I grab her bag and push it at her, laughing. “Of course I’m sure, go on, get. Go enjoy that boy of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She grins, taking her bag from my hands and slides her books from the counter into it. “Thank you. You absolutely will. I’ll grab coffee and meet you in the parking lot.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say as I walk her to the front door. I disable the alarm and open the door to let her out. “Have fun.”
She practically skips to her car, waving once she’s buckled in. I open the gate from the remote system as she reaches it and wait for the lock to engage before resetting the alarm. Some might call the level of security I have here overkill, but all things considered, I don’t think even Fort Knox would be overkill at this point. I’ve been attacked in my home twice, and Smithy was attacked once. That’s three times too many, and I’m not willing to take chances anymore.
After making sure all of the doors and windows are shut, I manage not to run up the stairs tonight, and I mark that down as progress. At this point, I’ll literally claim any win I can. I head straight to my bathroom as I put my hair up in a messy bun and jump in the shower to wash the day off. It’s been unseasonably warm today, and I feel kind of gross.
I pad my way into my room in my towel, grabbing a pair of boy shorts and a tank from my dresser along the way. It’s way too warm for full pajamas, and I open the balcony to let some of the cool night air into the room. The smell of the flowers from the trellis filters in, and I smile. Wild roses are some of my absolute favorites.
It doesn’t take me long to brush out my hair, then shut my balcony door before climbing into bed. I feel so fucking tired after the last few days that it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull me under.
I wake up screaming less than forty minutes later and bury my face into my pillow. All I want is one night of sleep—just one—so I set up my podcasts again and try to calm myself enough to sleep. When I see that it’s two in the morning on the screen of my phone, I groan.
As sleep finally starts to pull me under once more, I hear noises outside and freeze. I want to move, to run away, but I’m paralyzed by fear. My fight or flight response is, apparently, just die. Awesome.
The balcony door creaks, and I manage to get control of myself. I flip over, sitting up to face the door, and see Lincoln stalking toward me in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
He glares at me and climbs right into my fucking bed.
“What are you doing?” I screech, my fear and anger mashing together.
I grab the sheets, fully ready to kick his ass out when he lies down, grumbling, “I can hear you screaming from my room. Now lie down and sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”
I scoff.The audacity of this guy.But as he pulls me onto the bed, I can’t deny how much safer I feel with him here. Which is ridiculous considering I’m pretty sure he’s the cause of my nightmares, but I never claimed I made sense.
I turn my back to him and close my eyes, feeling him move closer to me as he tucks me against his chest, his arm draped over me. Sleep is already dragging me under, so I don’t bother complaining. I’m not sure it’d make a difference anyway. As I start to slip away, I hear him murmur, “You don’t need to cry anymore. I’m here now.”
* * *
When I wake up, Lincoln’s long gone, and for a minute, I think I dreamed of him being here. Until I roll over and catch his scent on the pillow.
So fucking weird.
Him being here was not what I expected when I heard someone climbing the trellis.
Lincoln Saint doesn’t seem like the type to sneak in my window anymore. I didn’t think he cared enough to even notice my screams.
But apparently, I am Jon Snow because I appear to know nothing.
I play it all over again in my head, trying desperately to work out why he would come over here. I eventually decide that I’m not going to figure out the enigma that is Lincoln Saint without coffee, if I can even work him out at all.
I try to push it from my mind and get ready for the day. I shoot Smithy a message to check in on him and his sister. They’re a few hours behind me, so hopefully I don’t wake him. Once I roll out of bed, I head to the shower, trying to clear my mind a little. I slept like the fucking dead after Lincoln came over, and I still feel dazed.
The shower helps a bit, but after I’m dressed, I still stumble down to the coffee pot like it holds all of the answers to life. As I’m waiting for it to brew, my phone buzzes, and I smile when I see Smithy’s name.
Smithy: Good Morning, Miss Octavia **smiley face emoji** My sister has taken a turn for the better and things are looking up. I can be home in a few weeks, I hope. Just need to get her back home and settled with a nursing team.
Me: I’m so glad! You don’t have to rush, things are all quiet here now. Take care of your sister, I’m absolutely fine.
Smithy: If you say so. I did, however, arrange for a grocery delivery. It will be put away before you’re back from school. I asked Mrs. Potts, who looks after the Saint household, to sort it out for you. Master Saint will ensure the alarm system is sorted out.
Me: Smithy, you rock.
I open the refrigerator and wince. I probably should have thought to go shopping myself considering how bare it is in there.
Smithy: I know. I’ve asked her to prepare you some meals so you don’t live off of take out too.