Page 127 of Lost in the Moonlight

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They wheeled him directly into surgery, and I was shown to a waiting room. For a brief moment, I was alone, until Sienna appeared again, shimmering through the wall and pacing around the room. Which was when I saw the wound at the back of her head, the missing part of her skull. My stomach lurched once more.

For a long time, she didn’t say anything, just meeting my gaze with a steely one. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the doors of the waiting room flew open, and my family ran in—Mom, Hector, and Shay.

Mom had me in her arms before I could say a word, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. Then, more people showed up—Axel, James, and their men.

James wanted my statement. She wanted to know how we’d known Aaron was in the house.

My gaze strayed to Sienna. She was standing in the corner now, tracing a finger over a brow in much the way Lincoln did.

I swallowed, body shaking as I told them Lincoln had heard something, which was basically the truth. He’d heard Sienna, but I wasn’t telling them that. Couldn’t tell them that. They’d think we were both off our rockers. But I told them everything else I knew. How he’d had me hide. How I’d heard them fighting in the hall and came out with the lamp.

The door opened again to reveal men in black suits with Secret Service pins on their lapels.

Behind them, Lincoln’s mom appeared with her eyes wild and worried, and after her, the president of the United States walked in. His face was grim and dark, but he looked so much like Lincoln that it hit me in the chest. Those bright blue eyes matched his son’s perfectly.

Silence took over for a second, and then Cordelia rushed toward me, grabbing my hands that were still covered in Lincoln’s blood. “Tell me what they’ve said.”

I swallowed over the lump in my throat and told her what the EMT had told me.

Relief washed over her. “Thank God.”

She held my hand with one of hers and then reached for Guy Matherton’s with the other. He moved in, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple. How many times had Lincoln done the same to me? A fist squeezed my lungs.

“I’ve sent Daringfield to find out more,” the president told his wife.

His eyes found mine, serious and assessing but mostly just worried.

The tears I’d held back finally came, streaming down my cheeks like a heavy rain. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so s-sorry.”

My mom was there, on the other side of me, pulling me from Cordelia’s hold. “This isn’t your fault, kiddo. This isn’t on you.”

“He came for me. He came for me and shot Lincoln!”

I turned into her, face to her shoulder, while she ran a hand up my back like she had hundreds of times in my life, attempting to comfort me. Just like she had the night Dad had died.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Mom murmured.

And again, it was just like that night, when I’d been covered with Dad’s blood.

Tremors ransacked my body.

I let Mom lead me down the hall to a single-stall bathroom. I washed my hands and looked up into the mirror to see blood on my neck and face. I scrubbed at those as well. My shirt was covered with it. Mom unzipped the sweatshirt she was wearing with the logo of Cherry Bay’s high school and held it out to me. Underneath it, she had on only a pajama top.

“Put it on,” she said when I didn’t move.

I pulled off my T-shirt and slid into the sweatshirt, immediately cocooned in her warmth and smell. Reassurance. Comfort. But for the first time in my life, it wasn’t her solace I sought. I wanted Lincoln’s arms. I wanted Lincoln’s soft words soothing me.

“He’s going to be okay,” Mom said.

I nodded. He had to be.

I needed a minute. A minute alone to gather my thoughts. To pull myself together and stop the torrent of tears.

“I need to pee.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll just be outside. If you don’t come out in five minutes, I’m coming back in.”

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