Page 54 of Firefly Effect

I’ve learned ways to cope whenever that discomfort rises up. I take a long, deep breath, pulling air from deep in my lungs, then release it slowly. Eventually, the feeling starts to fade and my breath returns to normal, but my heart still thuds loudly in my chest.

Frowning, I step closer to the balcony rail, senses still on high alert. As I scan the bar below, my thoughts go to the pocketknife I always carry. Patrick gifted it to me when I first moved here in one of his many attempts to help me feel safe living in this town. It’s not the deadliest weapon, but I’ve never left home without it.

Sighing, I almost begin to scold myself for being so paranoid. This is always how it goes. My panic spikes for nothing at all, every single time. But when I see the front door is ajar, my lungs instantly constrict. What the?—

I look around the room frantically to identify anything else out of the ordinary. Everything appears just as I left it, save for the opened door, but Armando had rushed outside quickly. Maybe he didn’t shut it all the way.

After another quick self-scolding, I rush downstairs, taking the steps two steps at a time. I jump from the last and rush for the door, closing and locking it behind me.

My eyes squeeze shut, and I lean back against the door, holding my breath to slow my heart rate. For the longest string of seconds, I’m stuck in a vacuum, my senses smothered by the tunnel I’ve successfully trapped myself in. It’s where I go when my anxiety cripples me—when there’s nowhere safe to go but inside my mind.

“Evie,” a muffled voice calls.

My heart kicks in my chest, and my eyes flash open wide. Lincoln is standing there with a concerned expression. I don’t know how long he’s been calling my name, but thankfully his presence is the only antidote I need.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I swallow and nod, then I look to his left to find Lucy beaming up at me with her beautiful smile.

“Hi,” she says, her hand in her dad’s and swinging his arm, completely oblivious of the panic attack her dad just pulled me out of.

“Hi, Lucy.” My smile blooms easily, especially when I realize she’s wearing the yellow dress I bought from one of the local shops as her birthday gift. “What a beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.”

Lucy latches on to some of the fabric and fluffs it, letting it flow around her legs. “Thank you. It’s yellow like the sun. Daddy says you like yellow.”

Heat fills my cheeks, and my eyes dart over to find Lincoln’s gaze already on me. “Look, Lucy. Evie’s dress is yellow too.”

Lucy squeals with excitement and takes my hand in hers. “We match, Evie.”

I laugh. “We do, don’t we? We must have good taste.”

Lincoln sighs dramatically. “However am I going to handle two such lovely girls in two such pretty yellow dresses?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re a silly goose.” Lucy swings his arm even harder.

He smiles down at her, love glowing in his eyes. I swear, this man couldn’t be more attractive if he tried.

We walk down Main Street just like that, hand-in-hand, with Lucy swaying each of our arms at an uneven pace. I should feel ridiculous, especially with the eyes of the town on us. But there isn’t a single thing about this situation that feels weird or awkward. It just feels… good.

The first stop we make is at the face-painting station. Doreen is surrounded by painting supplies, and she holds a brush in her hands, adding the final touch to a butterfly on another little girl’s cheek.

Lincoln waves his hand over the board of face-painting options. “Which one do you want, Lucy?”

She taps a finger to her mouth a few times before her eyes light up, and she points at the bumblebee. “This one.” Then she looks at me. “You too, Evie. We’ll match!”

I was not at all prepared to get my face painted today, but there’s no way I’m saying no to a good time. “Sounds like a great plan.”

Lincoln smiles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s clear that anyone and anything that makes Lucy happy also makes him happy. That’s not why I give in so easily to the little cutie, but it’s a damn good bonus.

Lucy jumps in the chair first, so we wait for her at the entrance of the booth.

Lincoln’s voice is soft when he says, “Thank you for always being so sweet to her.”

I turn to him, surprised. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Lincoln. Lucy makes it pretty easy.”

He nods as his fingers brush mine. “She really does, doesn’t she? You’d almost never know a whole parent was missing from her life.”

I frown, hating that he and Lucy both bear the heavy weight of that statement. “Because she has a father who can do it all.” I wink at him, hoping to lighten his mood.

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