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I let out something between a sigh and a bitter laugh. “We can try. She’ll just use another one.”
“Give me your phone,” he said, holding out his free hand.
I didn’t want him to move his other hand. It was resting loosely on the counter beside my hip, a small warm point of contact I wasn’t ready to lose. But I slipped my phone out of my pocket and handed it over.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. If it’s someone you don’t want texting you, I’ll handle it.”
“You will?” My voice was a little ragged from the tears.
“Sure. Do you need to give me any context?”
“No.”
“Good. I can be an asshole.” My eyes widened slightly. “Not to you,” he added, his voice dropping. “Never to you. Only to people who deserve it.”
He held my phone up to my face to unlock it, tapped rapidly on the screen, and hit send.
“What did you say?” I asked.
He showed me. Whoever this is, this is Chloe’s boyfriend. Don’t ever contact her again. You hurt her and I’ll hurt you.
“Oh, my God.” My eyes whipped up to his. “You said you’re my boyfriend.”
“I’m not going to actually hurt them, because I don’t know who they are, where they are or what they did. But sometimes you have to be direct.” He handed the phone back. “Should I block the number now?”
I sighed. “They’ll just try with another one.”
“You’re not my boyfriend,” I added after a moment, because I felt I should point that out, even though some reckless part of me kind of liked the idea.
“For the purposes of that text, I am. And, if you need backup, I’m your guy. Any of my brothers will back me up.”
“You’d go to battle on my behalf?”
“Absolutely.”
This whole conversation was entirely ridiculous. And yet, it warmed my heart, because Lincoln was completely serious.
“I don’t know what they did,” he said quietly, “but I don’t like you crying. You’re a good person.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. Although this had all started with me sobbing alone in the kitchen in the dark, so my baseline was already shaky.
“How are you doing?” His tone lowered and softened, and my heart felt as if a little warmth circled around it.
“You caught me crying alone in the kitchen in the dark, but I’m trying to get over the embarrassment.”
His lips kicked up just barely at one corner, and I swear to God, that tiny little hitch sent my belly spinning, my hormones cartwheeling, and heat lighting up one tiny candle after another inside me.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he said after a moment.
“I just feel a little silly. That’s all.”
“Okay. Should I go?”
I shook my head before I could even think. I fervently did not want Lincoln to walk away right now. I wanted to forget everything. With my hormones careening wild inside me, I surprised myself, lifting a hand and curling it into his shirt to tug him a little bit closer.
Lightning sizzled in the air around us. His eyes darkened.
