CHAPTER 6 LINCOLN

When I wake, it takes me half a beat to figure out where the hell I am.

Oh, right.

My couch.

With Jolene.

After the kind of sex that makes you so boneless and exhausted that you fall asleep immediately after.

I have no idea how long we've been lying here.

I get up and check the clock, and it's a little after two in the morning. Jolene's duffel bag still sits by the stairs waiting to go up, and it's only now I realize I haven't even taken her through the whole house. She's been here twice, and she's seen the entry, the kitchen, and the family room…and that's it.

It's a little strange, probably, so I make a mental note to show her around.

It's late, and I'm tired, but my mind is awake as I pace around and pick up our clothes. I throw my shirt in the laundry room with my jeans but pull my boxer briefs back on as I try to come to terms with all this.

I wander over toward the kitchen and lean against the counter, staring at the place where we made dinner earlier together while I try to think this through.

We said we'd explore what this is and figure out how to proceed.

I don't need to explore anymore.

I know what this is.

She's the only person I've ever had it with, and maybe she's the only person I ever will have it with.

So now we need to move onto what comes next: the reality.

Can we make this work? Can either of us admit to our families what's been going on?

I know exactly how my dad will take it.

And I also know I'm still harboring a rather large secret, and if she ever found out, it could mean the end of us—particularly if she ever found out that I knew and didn't tell her.

I can almost see my dad telling her that I knew just to tear us apart for a second time.

I know what he's capable of, and maybe I've sought his approval of me my whole life…but I've also spent much of my life fearing him. And I'm no psychologist, but maybe that's a big part of the reason why I never really wanted kids.

And yet…

When I was sitting on Sam's couch laughing with Jonah at that ridiculous Minions movie, I couldn't help but feel an odd sense of joy I'm not sure I've ever felt before. We shared something that day, and he looked at me with something in his eyes I wanted to see again. I liked having him look up to me, and I wanted to say something to make him laugh again or do something to see that look on his face again like he was talking to his hero.

But this is Jolene's kid. He has a father, and it ain't me.

It's not like the two of us can just start a life together and ride off into the sunset with Jonah on the horse beside us. We've got a rather heavy family feud to consider on top of it, and I know my mom wants grandkids, but I also know she'd never willingly accept a Bailey into her home even if he or she was half-Nash.

Never mind accepting a kid that's fifty percent Bailey and zero percent Nash.

I hate that the thought of bringing that kid to the goat farm in New York crossed my mind. How could I ever really bring him there?

My parents wouldn't accept him from the start, but I wonder what my brothers would think. Spencer might be the closest to being able to accept it given that he seems to have found someone himself. Asher is the closest to me geographically, but I have no idea how he'd take it. And Grayson already knows my feelings are still there after our weekend in New York. He hasn't breathed a word to anybody, but he also hasn't exactly followed up to see if I've taken action on anything yet. Still, when I told him, he didn't exactly seem surprised.

Sometimes I think using our families and their history is a convenient excuse to avoid being together. But then I think of the reality of it, too. My father feels as though he lost everything at the hands of her father. How would I feel in that situation? It's easy to say I'd get over it, but in reality, I'm not sure I would. He's a stubborn grudge-holder, and he did his best to pass that trait down to his four sons.

And what about Bailey? He doesn't know my dad intended to take him out that day in order to protect my future. But how would Joseph feel if he became privy to that information? How would he feel knowing the person at the center of why he had to endure years of physical therapy and never got to play professionally again is currently banging his daughter?

I can't imagine he'd be too keen on it.

Maybe when I retire from coaching or maybe when she isn't team correspondent down the road, we can revisit this whole thing. But for now, I have literally no idea how to make any of it work outside of our bubble.

"I was wondering where you went."

I jump at the sound of her voice, and when I turn around, I find my beautiful Jolene standing there. She's wearing just the blanket wrapped around her, and she looks sweet and sleepy as she stands in front of me.

"You scared me," I say softly, and I don't just mean now when her voice startled me.

I think I mean a whole hell of a lot more than that.

"Sorry," she murmurs, and she walks around the counter until she's standing in front of me.

I pull her into me and wrap my arms tightly around her, clinging to her as I try to banish away the negativity.

She rests her head on my chest as she wraps her arms around my waist. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"That sounds dangerous." She offers a little giggle at that, but when she pulls back to look at me, her smile fades even though her arms are still around me. "What's wrong?"

I shrug. "Everything is so perfect when it's just you and me," I murmur. "And then I let the outside world back in, and everything turns to shit."

She presses her lips together. "What got to you?"

"Nothing. Everything. What are we doing?"

She tightens her grip around my waist. "Figuring things out."

"But for how long, Jo? There's so much in our way, so much at stake. The respect of my team and my staff and the media, your position and your fight for more women in this field, our families…" I hang my head a little. "How do we do this?"

She listens intently as I ramble. "We keep finding these secret moments until we figure it out."

"We keep saying that, but I want to take you to the charity ball instead of Sam. At some point, I'm going to want to let the paparazzi see us. I'm going to want to be proud of who I'm with. I'm going to want the world to know how I feel about you. And I don't get to."

She looks a little caught off guard, but then she poses a question that catches me off guard. "What would you tell the paparazzi if you could?"

I draw in a sharp breath at her question.

"How do you feel about me?" she presses.

Her eyes search mine, and I spot the gold flecks I fell in love with the day I met her.

I was fourteen. She was twelve. Her dad had been traded from Miami to New York, and they moved into the house next door. I was one of the only kids around who knew what it was like to have a father in the league, and we were around the same age. An immediate friendship ignited between us, some sublime and intense connection neither of us really understood.

It took me two years to work up the courage to kiss her. Another year to work up the courage to have sex with her.

And then my father ripped it all away when he made a confession to me that caused me to break her heart as much as it broke my own.

Those feelings never died. They never dimmed. They never went anywhere except buried deep down, and the moment I saw her in the present time, they resurfaced. No amount of pushing them away could ever really get rid of something this strong.

Those gold flecks are centered on my eyes, and maybe I should feel nervous as she searches to find the answer there, but I don't.

The answer is as natural as breathing.

"I love you."

The hazel eyes and the gold flecks look surprised as her brows arch, and I lean down and rest my forehead to hers. "I've been in love with you since I was fourteen, and I feel like I've been forced to spend my entire life fighting it. I'm so goddamn tired of fighting, Jolene."

"Then let's stop fighting," she murmurs.

I pull back, not sure exactly what she means by that. Stop fighting as in—take this public? Or stop fighting as in—we end it here?

"I love you, too. And I'm a big believer that love is enough, Lincoln Nash." She moves one of her arms so she can rest her palm over my heart, and it's beating like crazy after the words she just said to me. My chest is warm, and the feeling radiates out through my entire body like I'm fucking seventeen again. "We will figure this out. We just need some time."

I close my eyes as I draw in a deep breath, breathing in her orange blossoms, and then I drop my lips to her as I hope with everything inside me that we have enough time to prove her words true.