

"I found her, truth be told," I grumbled.

"And I'm glad you did," Erica replied with a sparkle in her eye.

We chatted for almost an hour about nothing really. Little anecdotes exchanged by mothers about their children that attempted to embarrass one or both of us but just left me feeling loved. Then, when the dark had fully descended and the moon had risen the two women rose to leave, almost in unison.

While Willow stepped outside onto the sidewalk to say goodbye to her mom, mine held me back at the door. "Shannon and Henrik are going to want to meet her, and it's going to be harder on them than it was me."

I hadn't thought about it—hadn't had time to think about it—but she was right. Seeing Willow so closely resembling Sienna and being part of my life was likely going to hit Sienna's parents in the chest every time they were around us. I hated it would cause them pain, but there was no way I'd give up what I had with Willow in order to make them feel better.

"I'll call them tomorrow, see if I can set something up for all of us to get together, and hopefully prepare them," Mom offered.

"You don't have to do that," I said. "I can call them myself."

"It'll come better from me. I'd like to do it for you."

I said nothing as Willow came back up the path. Before I could reach for her and pull her into me, Mom intercepted her. She gave her another hug before leaning back to meet Willow's eyes. "Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, anything," Willow replied automatically.

Mom laughed. "Don't ever say that without knowing the favor. But in this case, perhaps you could encourage my son to carry his phone more? And maybe convince him to actually pick it up when his mother calls. This way, I don't have to ping his location and come stalking down here just to hear from him."

I shoved a hand in my pocket, narrowed my eyes, and repeated what I'd told Mom multiple times before. "I can't help it if the damn thing isn't attached to me like a third hand."

"I don't expect it to be, but I would like it if you looked at it once a day and responded." She kissed my cheek and stepped toward the two special agents who'd been waiting for her. Once she was ensconced in the SUV and both cars had pulled away from the curb, quiet filled the night behind her. The low hum of the crickets and the hoot of a faraway owl were the only sounds.

I closed the door behind us, locked it, and set the alarm.

"She's so down to earth," Willow said as she started toward the kitchen.

I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the stairs.

"I need to clean the mess," she said, half-heartedly resisting me.

"And it'll still be there tomorrow."

"But it'll be gross. It'll take me ten minutes."

I turned, picked her up, and slung her over my shoulder. She laughed, hitting my back playfully as I said, "Payback is a bitch, Sweetness. I think you used those off-limit words several times tonight, and at least one of those times, you did it on purpose. You knew what would happen."

I didn't bother turning on the lights as I set her down in my room, and yet I could still see the smile she was wearing—that same coy one from earlier that thrust heat into my veins.

"Maybe I like the punishment," she taunted.

Instead of ripping her clothes off, as part of me wanted to do, I went to the side table and turned on the music app on my phone. The song I chose was slow and sultry, and when I turned back to her, confusion had drifted over her face. She'd expected me to tear her clothes off too.

I pulled her into my embrace, moving so our bodies met the sensual rhythm filling the air. I placed a hand on her back, pushing her into me. My other hand fisted in her hair, tugging it back so I could see her face, the beautiful arch of her neck. My feet moved, my hips thrust, and my mouth lowered to that pale column, trailing hungry kisses up and down it.

She shivered.

I let the beat drive me. As I slid her top up and over her head, my motions were as unhurried and measured as the music. I twirled her out and spun her around so when she returned to me, her back landed to my front. My hands could continue the dance along her body, slipping down to her waist and the skirt that had haunted me all damn day. I tugged until it fell over those round hips and pooled at her feet. Only then did I lift her, guide her to the bed, and continue my slow pursuit of her pleasure.

Each lick and stroke and kiss matched the beat that filled the room. Every time she got close to peaking, I stopped, slowed down, and moved my hands away before starting the onslaught all over.

"Lincoln." The beg in her voice tempted me to give her what she wanted, but I loved seeing her like this too much. On the edge, writhing and arching. Giving herself to me. Knowing she was mine and only mine.

"Punishment, Sweetness."

She tugged my hair until I lifted my gaze to meet stormy eyes.

"It's ridiculous because you're punishing yourself too," she said breathlessly.

I growled, locking her wrists in one hand as my mouth nipped and sucked, and my other hand brought her closer to the pleasure she sought. She arched, a sweet little whimper escaping her, and all I could think was how beautiful she was. How I wanted to paint her this way, how I wanted—

Lincoln! The frightened, hurried voice came from behind me.

My body went rigid.

