“I know, Blue. You have your words, and I have you. I think it’s fair. I’ll be right back.”

Lincoln brings me a blank notebook and four pencils, and then leaves the room with the promise that he won’t go far.

I lose track of time writing lines about how I feel. The storm raging in this town. The secrets, the lies, the death and pain. I have to purge it from me, like it’s some kind of toxin infecting my bloodstream more every second I don’t put the feelings down on paper.

Every page I flip, I feel a small measure of calm return, and my hand trembles a little less.

When my fingers cramp and my wrist aches, I lay the last pencil down and can finally breathe again. I inhale slowly and let the breath out.

No matter what happens, we will be fine. I repeat the mantra over and over.

Nothing can tear us apart. Not now. Lincoln and I are stronger together than we are apart, and I’m not the Whitney Gable who runs and hides.

Not anymore.

Now I’m the Whitney Gable who stands beside the man she loves and fights when the world tries to break us.

With that vow in my mind, I leave the room to find Lincoln sitting outside the door.

“You really didn’t go far, did you?”

“I’ll never go further from you than I have to.”

I hold out my hand, and he rises.

“I love you, Whitney. Promise me—”

I press a finger to his lips. “You don’t even need to ask. I swear that no matter what comes next, you and I are rock solid. I’m done running. I know where I belong, and that’s with you.”

His eyes close as he whispers, “Thank you, God.” And he crushes me to his chest. “We’re not going to make it to dinner.”

Lincoln pushes open the door of the bedroom that I just exited, and together we stumble back inside. He kicks the door shut. We strip each other naked like two crazy people, and there’s only one thought on my mind.

“I need you now. Right now. Fast. Hard.”

“Whatever you need, I got you.” Lincoln grips my hips and lifts me so my legs wrap around his hips. He backs me up until my spine touches the wall. “This is gonna be rough.”

“I don’t care. That’s what I want.”

With my body pinned between his hips and the wallcovering, Lincoln sweeps his thumb over my lower lips to find me soaked.

“How?” He lifts his gaze to mine.

“The last song I wrote . . . it was about us.”

“And it made you wet?”

I nod.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I’m not going to ask questions. Not now.”

“Good, because I’m done talking.”

Lincoln’s done talking too. He positions his cock at my entrance, and I grip his shoulders tighter as he plunges inside me with a single stroke.