Page 88 of Lost in the Moonlight

He’d followed me into the bathroom. I could feel his presence, feel the wall of emotions he was experiencing tipping into my own bucket already full of them.

“Willow… Damnit. I’m sorry. But this hasn’t hit the news cycle yet. That picture was from my parents. We still have time to stop it before it comes out.”

I sat back, leaning against the wall, looking up at him as he clutched the top of the doorframe so tightly his fingers turned white. Debate waged war in his eyes.

“I’ve cost my mom everything. I’ve been so damn selfish,” I whispered.

“You haven’t done anything. My mom’s press secretary, Merci, is working on it. She already put a kibosh on another image of me at The Tea Spot.”

“With me?” I asked, gut churning nastily again.

He shook his head. “No, it was just me.”

He closed the distance, hands going to my elbows, lifting me off the ground and wrapping me in a tight embrace. I buried my face in his chest and let his warmth seep into me.

If only we could stay like this.

If only we could get the bubble back.

If only I hadn’t been so stupid and selfish, reaching for what I knew wasn’t mine, reaching for the open flame, all while knowing the consequences.

His phone went off again, and a rumble of objections vibrated through him.

He stepped back, pulled his phone from his pocket, and swore under his breath before tugging me down the hall into the study. He’d shut the shutters the night before when the rocks had been thrown, so the room was dark, but the calm I’d first felt when I’d entered this room, the calm I’d thought had felt like him, was missing entirely now.

How could so much have changed in so little time? As if each moment had been years.

The only other time I’d felt this way was the day Dad had been shot. Those long seconds of watching him die. The hours that had felt like months with the police asking question afterquestion after question on repeat. That had felt like a nightmare. This time with Lincoln had been the opposite. A heavenly dream.

Both had ended in my life changing. Mom’s life being crushed.

I looked at the brass clock sitting next to a golden Buddha on a shelf. Mom would be at dinner with her students. She’d texted me earlier, saying the kids had won, and they were going out to celebrate. They weren’t scheduled to leave Richmond until sometime tomorrow morning.

But she’d never stay. She’d come running.

How was I going to tell her I’d tossed our lives away for a few moments of pleasure?

Chapter Twenty-seven

Lincoln

LOOK AFTER YOU

Performed by The Fray

I glanced over at Willow asmy phone buzzed yet again with my mom’s ringtone. The night before, I’d been concerned Willow would leave thinking I’d used her as a replacement for what I’d lost. This morning, I’d been afraid her fears about her mortality would send her running. And now, I was terrified she’d disappear because my life had just dumped itself in her lap. The Marshals were going to lose their minds if that image of us went public.

My insides tightened, and fury rolled through me. I’d just wanted a few months of peace and solitude. Of anonymity. Was that so much to ask? No one had a right to every second of my life just because my father had chosen to devote himself to this country. I hadn’t agreed to give myself to them.

Had the man in the gray sedan taken the picture? I hadn’t seen him since the day we’d danced in the street, but I had felt eyes on me—had felt them and not done a damn thing about it.I’d been so caught up in Willow, her story, her emotions, as well as my own desire, that I hadn’t protected her like I’d promised.

My fury turned inward as my phone rang a third time.

“Has Merci stopped it?” I asked in lieu of a greeting.

“We’re trying. Merci’s contact atThe Exhibitortold her someone sold them a handful of similar images,” she said calmly. “We’re seeing if they’ll accept a counter-offer in order to not publish them.”

A cold fear washed over me. “There’s more than one?”

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