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I seize his hand, placing it gently on my lap, and begin to trace soothing circles on the back with my thumb. "Thanks for inviting me."
He seems as though he wants to say more, so I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, a surge of confidence coursing through me after the enjoyable hour we've spent together. His gaze lifts to the sky, and he takes a deep breath before broaching a more serious topic. "Why don't you talk to your parents?" There's a momentary pause, and his eyes lock onto mine. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'd like to know. I just can't wrap my mind around someone not wanting you in their life."
I take a moment to consider whether I want to delve into this now. It's been a perfect day so far, and I'm hesitant to discuss my less-than-ideal parents. However, I understand Lincoln's curiosity. He often shares anecdotes about his own parents, something I've observed throughout our time together.
I'm like a vault, a fortress of secrets, where information remains locked away unless it's carefully extracted
I take a deep breath, steeling myself before I begin to unravel the emotional turmoil within me. It's not easy to put into words, to explain why my parents have consistently chosen their careers over their own children.
"My parents," I start, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and resignation, "seem to value their jobs more than anything. It's as if they had kids merely for the sake of appearances. They were never involved in our school activities or hobbies, and there's no rhyme or reason to it."
I can feel my blood pressure rising, but I push on, determined to get it all out. "They've missed my birthday for the past fifteen years, and they promised they'd be there for my high school graduation." A bitter chuckle escapes my lips. "But when I walked across the stage and looked to where they were supposed to be sitting, both seats were empty. Meanwhile, when I glanced to the left, Leia's whole family was there, even my brother, Elliott. Despite the intensity of professional hockey, he'd never miss an important event. He wouldn't even skip the less important ones."
I clench my jaw, the words getting harder to say with each breath. "My irresponsible, wild brother has been more of a father figure to me than my own dad ever was."
I pause, feeling the weight of my disappointment and yearning for something better. "I'm so tired of being let down by my parents, but I know I'll keep giving them more chances. It's this hope, this stubborn belief that they might have a sudden change of heart."
My mother and father, they are the roots of all my mental and emotional struggles, yet I can't shake the need to have some kind of relationship with them.
Lincoln startles me by gently pulling me into his lap, burying his face in my neck. "That really sucks," he mutters, his lips grazing my neck, his hand awkwardly patting my back.
The laughter bubbles up inside me, uncontrollable and unexpected. I gasp for breath, trying to hold it in, but it bursts out of me in hysterical giggles. I double over, clutching my stomach as tears fill my eyes. It's been years since I laughed like this, and it feels damn good.
Yeah, that's right. Damn good.
I reach up to brush the tears from my eyes, my laughter barely contained as I attempt to explain to Lincoln, "You said that sucks."
Guilt is etched across his handsome face. "Sorry. I've never had to deal with anything like that in my life. I'm not good at comforting someone in a time of need."
I manage to suck in a deep breath to regain composure. "I'm not in a time of need," I say, rolling my eyes at him, feigning indifference.
"I think you're exceptionally strong."
"Me? Are you sure you mean me?"
His big hand squeezes my thigh twice. "No. I mean the other girl who's sitting on my lap."
I place my hand on top of his that's resting on my leg. "Well, are you glad you asked about my deep, dark issues?"
He flips his hand, our fingers slotting together. "I'm happy you wanted to share everything with me, but I wish your parents weren't so shitty," he says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. Lincoln may not be a wordsmith, but his comforting touch speaks volumes.
"Me too," I whisper, snuggling into him. "I'm freezing."
He chuckles as he stands up and helps me to my feet, our fingers still interlocked. Leading me back to his truck, he assists me inside and closes the door before walking around to the driver's side.
No one has ever opened doors for me as consistently as Lincoln does. I could certainly get used to this type of treatment.
I slide into the passenger seat, and he deftly flips the center console up, transforming the front into a cozy bench seat. As he tilts it, he reaches out and grabs me under my arms, tugging me closer. Our bodies press together, and our faces are in dangerously close proximity. His strong hands gently cup my face, pulling me nearer, and then our lips meet.
For a brief moment, I'm paralyzed, shocked by the sudden intimacy of the kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, and I find myself freezing as our mouths connect. He leans back slightly, his words a soft, tantalizing whisper against my lips, "Kiss me back."
The deep timbre of his voice shakes me out of my daze, and I respond to his request. We share a tender, lingering kiss, our lips moving in perfect harmony. With increasing passion, he presses his mouth against mine, and I can't help but part my lips slightly, inviting him in. His tongue finds its place within the gap, and Lincoln's hand moves to the back of my head, his other hand dropping to my thigh.
His fingers gently squeeze my thigh, and a soft moan escapes into our passionate kiss, spurring Lincoln on. He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I eagerly part my lips further, granting him access to explore. Our tongues meet and dance together, guided by his experienced touch, leaving me curious about how they might feel against more sensitive parts of my body.
The kiss becomes increasingly intense, and I can sense his eagerness to savor every moment. One of his hands accidentally brushes over the apex of my thighs, causing me to whimper into our heated embrace. The sound snaps Lincoln out of his daze, and he reluctantly breaks away from my mouth.
Struggling to catch his breath, he rasps, "Sorry."
