“I know what you did to me, Lincoln,” she replied, her eyes flashing.
Her use of my full name made me angrier. “No. You think you do, but you don’t.”
“How dare you show up today, walk back into my life as if the last ten years didn’t happen?”
I stalked closer, so we were inches apart. I wanted to push her past the breaking point. I wanted to break through the rigid shell she had around herself and find Sunny. To make her see Linc.
“I go anywhere I please, sweetheart. You might not realize it, but I own the building your shop is in.” I pointed toward the window. “I own every goddamn place in the town, just like my father did.”
“Is that a threat, Lincoln? Is that what happened to you? You became your father?”
“Maybe I did,” I lied. “Maybe whatever thoughts you have of me now are right. Maybe I am a bastard like he was.”
“The boy I loved wasn’t a bastard.”
“But he fucked you and left, isn’t that how you see it?”
Her slap echoed in the room, my head snapping back from the force. We stared at each other, locked in a wordless war. I smiled grimly.
“How appropriate you hit me here, in this room. This is where he always beat me. Right here.” I crossed the room to the center of the rug. “He’d start here—usually with a punch in the ribs, or kidneys if my back was turned. Once he had me down, he’d add a few more punches or use his feet. Those hurt, you know? Usually it was because I had been with you or couldn’t account for every penny I’d spent. Again, usually because I made sure I left money in your house to help your family. Or he’d beat me because of my arrogance in thinking I deserved to make a decision for myself. Or sometimes because he fucking liked it. It made him feel better, and god forbid Franklin Thomas ever not feel good.” By the end, I was shouting. I strode back to her, all my anger boiling over. “So, do it, Sunny. Hit me. Hit me until you feel better. One of us might as well.”
Our eyes met—enraged, crazed blue clashing with bewildered, shocked brown. Silence hung between us, the only sounds my panting breaths and Sunny’s muffled sobs, her hand covering her mouth as tears leaked down her cheeks.
Wait.
Why was she crying?
“Sunny?”
“I-I… Oh god, Linc.”
The next thing I knew, her arms were around my neck and her lips on mine. Shock rendered me still for a moment, then every sense in my body came alive. I dragged her tight to my chest, kissing her like a starving man who had been offered the feast of a lifetime.
It was nothing like the kisses we had shared in the past. It was redemption and grief. Longing and need. Passion and hate. Love and hurt. Forgiveness and healing.
I lifted her off her feet, wrapping her in my arms. She was no longer a tiny, waiflike girl. She was a lovely woman with curves that fit in my hands as if they were made for me and me alone.
Because they were.
However much pain we had to go through, whatever secrets and scars we had to rip open to get back to finding us, I was determined it would happen. I wasn’t losing her again.7Linc“I’m sorry,” she pleaded after our mouths separated. “Linc, I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, Sunny. It’s fine. I deserved that slap.”
“I’ve never hit anyone,” she hiccuped. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Hey,” I murmured, waiting until she met my gaze, her eyes sad and red-rimmed. “It’s fine, baby. Considering how much you work with your hands, you’re not very strong. It didn’t even hurt.”
Her lips quirked at my words, but she laid her hand on my cheek in a tender gesture. I leaned into her caress, the memories of her touch making me feel more alive than I had in years.
“Where did you go?” she whispered. “Why did you leave me?”
I set her down on her feet and took her hand, leading her to the small sofa in the corner. “My father.” I frowned as I let the memory of that night come back. “I was on such a high after our night together, I went for a walk after taking you to your cabin. I sat on the dock for a while, thinking. Of you. Of us. What I wanted to do when we got home. Our future.”
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
I smiled, lifting her hand to my mouth and kissing it. Her skin was still soft, although she had small calluses on her fingertips and palm from her constant work. I stroked them, feeling her life on her skin.
“When I went back to my room, my father was there, waiting. He had seen us that day in town, Sunny. He was furious. More than I had ever seen him. He told me to pack up and that we were leaving. I argued and told him off, but he pulled three documents from his pocket and gave them to me.”