Page 82 of Firefly Effect

She chokes out a laugh. “Explain what? That you’ve been lying to me for months?” She stands, her knuckles turning white against the pressure of her fists as they press into my desk. “That you’ve known who I was from the very first day I sat on that fucking couch?”

I stop a few feet away from my desk, now terrified to come any closer. Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to give her some time to realize that it’s just me. That I’m not the threat.

“What is all of this? What does it mean?” She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Is it you? Are you the killer?” She picks up the stack of newspaper clippings and drops them back down on my desk. “Are these your souvenirs?”

A ball of anger bursts in my chest at her accusation. “You think I did that to Carley? To any of them?” It’s my turn to glare. “No, Evie. I’m not the fucking killer. I’m just a broken man who lost his sister in the most horrific way possible—who then got locked away for nothing. I couldn’t do anything for nearly a year. I was helpless. On top of that, I lost everything. My home, my family, my fucking sanity.”

I draw in a deep breath to settle my emotions as much as possible. “By the time I was released, I knew what I had to do. I’ve been trying to track down Carley’s killer ever since.” I hesitate to tell her this next bit even though she’s already figured it out. “That’s why I came back here.”

“But you brought your daughter here.”

That comment is a punch in the gut I know I deserve. I fight the urge to jump to my own defense, knowing that once again, I need to be careful. “Lucy is safe.”

Evie’s jaw drops, her eyes flaring in anger. “How can you possibly know that, Lincoln?”

I hate the way I feel right now. Guilt stirs again, but this time it’s mixed with anger. My eyes close tightly as a hiss of breath streams between my teeth. “I just know, okay?”

“Because she doesn’t match the victim’s profile? I hope that’s not what you’re thinking, because Carley didn’t match the profile, either.”

“Stop,” I say, unable to take any more. “Lucy is safe.” I open my mouth then close it again, debating my next words. “There’s someone watching over her, okay? Someone I trust. I just…” I search her eyes. “I can’t say more than that. I’m sorry.”

I see the pain spread from her eyes to her entire expression. I’m not the man she thought she fell in love with, I know. But I’m still the man that’s loved her for far longer than she can ever imagine.

“Did you think, in some sick, twisted way, that being my therapist could help you?” she asks. “Is that why you wanted me to remember more about that night?”

More guilt riddles my insides. “Initially, yes, my plan was to get to know you as my patient, and to uncover details about that night that no one but you knows. But Evie… I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you. That was never part of the plan.”

Seconds turn into minutes until the flame of her anger begins to die down. Now, she seems more like a rain shower of curiosity. “Why didn’t you just tell me who you were? I would have understood. I would have…” She sucks in a deep breath. “I told you that I’d been searching for you. I told you I had a crush on you way back then.”

Her chin quivers, and she swipes at another tear. I can’t stop myself from walking around my desk and wrapping my arms around her. When she doesn’t push me away, I bury my face in her neck. “Evie, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t say anything.” This is the part when I might just lose her. “There’s much more to this. But you need to know my feelings for you are very real.”

She trembles in my embrace before placing her palms on my chest and pushing me away. “I don’t know how I can possibly believe you now. I… I don’t even know what to call you anymore. Are you Lincoln? Are you Foster?” She shakes her head.

Another dose of guilt injects my veins. “Lincoln is my name. It always has been. Foster was a nickname.”

Evie’s forehead wrinkles at the center. “What?”

I swallow hard. There’s so much I’ve never told another soul, but here I am spilling my guts to the one person who might just hate me for it. “I told you about how I moved from foster family to foster family. That was the truth. When I came to live with the Pruitts, Carley started calling me ‘Foster,’ as in her foster brother, and it just caught on. When it came time for the adoption, the Pruitts changed my entire name.”

She blinks at me, unbelieving. “Then you changed it back?”

My jaw clenches, and I nod, the pain bringing me right back to the day I found out I would never have a relationship with my adoptive family again.

“I didn’t have a choice. My adoptive parents didn’t want me anymore after Carley died.” I sigh. “They filed for separation of my adoption while I was in jail, and the paperwork was finalized the day I walked out of there, leaving me without a home, without a place to go. Without a family.”

Evie’s gaze exudes a sympathy I don’t deserve. “The Pruitts thought you did it.”

My jaw tenses again. “The entire world thought I did it. Some still think so. Even you questioned it.”

Evie tilts her head then shakes it as another teardrop falls down her cheek. “I know you didn’t. I just didn’t understand why you felt the need to lie to me about all of this. I still don’t. Especially after we…” She blinks hard before pushing out a huge breath. “How could you expect for us to have a relationship when you were hiding your identity the entire time? Would you have ever told me?”

I hesitate, hating the pain that lances through her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I couldn’t risk you knowing any of this, Evie, especially if I was going to help you regain your memories. You need to understand—I did this for Carley.”

Evie’s shaking hands cover her face briefly before she lets them slip away. “But you were writing about me. In there.” She points.

I look down at the familiar notebooks and nod. “I was.”

“Why?” The anger in her voice tells me she’s sick of asking questions.

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