Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I stop brushing my wet hair and just look at him for a few seconds. We haven’t been apart for very long, but it feels like we have.
He showered, too, and his face is clean-shaven. He’s wearing a pair of surgical scrubs.
“I wanted to see you before I leave,” he says, his expression turning serious.
My heart sinks. I knew this had to happen, but it feels more alarming than I thought it would.
“I have so much to say that I don’t even know where to begin,” I say. “And also, I have nothing to say. Is that weird?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. I’m going to miss those crinkles. “Not at all. I feel the same way. I got your number from Dalton, though, so obviously, I’ll call you.”
I nod, looking at the ground and then back up at him. “Does he...know?”
He shrugs. “He pretty much guessed when the doctors had to forcibly remove me from your room when we got here, but we didn’t talk about it a lot.”
“You’re doing okay, though?”
“Yeah. Everything’s a little overwhelming, but...I’m good. How about you? Any aftereffects from the sedation?”
“I am pretty tired. But I’m going to wait for my sub sandwich before I go back to sleep. If you hear a woman orgasming loudly on your way out here, that’s me when I take my first bite of bread in three months.”
His eyes twinkle. “I definitely know what that sounds like.”
There’s a flip in my stomach. I have so many questions, but I can’t ask any of them. Someone knocks on the door and Lincoln calls out. “Give us a minute. Almost done.”
He comes over to me. “I have to go. The team sent PR people and it sounds like getting out of here is going to be a thing. We’re going to have a blond intern from the hospital leave with us, so hopefully the reporters will think it’s you and leave.”
I won’t let myself cry. This should be a moment of celebration, not a time for tears. This is everything we wanted—we were rescued. But deep down inside myself, in a place I don’t want anyone to see, it feels like a part of me is about to walk out the door.
He steps forward to hug me, and I fly into his arms. He holds me tightly, sighing heavily.
“I’ll miss you, Trin.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” So much for not crying; my tears are leaking onto the shoulder of his scrub shirt.
“I’ll call you soon. And if you need anything, anytime, call me.” He takes a half step back, cradling my face in his hands. “Tell me you’ll call me, even if it’s two in the morning and you just want to ask what flavor of Oreos you should eat.”
I smile through my tears. “The ones with the chocolate stuffing are the best. I dream of a world where I can get double-stuffed chocolate stuffing. And yes, I’ll call. Same goes for you, okay?”
He leans his forehead against mine. “Yeah. And about the guy who was stalking you...I hired a private detective agency to follow him around the clock for a while. I don’t want either of us worrying about that on top of everything else. If he tries to get close to you, they’ll intervene.”
Either of us. How did I not immediately fall for him?
“I don’t know what to say, Linc, other than thank you.”
The knock on the door is louder this time. He glares at the back of the door.
“You better go,” I say.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll call you. Get some sleep. After your sandwich.”
I nod and he steps away. He takes my hand and squeezes it, holding on until he has to let go as he walks toward the door.
“Bye, Trin.”
I hold up a hand. “Bye, Linc.”
He walks out the door, closing it behind him. I sit down on the edge of my bed, reality setting in.
Lincoln’s gone. Our cabin fling is just a memory now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lincoln
My teammates gape at me when I walk into the locker room, our goalie Lucas wiping the corner of his eye.
“You are the ugliest fuckin’ ghost I’ve ever seen,” Archer Holt says, approaching me with open arms and a grin.
When I hug him, the room seems to collectively exhale. I step back and look around at all the faces I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again when Trin and I were searching for shelter.
I told her a lot about my teammates when we were at the cabin. Not just their individual personalities but also stories from the locker room, games and vacations we’ve taken together.
Dane Foster, whose devil-may-care attitude means he’s usually the talk of the team, embraces me tightly. He was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning on a summer trip to Mexico, and none of us were surprised he hooked up with one of his nurses during this stay—and got her to sneak him a beer.