“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know, but also . . . there are no strings. You can tell me to turn around right now and take you home, and the offer still stands. Whatever happens between you and me has absolutely nothing to do with that.”

“And yet your timing of telling me is so convenient.” The skepticism in my voice is clear.

Lincoln’s brows dive together. “Yeah, it is. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night thinking you fucked up your aunt’s life by coming home.”

“Oh.” My reply is quiet.

“You can think I’m the bad guy all you want, Blue. Sometimes I am. There are plenty of things I won’t hesitate to use to my advantage to get what I want from you, but I won’t manipulate you through your family. I’m above that.”

For some reason, I actually believe him. Maybe because he’s being honest about his intentions.

“Then I guess I should thank you.” It feels strange to say the words, but I mean them.

“You don’t need to thank me. It was my mother’s fault to begin with. She never should’ve said those things to you.”

“She’ll always hate me.” I look out the window as shame pools in my belly about what happened ten years ago. Even if it wasn’t my fault, I still carry the burden of it on my soul. “You should hate me too.”

Lincoln waits until I turn back toward him to speak. His expression is completely solemn. “I don’t hate you. I never have. I never could. You didn’t do it, and neither did I. I’ve moved on. I think it’s time for you to let go too.”

Forty-Seven

Lincoln

The past

As soon as I pulled my head out of my ass and realized what the fuck I’d done, I ran outside. Whitney was gone. I ran barefoot down the gravel drive, but there was no sign of her.

Fuck.

She’d run off once before and hitched a ride, but that was daylight. Now it was fucking raining, pitch black, and anyone could have picked her up.

“Fuck!” I roared at the storming sky, cursing my temper and how I let Rango get to me.

Regardless of whether Whitney actually did what he said, I shouldn’t have thrown her out. I regretted it almost as soon as she walked out the door.

But not soon enough.

I ran back up the driveway, gravel biting at the soles of my feet as the rain soaked me through.

What kind of piece of shit throws a woman out in the middle of the night in the rain? Me.

I had to make sure she got home okay. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her.

I grabbed my phone, dialing her number, but it went to voice mail with no answer. Palming my keys, I rushed back out of the cabin, the door slamming behind me.