CHAPTER 8 JOLENE

I can't take the tension in this room.

It's some strange combination of hate and sex. Maybe we should just have hate sex to get it out of our systems.

Now there's an idea…

I just need to get out of here a while, so I decide to head down to the lobby bar to grab a drink and maybe something to eat.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to invite him or ask him to come with me or not say a word at all. We're not friends, but we're not just acquaintances, either. I don't want to share a room with him, and I certainly don't want to share a meal with him either.

All I know is I need to get away from him, and inviting him to come with me would defeat that.

"I'm going to find something to eat," I finally announce, and I bolt from the room without waiting for a response.

The lobby is still packed with people, and I wade through a crowd of people to get to the bar. There's nowhere to sit, but it's fine. I'll order a drink, wait for some food, and take it somewhere else.

It takes a solid few minutes before the bartender even looks at me. "Vodka cranberry, please. Light cranberry, heavy vodka, and a lime."

The bartender nods, and the guy sitting on the stool beside me starts to laugh. I can smell the stale beer on his breath the second I turn to glance in his direction.

"Heavy vodka? This girl likes to par-tay!" He's slurring, and the glassy eyes are a pretty good clue that he's already wasted. He's on the younger side, maybe mid-twenties, and he looks like he's having a great time. But I can't tell whether he's here with other people or not, which feels like a red flag.

"Just having a rough day," I admit.

"Well allow me to make it better, pretty lady."

Pretty lady?

I offer a tight smile. "I'm good, but thanks for the offer."

He links an arm around my shoulders, and his hand accidentally brushes against my breast.

At least…I think it's accidental. He seems pretty far gone.

"Please don't touch me," I say firmly.

"Oh, come on. Let's have a little fun!" He leans down and tries to kiss me, but I swerve out of his grasp so his lips find my neck instead.

Fear grips onto me.

Ice fills my veins.

We're alone in a crowd. It's too loud in here for anyone to hear me if I scream, and everyone around us is wrapped up in laughter and drinks and conversation. Nobody's paying attention to the guy trying to assault me, and maybe it's just a kiss, but it's his hands on me when I've told him no.

It's his lips on me when I'm trying to get away.

Who knows what else he's capable of, and the thought makes my heart race as shivers climb down my spine.

It isn't the first time I've been in a situation like this, and the reminder of the last time makes me freeze for a beat in fear.

I will not be taken advantage of again.

Last time, he was my fiancé. He was the man who was supposed to love me most, and instead, he used emotional manipulation to get me to do things when I didn't always want to do them. It's not the same as being assaulted in a bar by a stranger, but the rising feeling of panic is the same.

I push him as hard as I can in the chest, but he's too strong for me. The guy's grip tightens on my arm, and I yell, "Let me go!"

I yank my arm as hard as I can from his grip, and as I turn to run from him, I smack right into the solid chest standing behind me.

"I'm sorry," I yell, panic still pulsing in my chest, and I back up as bergamot flitters through the air to my senses.

I glance up to find Lincoln Nash staring down the guy who just tried to assault me, and written on his face is absolute and total rage.

"What the fuck just happened?" he demands.

"It's fine," I plead. I can't have him getting in trouble on my account.

"What happened?" he repeats, his voice cold and deadly.

"He tried to kiss me," I blurt.

"And you told him no?"

I nod.

He walks over to the guy.

"Stop!" I scream at Lincoln. I have no idea what he's about to do.

He grabs the guy by gathering the collar of his shirt in his fist and pulls him back to a stand. "When a woman tells you no, it means no." His voice is filled with venom, and despite the loud and chaotic volume in this place, somehow it comes out loud and clear. He turns to the bartender. "This asshole tried to assault a woman in here. Take care of him."

Lincoln lets go of the guy's shirt and grabs my hand. He ushers me through the crowded room and through the front door of the hotel.

As soon as we're on the sidewalk outside, where I feel like I can breathe again, I burst into tears.

"Jesus," he murmurs. He pulls me into him and wraps one of his arms around my waist while his other hand goes to the back of my head. It's soothing there as he sort of pets my hair, and I tremble as I rest my cheek to his chest for a beat. "Are you okay?" he murmurs.

"I'm okay. It was just…" Scary. Horrifying. Lonely. "It was just a kiss."

