Page 91 of Lost in the Moonlight

“You’re both familiar with detail coverage. We’ll need your schedule for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours at a minimum. If you’re going out of town, I’ll need longer notice to ensure we have those locations secure. We’ll also need a list of people you want to allow access to you and your homes. I’ll add a few more men to the roster to make sure the house across the street is covered as well as this one.” Like every security person I’d worked with, he was calm, emotionless, exuding confidence.

I hated it. I hated having it back in my life when I’d finally walked away from it. But then, I felt Willow’s shoulders relax, and the hatred disappeared. If this was what it took to ensure she was safe, it was an easy sacrifice. I’d sell my own soul, my dirty laundry, all my secrets, to make sure nothing ever hurt her again.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Willow

LOOK AT ME

Performed by Carrie Underwood

As Lincoln and Axel went toreview his security system and the camera setup, I made my way to the cupboards and started pulling together the ingredients for a cake I was going to use as the base below the individual miniature desserts for my new piece. I wasn’t really in a mindset to create, but making the cake would keep me busy so the doubts and worries didn’t settle in.

Lincoln’s family may have stopped the pictures from being released, but they were still out there. They didn’t know who’d taken them. And Axel may be able to find out who it was, but would it be before more emerged?

After panic and worry had caused me to throw up, a weird numbness had descended on me. Lincoln had tried to push past it several times. Our argument about whether or not to disclose I was in witness protection had tried to slash into it, but then it had settled back over me.

It was too late to take back my selfish mistakes.

Too late to be strong.

I’d already hurt Lincoln and Mom.

That thought caused pain to twist like a knife again, threatening to push aside the numbness.

But I pulled the cold detachment back over me and concentrated on the recipe I could almost make in my sleep. I was just getting ready to pour the batter into the waiting pan when my phone rang, and Mom’s face appeared on the screen.

I almost cried just at the sight of it—from relief but also sadness and dread.

“You sounded scared on your voicemail, Willow. Did Poco bother you again?” Her voice was full of worry. Fear. I hated that I was responsible for it this time.

“I messed up,” I choked out, dropping the bowl on the counter, tugging at my dad’s ring.

She inhaled sharply, holding her breath before breathing out softly and saying, “We all make mistakes, kiddo. Even nearly perfect humans like you sometimes do. Want to tell me about it?”

“Lincoln…” I choked again, losing my breath. Losing my way. I’d been lured by hope and connection and the beauty of a man I couldn’t have. And now I had to tell her I’d tossed our lives away for a few moments of pleasure.

“Did he hurt you?” The ferocity of her tone made me realize the direction I’d sent her in.

“No. God no. He’s kind and generous.” Tears threatened, but I shoved them back with the heels of my hands. Tears did nothing. They were a release valve, but they couldn’t change anything.

“Okay,” she said, the relief in her voice clear. “So what’s wrong?”

“He’s Lincoln Matherton.”

It took her a minute to catch up. To put the name together with the actual person. “Willow… Shit.”

“It all happened so fast, Mom. It wasn’t anything… He was just helping me with Poco, and then…” I trailed off.

She gave a little huff somewhere between humor and frustration. “And then you started dating the president’s son.”

It was so much more than dating. In some strange way, we’d gone from nothing to everything in a heartbeat.

“We had a scare tonight… Some photographs of us were taken, and his family stopped them from coming out. Lincoln has hired someone to try to figure out who took them. And before you start, I know I have to stop seeing him. I know that. And I will—"

“Now that’s enough to makemewant to cry,” Mom said, breaking me out of my spiral.

“What?” I croaked.

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