Chapter Thirty-eight –Changing Tides

Chapter Thirty-eight

Lincoln

CHANGING TIDES

Performed by The Fray

I knew the moment I came awake it had been drugs that had pulled me under rather than anything natural. I'd been on the receiving end of drug-induced sleep too many times in my life, and I hated it. It took me a few seconds longer to register the pain in my right arm and the smell of antiseptic that flooded my senses along with the steady beeping rhythm of the heart rate monitor.

A weight laying on me had me dragging my eyes open to find Willow asleep with her head on my chest and her lips slightly parted in sleep. She'd squeezed herself into the hospital bed along my left side. At least I hadn't been shot in my drawing arm.

I raised my good hand and stroked her soft, moonlight-colored hair.

She stirred immediately, leaning up on an elbow as she said, "You're awake!" She scanned my face, running a hand along the scruff on my jaw. "Thank God."

"I told you I wasn't dying," I grunted. My voice was hoarse and scratchy.

She rolled out of the bed, and I tried to grab her hand to stop her, but pain shot through me. I must have let out a sound, because she whirled back around, eyes wide. "You're hurting. I'll get a nurse."

"Water," I rasped.

She pulled a tray over with a pitcher on it, poured water into a plastic cup with a straw, and brought it to me. I sipped at it, feeling like a five-year-old instead of a grown-ass man, which made me snap at her. "I don't need you feeding me."

Instead of being hurt or angry, it made her lips curve upward. "If you're growling at me, I really know you're going to be okay."

She put the cup down, leaned in, and kissed me softly. When she went to move away, I put my good hand on the back of her head and held her there, deepening the kiss. I let relief and love wash over me. She was alive. I was alive. Aaron was dead.

I'd killed a man.

I didn't feel an ounce of sorrow for having done it. I'd do it again to keep her safe. Do it again to keep any of the people I loved safe—but especially her. Still, the weight of it wasn't something I took lightly. Scales would be balanced at the end of our time on this earth, and this would be something I owed.

When I tried to tug her closer, pain ripped through me again, and my grunt made her pull away.

"Let me get the nurse. You need more pain meds."

"Don't need anything except you."

When she grinned, it made the pain all but disappear.

"Your parents are here. Down the hall. I told them I'd get them when you woke."

"I figured they'd be lurking around somewhere."

Her face turned serious, and she squeezed my hand. "It was Sienna."

When I met her gaze, it wasn't freaked out or judgmental or concerned. Instead, it was somber and almost serene. Still, a force of habit had me clamping my jaw tight and saying nothing. It was Willow who continued. "I saw her too."

My brows raised.

"Not at first. At first, I was confused because I didn't know who you were talking to and why you were freaking out. But then, when you were fighting with Aaron, she came into the guest room and told me you needed help."

"I used to think she was a hallucination brought on by the drugs they gave me for the insomnia. Then, I thought it was my guilty conscience imagining her. I thought we both needed closure. When her parents gave me her trust fund to open the gallery, I thought it was what we both needed to move on. And when she disappeared, I was sure of it. But she came back last week, and I didn't know why."

"She said she came when she was needed—or rather, that she was sent when she was needed. She hung around after we got to the hospital, making sure you were okay. She told me to make sure I didn't take you for granted like she had."

I shook my head. "She never took me for granted."

Willow shrugged. "Those were her words, not mine."

I didn't want to talk about Sienna. She was my past. This stunning, brave, quiet woman in front of me was my future. A future we'd almost lost. My chest tightened, and I squeezed her hand. "You were supposed to stay hidden."

"This won't work if we aren't on equal footing, Lincoln. We protect each other. We face everything together. That's how my parents faced life. From what I've seen, I think it's how your parents face theirs. We won't last if you treat me like a fragile thing needing your protection, and I want that forever you promised. I want it so badly I can taste it, can't you?"

"It tastes like you. Like browned butter and sugar."

"Funny, I think it tastes like you. A little bit bitter and quite a bit demanding."

"Smart-ass."

"I love you," she said, and my heart lunged so hard the monitor burst into a chaotic rhythm. She smiled at the sound before turning that beaming light on me. "Get better so I can take you home."

"You're moving in with me," I told her.

She huffed out a laugh. "Is that equal footing? You issuing commands?"

"Can't be equal if we're not under the same roof," I told her. "And I want to get married."

She sat beside me and ran a finger over my brow. "Some proposal that is."

For a second, I felt bad for having let it slip out like that, but then I just shrugged. "I'll give you romance once they get this ridiculous sling off me."

"Hmmm. Does this mean I get to punish you for using that word?"

"We'll punish each other." I tugged on her arm, making her wobble, and she landed back on my chest. Sharp agony arrowed through me, but I didn't care. I kissed her fiercely with determination and promises in every slide of our mouths.

She drew back, the soft, beautiful smile I adored filling her face.

"I'm serious, Willow. I want to get married—tomorrow, if I can make it happen. I want to start forever right now."

"Fast and furious." She shook her head and let out a little laugh. "I think we should probably wait until you can stand. Maybe get rid of the bandages."

"Is that a yes?"

"You didn't really ask, but yes, I'll marry you."

More relief washed over me. Together. Forever. I could do that. I would do that.

? ? ?

They kept me for two damn days in the hospital. My parents hovered, the media tried to sneak in, and the authorities came and went with multiple questions. But by the time I got home, by the time Axel was going inside to clear the house ahead of us, Willow had moved her things from her mother's cottage into mine, which made coming back a true homecoming for me.

The bodyguard who'd picked us up from the hospital with Axel drove the SUV right up to the back door in order to avoid the media that had flooded Cherry Bay. Axel stepped out of the house and said, "You're clear. We've got men out front and out back, but the press has mostly stayed at the end of the street. They've been respectful, even when your parents were staying here."

