Page 31 of Firefly Effect

He squints like he’s truly puzzled. “Back where?”

“To the campground. Something terrible happened there years ago, when I was a teen. Anyway, passing by that spot was hard enough, but when you stopped my tube…”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, his ashen expression convincing me his contrition is genuine. “I only stopped you to make sure you were okay. You went pale, and it seemed like you couldn’t hear a word I was saying.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, um, Patrick and I used to go camping out there all the time. The last time we were there, a girl was murdered.” My eyes shift back to his, feeling peace in his gaze. “She was my friend, and…”

A rough, calloused hand covers mine, causing me to take a deep breath that seems to reach every tense muscle in my body. I clear my throat and open my mouth, not sure what is about to come out. I never had to explain the details to J.D. during our therapy sessions. He was there that night too. He knew the details as well as anyone.

“I didn’t see… the act… but I was one of the ones to find her after it happened. And she…” I immediately begin to tremble, and even Lincoln squeezing my hand doesn’t quell my nerves this time.

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to, Evie.”

I suck in a fortifying breath anyway. “It all happened so fast. I heard her scream, and I just knew something terrible was happening, but… we couldn’t get to her fast enough.”

Lincoln scoots toward me on the rock, his arm sliding around my body until I’m wrapped in a firm, warm hug. “We?” he asks gently.

Our eyes connect again, and I swear the color of his irises matches the wooded environment behind him, mossy green with speckles of gold-like glints from the sun. Those eyes are hypnotic—or at least, they steady me in a way I’ve never felt before.

“The girl who died, Carley, had an older brother.” I debate using his name. It’s not like that really matters, but somehow it feels important. “Foster. He was with me when we found her.”

Lincoln blinks and takes in a long breath. “You’re talking about the Firefly Man murder.” His brow crinkles as he searches my eyes. “The first one.”

The blood seems to drain from my face in utter shock. “You know about it?”

He nods, looking disturbed. “All too well. They made us study all that shit in my criminology class. The Firefly Man has his own section in the Serial Murder handbook. That was one of our course texts.” He pauses. “Anyway, I figured everyone in the Appalachians knew the story. I even talked to your uncle about it a little bit because of the name of your bar.”

My mouth forms an O, as I already know why that topic would have come up. “Fireflies have always been my favorite creatures. They were Carley’s too. I refuse to let a psychotic freak change that. So I took back the word. People can call him the Firefly Man all they want, but that won’t change the fact that Carley’s light will never die. I won’t let it.”

He gives my shoulders a squeeze. “That’s beautiful. I’ll bet Carley would love that sentiment.”

My heart swells at the emotion behind his words. “I hope so.”

Silence passes between us for a few more beats until Lincoln lets out another sigh. “It’s awful that the killer is still out there after all these years.”

My mouth opens on a sharp breath. “And to think they all thought Foster did it.”

Lincoln’s hold tightens slightly. “They?”

“The cops at first, but rumors spread throughout the town and even beyond.” I stare off into the distance, seeing nothing save for the blue and red lights that bounced around the darkness that night for what seemed like hours while Patrick held my shivering body close. “They took Foster and interrogated him. They even threw him behind bars for months—said he had all kinds of DNA all over him. Her hair, her blood.” I shiver as my eyes pool with tears. “Her blood was all over his clothes and on his skin from holding her body, trying to wake her.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “He had just found his sister bludgeoned—what did they expect?”

Lincoln’s mouth presses against my cheek, and his other arm wraps around me. He’s so much closer. “You don’t need to do this now. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I raise my head to face him, angered by the insinuation that there will ever be an “okay” time. “And when would a better time be? When I’m in your office?” My eyes narrow. “On your couch?”

His arms fall away, but he doesn’t put any distance between us. Instead, he glares right back at me. “What the fuck, Evie?”

Guilt instantly crowds my chest. Yeah, what the fuck, Evie? “I’m sorry.” Every ounce of my being feels apologetic for something I don’t even understand. “I wasn’t trying to snap at you. I just don’t want anyone else to be burdened with what I’ve been through.”

His expression immediately relaxes, and what I see next recharges me completely. “I think you forget what I do for a living.”

The bad-timed joke makes me smile, and my face heats. “Clearly not, since I just referred to your couch.”

He shifts so he’s facing me, his hands inappropriate, but not at all unwelcome, on my thighs. “I could never feel burdened by anything you have to say. This is difficult for you. I can see that. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

I mirror his movement, facing him and trying not to feel the buzz of electricity between us as his hands shift, one on each leg. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I haven’t talked about any of this to anyone for a very long time. I’ve just kind of bottled it up in my own firefly jar, trying to keep Carley’s memory alive while suffering through the loss of her. Sometimes, it’s hard to breathe.” I can hardly believe the words even as I say them.

“Maybe it’s time to open the jar.”

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