Page 47 of Chasing Secrets

Yep, it’d definitely had Lincoln’s smell all over it.

It still did even though I’d been wearing it all day. He’d been right, it was too big for me, but rolling up the sleeves and tucking parts of it into my jeans had kept it from practically hanging to my knees. He’d also been right about the heat part. The soft Henley had breathable material that made me feel less smothered every time I went outside.

Lincoln’s fingers closed around mine as soon as he climbed the two steps that led up to the walkway in front of my childhood home. I’d asked Lincoln to drive me to the house after most everyone at Cam and Ford’s house had been preoccupied with other tasks. I’d told Ford where we were going, fully expecting him to offer to take me, but when he’d seen Lincoln walking toward his car, something had changed in Ford’s expression. The disappointment that I’d asked Lincoln rather than him had been easy to see at first but then something had changed, and Ford had looked more…something. Content maybe? He’d probably just been glad to not have to interrupt his painting to play chauffeur.

Lincoln and I had joined the family for breakfast that morning, which had been raucous to say the least. It was then that we’d both learned Princess Puddles was in a family way. The conversation had ranged from something about suing a couple of men named Dallas and Nolan for puppy support to an argument about the supposed puppy daddy not having the right stuff to knock Puddles up.

I’d had to do everything in my power not to laugh at the crazy conversation, but every time I’d glanced at Lincoln and saw him trying to subdue his own humor, I’d had to shove a piece of omelet in my mouth. At one point Walter had asked Lincoln about doggie vasectomies going bad and some swimmers being left over, and I’d nearly choked on the deer-in-headlights look on Lincoln’s face. I’d loved watching his face turn beet red as he’d tried to diplomatically explain that such a thing was unlikely. By the time breakfast had been finished, I’d realized that so had my omelet. I’d eaten the whole thing without even thinking about it.

Lincoln and I had managed to sneak out of the house separately after he had gone through Walter’s morning physical therapy exercises with him, and we’d met up at the spot on the trail where it split off toward the stream. We’d talked about easy things like most and least favorite foods, movies, that kind of thing. When we’d gotten to the topic of books, everything had changed because many of the ones he’d said were his favorites were mine too.

We’d sat in our spot by the stream and waited for the black dog which I’d started calling Nacho too, but the animal hadn’t appeared. We’d left the treats we’d brought for him anyway, and as we’d walked back to the house, I’d asked Lincoln if he’d be able to leave Walter long enough to drive me to the home I’d lived in as a child. He’d immediately said yes even before I’d gotten a chance to tell him it was only a few miles away.

“There used to be a lot more flowers,” I murmured as I stared at the front yard. “My mom loved to garden.”

“Your parents don’t live here anymore?” Lincoln asked carefully.

I shook my head. I hadn’t even realized that I hadn’t told him that. He’d probably been worried that we were coming here for some kind of confrontation. “Sorry, I should have told you that. They moved to Phoenix a long time ago.” I paused before adding, “I just wanted to see it one more time.”

I was glad when he didn’t ask why because I didn’t really know myself. Instead, Lincoln gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. The move made something inside of me loosen a little.

Like a rubber band that had been stretched to its breaking point before finally being released enough that it wasn’t on the verge of snapping.

“It doesn’t even look the same, but I can still feel it like it was yesterday,” I murmured.

“Feel what?” Lincoln asked.

“That last day. The one when they sent me away.” I looked down at where we were standing. “I let my bike fall down there,” I said as I glanced at the bottom of the two steps just behind us. “I was supposed to always put it in the garage and use the kickstand, but my arm hurt so bad and blood just kept sliding over my lips until it was all I could taste.”

“What happened when you went inside?” he asked.

“I thought my mom would scream when she saw all the blood. I had this vision of her sitting in the back seat of the car holding a towel against my nose and keeping me pressed up against her side as best she could so my arm wouldn’t get jarred as my dad raced us to the hospital.”

I sighed and looked around the overgrown yard again. I wondered about the new owners. Were they older? Younger? Career people who didn’t have enough time to keep the white picket fence painted and the grass cut? Maybe they had kids who kept them too busy to worry about keeping the window boxes filled with vibrant yet color-coordinated flowers?

I remembered that I’d been in the process of answering Lincoln’s question. “I think I told you what really happened that day already,” I mused.

“Tell me again,” he urged.

“They didn’t say a word when I walked in. I doubted Jimmy or his mom actually told them what Jimmy had done to me, so I don’t think they even realized my arm was broken. But there was so much blood that I thought…”

“You thought it would get a reaction out of them,” Lincoln finished for me.

“There was just silence and tears of disappointment at first, then a lot of scripture being repeated over and over, as well as a lot of them asking what they’d done wrong to end up with a sinful child.” I let out a harsh laugh. “I almost said it probably had something to do with all the affairs my father had been having for most of my life and for all the illegally acquired prescription painkillers my mother would swallow like candy when she thought no one was looking.” I sighed and added, “I guess I should be grateful that I was in too much pain to say anything at all. They sent me to my room and told me to pray for God’s forgiveness, and twenty-four hours later I was walking through the gates of hell on earth.”

I could feel the chill building inside me, and I knew it was because I’d said too much and tiny cracks were starting to spread throughout the wall I’d built up in my head.

“Lincoln?” I asked even as I continued to stare at the house.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could just drive around a bit?”

The fingers gripping mine tightened.

“I think we can do that,” Lincoln said, his voice light. I mentally thanked him for not pressing the issue that I, myself, had brought up. When he led me back to the car and opened the passenger side door for me, my eyes met his and it was all I could do not to lean over the top of the door and kiss him.

“How about some ice cream first? Cam told me about this little custard stand in Amsterdam that makes the best shakes,” he suggested.

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