Willow started toward the door, and the hands we had tangled together tugged at her as I held my ground. She looked back at me, puzzled. I gave her fingers a little squeeze, saying, "Go on in, Sweetness. I want to talk to Axel for a moment."

She darted worried eyes between us but then did as I'd asked.

Silence settled for a moment while I watched Axel's man standing near the garage, scanning the surroundings behind mirrored sunglasses. Another man had stood there just days ago and lost his life in the dead of the night.

"Your man…the one who died…I'd like to do something for the family."

"We've taken care of them," Axel said, lips tight.

"I imagine you have, but for my own sake, I need to do something too. One of the news articles mentioned he had kids, right?" When Axel nodded, I said, "I'd like to start a fund for them. They can use it for college or trade school or to start a business—whatever they need for their future."

Axel's throat bobbed. "That's generous of you."

"He lost his life protecting mine. Protecting Willow."

"You protected yourselves better than we did," Axel grunted, and I saw the remorse I was so familiar with echoed in his eyes.

"I don't know who it was that first said it, but if someone really wants to kill you, they'll find a way, right? Hate and evil keep coming until it wins or is stopped. You stopped Jennings. I stopped Aaron. I think we can call it a draw."

I couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I felt them on me, weighing what I'd said, weighing me.

"I'll send you his family's details." He ran a hand over his shorn head. "Just so you know, Jennings died. Never regained consciousness, but we believe he got the gun from Aaron."

"What? How?"

"In Jennings's journals, he wrote about a man approaching him who wanted the same thing he wanted—you and Willow dead. The man gave him the gun, and from the way Jennings described him, it had to be Aaron."

"How did Aaron find us?"

"Poco."

I cussed under my breath, and Axel continued, "After his brother died, Aaron posted a wanted ad on the dark web for Willow. Poco saw it and had cashed in on it even before he sent the photos of the two of you to The Exhibitor ."

"You arresting him?"

"No one can find him. Whatever he was shoveling in the graveyard must have had him digging his own grave with Paul," Axel replied. Knowing eyes met mine as we both remembered Paul and his men taking Poco into the back room. Maybe it was another scale I'd have to balance at the end of my time on this earth, but it felt fitting to know he'd suffered.

Axel stepped away and said, "If you need anything, anything at all, you call me."

He gave a chin nod to his man at the garage and then strode toward the street and the half dozen black SUVs waiting there.

When I walked into the kitchen, it smelled like sugar and spice and everything nice. It smelled like Willow. A pink box sat on the counter, lid opened, and when I glanced inside, I saw she'd finished another piece of food art. Stunning golden foliage littered the surface of a garden path with a starry sky over the top of it.

"You finished your Gustav Klimt?" I asked.

"More like art inspired by him. I found the print online, and it spoke to me more than his actual work."

"The gold is stunning combined with the blue. It's beautiful, Willow." I closed my eyes and let the smells run through me. Berries. Butter. Vanilla. "It's decadent. Too pretty for anyone to eat."

She waved at more pink boxes stacked behind her on the counter. "I have the individual desserts over there."

I eased toward her, wrapped my good arm around her waist, and drew her into me. "You've been busy."

"I couldn't sleep, even after you sent me away each night."

"I know how to fix that."

"Do you?" she asked, eyes twinkling with humor and a flare of heat that my body responded to automatically.

"Beds are good for two things. Sleeping and sex. I think we'll do both."

I twined my good hand with hers, tugging her toward the stairs just as my phone rang. My mother's tone. I felt around in my pockets and came up empty. I turned to look down at Willow in surprise as I heard her answering it.

She talked with Mom for a second, letting her know we'd just walked in the door and that I'd call her back. Then, she shoved the phone into the pocket of The Tea Spot sweatshirt she was wearing.

"You're answering my phone."

She looked chagrined. "Someone needs to be in charge of it. She's been worried, and she's right—you're really bad about picking up."

"I answered every time you called or texted." Her cheeks turned that delightful shade of pink I so adored. "Bedroom, Sweetness. Right now."

I took off for the stairs at a jog, hauling her with me.

"Lincoln. Slow down. You're still healing."

"Hasn't anyone told you? Sex is the best medicine. Heals all things."

She laughed, but as soon as the bedroom door shut behind us, she was helping me remove my clothes and the stupid-ass sling. I sat on the bed and watched as she shed her layers. The weak sunlight coming through the closed blinds turned her into a hazy mirage, just like a Klimt or Seurat painting, and yet incomparably more stunning because she was real. Because she was Willow.

She moved to stand between my legs, beaming at me happily.

And in that moment, I knew what the painting of her in the cemetery was missing.

The Willow in the painting needed wings. She was a broken angel, growing back her wings and carrying a sword. A golden sword to avenge the wrongs of the world. The wings would sparkle. The sword would be full of gems. And the entirety of her would shimmer in the moonlight.

Banishing evil from the night, she'd bring the peace and serenity of daylight.

I settled my good hand on her hip, thumb moving in a lazy circle as I looked up at her.

"From the moment I saw you in the cemetery, I knew you were a work of art. But having you here, like this, naked, hungry for me…" My body reacted to the heat flashing through those gray eyes. "You're a masterpiece, Willow. I understand Picasso now when he said art is a lie. Because I could spend the rest of my life trying to capture the essence of you, and it would never show the truth."

She straddled me, sliding over me in one swift move that had me stunned all over again. Her mouth collided with mine, proving she felt the same insatiable need I did. The need to be joined. To belong. To be together.

"Don't worry, we have forever for you to try," she whispered in my ear.

"Even forever won't be enough, but let's get started on it anyway."

And we tipped over into my new favorite place. My last favorite place. Joined with her.