For some reason, his words only made me cry harder. I didn’t deserve this man. I didn’t deserve the gentle way he showed his affection, nor how he’d fought for me every day since he arrived. He was so inherently good, and I couldn’t fathom what he saw in me.
Lincoln held me like he had the night I’d broken down chopping wood, giving me a soft place to land. He was a shelter from the storm, keeping me safe in his arms. Come hell or high water, he’d make sure nothing touched me. I was allowed to break and build myself back up again without fear of condemnation.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid. I’m a crier. I always cry.”
He slowly shifted on his feet, rocking me back and forth in a slow, steady motion. “The reason why doesn’t matter, darlin’. I’ll hold you as long as you need me to.”
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t let him affect me like this.”
He pulled back enough to press a kiss to my temple. “Now you listen to me, Josie... Don’t let your mind fool you into thinking that whatever this is isn’t normal. Everyone processes trauma differently. At the end of this day, the only thing that shouldn’t have happened is him touching you the way he did.”
Ellis’ actions had set off this chain of events. None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up to the bar drunk. However, it was so easy to push that a step further and tell myself if I’d just picked up the damn phone and spoken to him, he wouldn’t have driven to the bar and did what he’d done.
“If I’d just talked to him—” I glanced back at Bishop’s truck, trying to look anywhere but Lincoln’s face.
This time, he curled one finger under my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. “Don’t you dare pin this on yourself. He is a grown-ass adult—a fucking joke of a man—who thought it was a good idea to put his hands on you. I don’t care what you said or didn’t say to him. That doesn’t give him the right to?—”
And then I kissed him, cutting off his words and allowing myself one selfish moment as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe because the way he was looking at me reminded me of how my dad looked at my mom, or perhaps I wanted to wipe everything about Ellis away.
His mouth was tentative, although he clutched my waist like I was the only thing holding him here. Sparks flew as he gently moved his lips against my own, letting everything fade away momentarily.
But then he pulled away with a low groan. His chest heaved as he set his forehead against mine. “Goddammit, Josie?—”
“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly trying to step out of his hold. “I’m sorry, I’m?—”
Lincoln didn’t let me go. Instead, he backed me up until I rested against Bishop’s truck. He looped his fingers in my belt loop, firmly locking me in place. “If you say you’re sorry one more time, I can’t be held responsible for what I do next,” he growled. “I don’t ever want those words to leave your lips, especially not for taking what you want.”
“I don’t know why I did that,” I said, quickly trying to cover up the feeling of rejection clawing its way up my chest. I was thankful for the clouds that had drifted in front of the moon, blocking the light so he couldn’t see how red my cheeks were.
“Josie, baby, stop,” he said, pressing into me. I could feel him hardening against my body. “I’ve been dreaming of that kiss sinceyou left Tennessee. I’ve done nothing but think of your lips on mine since the day I stepped foot on Black Springs.”
“I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
He chuckled, but there was little humor in it. “The only thing uncomfortable is how tight my jeans get whenever you’re this close.” He lifted his hand and ran a thumb underneath my eyes. “But you’ve just been through something you haven’t been able to process, and I’m not gonna be the asshole that takes advantage of that.”
I looked up at him with watery eyes, silently hating that I hadn’t come to my senses earlier. “You’re a good man, Lincoln Carter. One of the best.”
Lincoln gave me a soft smile. “Only for you, darlin’. Only ever for you.” He leaned in to press another kiss to my temple. “You ready to go home?”
I nodded, and he moved to open the door for me. He waited until I was buckled in before jogging to the driver’s side. He placed one hand on the steering wheel and the other on top of the console, palm up. Without thinking, I reached over and interlaced our fingers, and settled back into the worn seat.
We didn’t speak as he drove through town, not even as he turned onto the county road toward the ranch. Instead, he turned the music on low and hummed to a Gary Stewart song.
Every now and then, he’d brush his thumb along my skin. Each time felt better than the last, sending goosebumps up and down my arms. It didn’t matter that his hands were rough—calloused and worn from years of hard labor. Each swipe was a gentle promise of something I didn’t quite understand yet.
All too soon, Lincoln pulled into the driveway in front of Dad’s house, putting the truck in park and cutting the lights. He let his head fall back against the seat as he blew out a long breath. “Well… That wasn’t how I saw the night ending.”
I chuckled, unable to help myself. “Yeah, me neither.” Shifting in my seat, I faced him. “How’s your hand?”
He glanced down at where our fingers intertwined, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. “Eh, it should probably ache more than it does, but I can’t dwell on that while you’re holding it.”
Damn, those stupid butterflies. It felt like a whole swarm of them was released in the pit of my stomach. My cheeks blazed, and I was thankful we were sitting in the dark. “You’re a real smooth talker, you know that?”
“Oh, I’ve been told that a time or two,” he laughed. It was beautiful, and I wanted to hear it again. “Guess it’s that southern charm. Just comes naturally.”
“You do make it look easy,” I admitted. We sat in silence, staring at one another in our perfect little bubble. Nothing existed outside of this truck. Our world had hit pause, giving us a brief moment to just exist. The air was thick with things we didn’t have to say.
