Page 61 of Firefly Effect

A giggle bubbles from my throat as my cheeks heat. “Probably, but I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

He grins and shakes his head. “You already know me so well.”

Do I? My eyes search his while I chew on my bottom lip. “I feel like I do in some ways, but…”

He leans back on one elbow, regarding me curiously. “But what?”

I turn slightly to face him, bringing my fingers to his chest to draw slow circles there. “Why don’t you ever talk about your family?”

Lincoln visibly tenses, and I wonder what nerve I’ve struck. “Honestly, Evie, it’s not the happiest of stories.”

Frowning, I press my hand to his chest and look up into his eyes. “I’m not going to judge you, Linc.”

His tension eases a bit before he rests his head back on the pillow and tucks his hands behind his neck. “Okay, then. Buckle up.”

I lay my head on my own pillow, keeping my focus on him.

“I don’t remember much from my early childhood, but I know my home wasn’t the ideal environment. It got so bad that CPS took me away from my parents when I was eight. They placed me in temporary homes until I was finally adopted by a good family when I was twelve.”

Holy shit. Lincoln’s story is not at all what I expected. “I’m so sorry.”

He turns, laying on his side again and looking down at me, a frown creasing his beautiful brows. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m grateful for what led me to my adoptive family.” His eyes turn down as if in shame. “They were great.”

Something doesn’t seem to be adding up. If Lincoln has a great family somewhere out there, where are they now? Why aren’t they part of Lucy’s life like Francine? And why does he call Dr. Rohls the father he never had?

“Does your family live close by?”

I can sense the tension that radiates through his body at my question.

“No,” he says, his tone sharper than before. He clears his throat. “We lost touch after I got into some trouble as a teen.”

He sits up completely and starts to look for his clothes. I watch him, confused and a little hurt at this turn of events. I’m not sure if I should push him to talk more—the subject obviously hurts him. So I don’t. Instead, I walk to my small closet and put on a long T-shirt before walking him downstairs to the door.

Once we get to the entrance, I almost expect him to just walk out without a word. The awkward silence is already intense. But he turns to me first, curves his hand around my neck, and brings my lips to his. It’s another slow kiss, filled with all the pent-up emotion I feel like he wants to relay but for some reason can’t. At least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe after the best night of my life.

“I’m sorry I have to leave like this.” He frowns, his disappointment seeming to match mine. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

Relief floods me, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I doubted that he would want to see me again, but I guess I just needed to know we would be okay after this difficult conversation. “Of course.” I smile. “You know where to find me.”

He smiles back then kisses me again before finally stepping away. “Thanks for the tour.”

I can’t hold back a huge grin. “Anytime, Doctor Reed.”

With one final mock glare followed by a wink, Lincoln leaves, and I lock up behind him, still with that ridiculous grin.

When I’m left all alone, I turn toward the bar. A neat shot of Tennessee Fire should help me get back to sleep.

I reach over the counter to grab the bottle and a glass, pausing when I notice an off-white envelope sitting next to the glasses behind the bar. “Evelyn” is written on the front in script, and a glob of red wax has been pressed on the back to seal it.

A strange feeling twists through my insides. I know I would have seen that envelope before I closed up earlier that night.

I reach for it with a trembling hand, thinking hard about who could have possibly dropped it off. Then I remember the Firefly booth was set up at the market with three of our employees working there—one of them could have easily slipped back inside.

But why would they?

I tear open the flap and pull out a white card, but I need my glasses to read the messy, loopy handwriting. Rushing back to my room, I lock the door behind me, my heart beating fast as I find my glasses. Sitting at the edge of my bed, I read the words scribbled on the card.

Run run as fast as you can,

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