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The sound of his voice washed over me, calming my nerves and easing my demons. For a moment, I forgot about all the reasons this would never work, why I couldn’t even try, and I Iet it feel like it was just the two of us in our own little world.
When he finished the song, I looked up at him and saw a soft smile on his face. "Feeling better, dream girl?" he asked.
I gulped and nodded, even as a wave of embarrassment washed over me. He’d seen me at my most vulnerable, my most fragile state. My panic attack had stripped away any facade I’d been putting on, leaving me raw and exposed.
I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I tried to gather my thoughts and emotions.
But as I looked up at him, there was no judgment in his eyes, only concern. The arm that wasn’t holding me against him gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.
"Thank you," I whispered, still feeling a little shaky.
“What was that about?” he murmured, his gaze flicking across my features in that intense way of his, like he was mapping out the freckles that dotted my nose as though they were constellations in the heavens he was desperate to record.
“Sometimes…it becomes too much,” and he nodded, like he understood perfectly what it felt like to be destroyed from the inside out.
“Why that song?” I asked, wanting to push the attention away from me.
I watched as his expression changed, pain etching itself into every line of his face. It was like a veil had dropped over his eyes, blocking out everything around him as he was lost in his own thoughts.
I didn't know what had caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, but I could feel the sadness radiating off him in waves. It was like a heavy weight had settled over the room, suffocating us both.
He set me down gently and pulled away, turning towards the Dallas skyline stretched out before us.
For a moment, we stood there in silence, the weight of his sadness everywhere.
Eventually, he took a deep breath, and his gaze flickered back to me, the pain still visible in his eyes. He tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt, and it only made the sadness more apparent.
“Sorry,” he finally chuckled darkly, the sound at odds with everything else about him. “Here I was trying to make you feel better, and I’m fucking it all up.”
I placed my hand on his, where it clutched the railing. His gaze widened in surprise, I guessed because I’d never initiated anything close to it. He stared at it, as if fascinated. I was one shade lighter than him, and it reminded me of the imagery I’d thought of earlier, of the sun and the moon.
“It was my older brother’s favorite song,” Lincoln said suddenly, his voice coming out halting and broken. “My father would beat the shit out of me growing up, and my brother wasn’t old enough to stop him, so he’d sneak into my room at night and try to comfort me. He didn’t know any lullabies, so he’d sing ‘Creep’ to me instead. And every time, it would calm me down.” He shook his head, the small smile on his lips at odds with the pain in his eyes that seemed etched deep into his soul. “It was the first thing that came to me. I, uh, don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.” He shrugged sheepishly.
“What sort of thing?” I asked, cocking my head.
“At feeling someone’s sadness like it belonged to me, too.”
I bit my lip, heat flooding my cheeks at the way he was so earnestly staring at me.
It was the craziest thing, but I could almost feel the unspoken words he was thinking in his head. Words that made me want to stay, and run…all at once.
“There you are,” a flirty voice struck through the moment. I turned to see a stunning woman standing in the entryway to the balcony, her body draped in a form-fitting lace black dress that left little to the imagination. Her hair was long and perfectly curled, cascading down her back in waves of golden silk. She smiled at Lincoln like they were old friends, and I could feel the heat of her gaze searing into my skin.
Her attention flicked away from me after only a moment, clearly not seeing me as a threat. As she stared at Lincoln like she was undressing him with her eyes, jealousy and insecurity raised their heads within me once again. Lincoln greeted her with a disinterested smile, and it was clear he knew her.
For a brief moment, I felt like an outsider in my own skin. I tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, but it was no use.
She took a step closer to Lincoln, her body language oozing with flirtatiousness. I could feel my walls going up, brick by brick, as I tried to protect myself from the pain that was sure to come. It was a familiar feeling, this fear of being replaced or forgotten. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself, but it was hard when the air was thick with the scent of sex and alcohol.
“I’m going to go,” I murmured, pushing away from the railing and heading inside without another glance back.
CHAPTER 18
LINCOLN
Iwatched in a stupor for a moment as Monroe walked away. Again. I only had so much patience, and there would come a time—very soon—when I’d make sure she never tried to leave again. When she wouldn’t even think about doing it.
Carolyn reached out her hand to touch me, but I jerked away and stalked Monroe, who was pushing through the crowd like her life depended on it.