"But you said no. He had no right to touch you in any way, and if I wasn't in town to give the commencement address, I would've fucking killed that guy."

I'm not sure why that makes my heart squeeze in my chest. He defended me. He took care of me. He's making sure I'm okay. I'm trying to play it off like it's not a big deal, and he's assuring me it is.

And something about that makes me snap…but not in the way I'm expecting it to.

Why does he of all people have to be my other half?

I'm not sure, but I'm also not sure I can fight against it any longer.

I draw in a deep breath, ready to confess my thoughts, when he pulls back.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod, but I find myself unable to speak.

And then my phone starts to ring. I check my watch and see it's Sam calling.

"I need to take this." I dig through my purse to find my phone and answer. "Sam?"

I turn away from Lincoln as I take the call, but I sense that he hasn't moved.

"Hey, JoJo. Listen, everything is fine and I'm starting with that. Let me repeat, everything is fine."

"What happened?" I ask, a new feeling of panic taking the old panic's place.

"Jonah was climbing on some monkey bars and fell off. He landed funny on his arm and it looked like a break to me, so we're at the ER."

"Oh my God!" I practically scream. "I'm coming home right now."

"Stop it. You have work to do, and he's going to be fine. There's nothing you can do anyway, and you know nobody will take better care of him than me."

"Except me! I'm his mother! I need to be there!"

"He's fine. Okay? He's fine, and you have to cover that speech. It'll build character for you both. The doctor will be in any minute and I need your consent for treatment."

"Of course! Yes, treat him. And we have to inform Jeremy. Oh, and call my parents!"

"Already on it. He'll be fine. Promise," she says.

She sounds like she's about to hang up. Oh hell no.

"Don't you dare hang up, Samantha Reynolds! At least let me talk to him!"

"Of course, hang on." I hear some rustling, and then I hear my baby's voice.

"Mom?"

"Jonah! Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah. It hurts but Sam's taking good care of me and promised me ice cream."

I laugh even though tears are pulsing behind my eyes. "You're such a brave boy. I'll be there in a few hours, okay? I just need to book a plane ride back."

"Sam's right, Mom. There's nothing you can do, and making you miss your work thing would just make me feel worse." His little voice sounds more like a big boy than the little one I've been raising.

"But I could kiss you and hug you and see for myself that you're okay," I protest.

"You can do all that when you get back in two days, too."

I giggle as tears actually start to fall. I brush them away. "When did you get so smart?"

"I was born with it on my mom's side."

"I love you, Jonah. You call me if you need anything at all, you hear me? I will hop the next flight I can get on any time of the day or night," I promise.

"It's fine, Mom. I'll get a cool cast and all my friends can sign it and I'll be as good as new in a few weeks."

"That sounds like something Sam said."

"It is," he says, and I picture his cute little shrug. "The doctor just walked in. I better go. Love you!"

"I love you, baby!" I say into the phone again as it disconnects.

And as soon as I hear that sound of a call ending, I burst into tears.

He sounded fine, really. He told me not to come home.

Still, my first instinct is to pull up flights home.

I don't need to be here covering this speech. I should be home with my son, and it's one of the things that hurts the most about being a career-driven single mom.

I want to be there for my son. I feel guilty when I'm not.

But I just got this promotion, and I already have someone else trying to take it from me.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Is your son okay?"

I can't force myself to turn around to face Lincoln. Not when the tears are rushing down my cheeks. Not when it feels like my world is caving in on me after nearly being assaulted in the bar and then being saved and then finding out my boy is hurting and I'm not there with him. "They think he broke his arm and I'm not there because I'm here."

I feel his body move in behind mine as he wraps his arms around me. "He's in good hands."

"You don't know that," I hiss, spinning in his arms to face him.

He looks surprised when our eyes meet, and I'm not sure if he's surprised at my sudden turn, my words, or the fact that I'm practically sobbing while still trying to hold it together by a thread.

But the thread is frayed and I'm close to giving in.

He tightens his hold on me but reaches a thumb up to my cheek to wipe away a tear. His eyes search mine for a few beats, and the tears continue to fall.

His eyes flick to my lips before returning to my eyes, and when they land on mine again, they're cloudy.

Unsure.

Confused.

I feel it, too.

Cloudy, unsure, and confused.

I have no business feeling what I'm feeling, yet I also know I have exactly zero ways to stop it.