Willow felt it, her eyes opening to search mine.

For two seconds, I ignored the voice like I'd been ignoring her all day.

Lincoln, he's coming! He's coming!

I turned, finding Sienna's gaze, desperate and wild as she searched the room.

Hide! she shouted.

"Lincoln?" Willow's voice was confused, hazy from lust, calling me back.

"Who?" I demanded of Sienna.

The man. The man who wants to kill Willow!

Confusion and alarm slammed through me. The man was in the hospital, unconscious. He couldn't be here. And yet Sienna was terrified.

"Where is he?"

"Lincoln, who are you talking to? What's going on?" Willow asked just as Sienna said, He's inside. He killed the man at the back door. He shut off all the power. Your alarm was cut.

Rage stormed through me, accompanied by a wash of fear. Who the hell had come for her? For us? And even then, the trepidation struck, knowing who it was. Knowing that the evil bastard had finally come for her.

I rolled off the bed, throwing Willow's clothes at her.

"Get dressed," I hissed quietly.

"Lincoln! What's going on?" Willow demanded.

"Quiet! Stay quiet." Where could I hide her? Where wouldn't he find her? I turned to Sienna. "Where is he?"

Kitchen , she said.

I dragged Willow into the hall, stepping around the board that creaked, but Willow hit it, and I winced as the noise echoed down the stairs. As quietly as I could, I opened the door to the guest room and the pile of Katerina's boxes. I pushed Willow behind them.

"Stay here. Stay down," I said.

"You're scaring me. What is it?" she demanded. "Who are you talking to?"

"We don't have time for this. Someone's here. In the house. Promise me you'll stay here." My unsteady gaze met her frightened one.

"Not if you're heading into danger. I won't let you face it alone."

My lungs squeezed tight. The idea of Willow being hurt was too much for me. "Please. Do this for me so I don't see another woman I love injured…killed." My throat closed with emotions. "Just stay. We don't have time to argue."

I left her, hoping to all the gods she stayed right where I'd placed her amidst a sea of boxes. At the door, I looked back, only mildly reassured that she was momentarily safe.

The music I'd turned on using the rechargeable speaker in my room turned from a sensual beat into the crescendo of an opera, leaking into the hall where Sienna paced. She glanced over the banister.

He's searching downstairs. He has a gun.

I went to the room closest to the stairs where I'd set up the studio the day before. I grabbed a can of turpentine—it would slow him down if I tossed it in his eyes—and then sought out my grandfather's switchblade that I'd been opening boxes with.

Back at the open door, I heard the bottom step creak.

My fury grew. He'd killed one of the men I'd hired. He dared to come after Willow. I didn't care who he was or why he'd decided to come after her now, but this would end. This would be over.

I quietly unscrewed the cap on the turpentine.

A shadow reached the top of the stairs. He edged along a wall, and even in the dark, I could see the gun he held. Black. Evil. I couldn't make out his face. He blended in with the shadows, but as he eased along the wall, opposite the doorway, I sprang, tossing the turpentine just as he turned at the sound.

A hiss escaped him, and he scrubbed at his eyes, but he didn't let go of the gun. Instead, he squeezed the trigger. Nothing but an innocuous puff filled the air—a silencer keeping it quiet. I barely had time to realize the bullet had gone wide before he was aiming it again. I charged, shoving the arm holding the gun up, and another bullet hit the ceiling, causing plaster to rain down over us.

I punched him in the face, but it released my hold on his arm with the gun, and he clocked me in the temple with the butt. Stars burst along my vision. I staggered back, swung wildly with the switchblade, and felt it catch on his hand, slicing through the cloth and skin. He grunted in pain, surprising us both when he dropped the weapon. I was mid-swing again when he kicked out, landing a foot in my stomach with enough force that it sent me whirling into the wall with a crash.

He lurched for the gun, picking it up and twirling to aim it in my direction.

Sienna was screaming. Words I couldn't concentrate on because I had one chance to fix this. To end it. If he killed me, he'd find Willow, and I couldn't allow that to happen.

With a snarl of fury and rage, I ducked my head and rushed him.

The gun went off. I felt the burn as the bullet sliced into my arm, but my feet continued to propel me forward. Just as I was about to ram into him with my good shoulder, I saw Willow had emerged from the bedroom right behind him. Her face was determined and scared, and she had nothing but a goddamn lamp in her hand to defend herself.

I didn't have time to check the trajectory of my feet, and the force I slammed into him with shoved us both into Willow, sending all three of us tumbling to the floor.