We’re fine. Safe. Something came up and I wanted to talk to you instead of type to you. I’ll be up for a while. Give me a call when you have a chance.
I sit down at his desk and open the drawer to the right. There’s all the normal junk you’d assume would be in a man’s desk. The drawer to the right has some folders without labels. I pull them out and open the one on top and see a mugshot of Autumn Glass. I click on the desk lamp and it beams right on her face, like a beacon of evil. The resemblance is there, but oddly I see more of Rena in her than I do of myself. Maybe it’s because I know what they’ve both done. There’re articles and papers on Autumn’s crimes, and at the bottom of the stack there it is, a tiny piece of orphanage intake paperwork for Maeve Glass, three years old, and a little stamped birth certificate.
“Three?” I say my age out loud.
Where was I before that? It has a couple sentences in the description box that says I was rescued by authorities on the street when my under-aged birth mother was arrested. Arrested for what? The panicky feeling in my throat grips me. There’s so much I don’t know, but will soon, if all this crap with Rena doesn’t prevent me from making the girl’s trip a reality. I have to deal with this first. Now I’m left with more questions. Why wasn’t Rena with me at the orphanage? How did she luck out? Where was she? I close the folder when my eyes gloss over. My phone rings and I pick it up.
“Lincoln,” I say, even though I didn’t look at the screen. “I have to tell you something.”
“That’s why I’m calling. What’s up?” He’s out of breath—legitimately breathing heavy. What in the hell is he doing?
“Rena is back.” The only three words that could melt away the security we’ve built up. “I’ve already talked to Chip and they have security on the way.” I walk over to the window that overlooks the road out front and don’t see any vehicles out of place. “She stopped by Riley’s house and was asking about our schedules.”
He’s still breathing heavy on the end of the line, and it’s changed from exertion to fury.
I reassure him, “We’re fine. They’ll be able to catch her, Lincoln. I think this might actually be a good thing.”
More ragged breathing, and I immediately regret not waiting until he returns to tell him.
“Please don’t worry about us. I am fully capable of handling things at home.” I stumble on. “I know that’s easier said than done, but Ramona and Aspen are spending the night and the security system is bigger and badder than ever.”
He did updates and added even more trigger points when I moved in. I think it was supposed to make me feel better, but it only makes me feel more vulnerable.
“Lincoln,” I say his name like a plea.
“I knew she couldn’t leave it alone. I knew it. Why do I believe her? Why did I ever believe anything she’s ever said? Why didn’t I shoot her down the second I entered the room like anyone else would have? The second I knew she was a threat? Maeve, it’s my fault she’s still breathing. She wouldn’t be on our fucking street or at the fucking neighbor’s house if she ceased to breathe.”
Clearing my throat, I try to control my emotions when I sense Lincoln’s are roiling. “You’re not like her, that’s why she’s still breathing.”
“Fuck that. I let her kill Stavros because I was too weak to pull the trigger. Never again. Do you hear me? I will never let that woman slip through my fingers again.” More ragged breathing, and I hear gunshots in the distance, and my heart thuds. “I can’t leave. They need me.” His whisper is jagged and full of pain. “Are you sure you’re safe? At least until I get back from this mission?”
Mission? Not a training trip at all.
I swallow hard. “Of course. Focus. Focus as hard as you can on what you’re doing, Lincoln. I will protect Turner. Rena won’t get close to us. She won’t.”
“I’ll call you when I can.” The line goes dead and I’m left with dread. How much can he possibly trust me with Turner?
I draw trouble and Lincoln is probably upset with his decision to bring me into their lives even further. The pit in my stomach hardens as I let all my insecurities slip in.You’re better off gone. You’re not worthy of them. You aren’t worthy of love. No one wants you. You’ll just kill them. You’re not cursed, you’re just an unworthy human. You’re weak. He’ll leave you the second he gets home.
Tears prick my eyes as all my childhood trauma creeps back in. This is when I should call my old therapist and tell her everything I’m dealing with. That I’m not fixed anymore. That Rena broke me. I put my head down and I cry. For the little girl trapped without any options. The same one who had to hide food and learn how to run faster than a grown male at a young age. I would relish the feeling of burning lungs because it meant I was escaping some form of torture. The dank, moldy smell of the cafeteria at the orphanage, and the pitying looks of the women who worked there and knew what was happening to us in the foster homes. All of it rips me wide open now that I know where I came from.Why me? Why couldn’t I have had just one loving family?I know they existed because friends would write me letters and tell me about their good fortune, the birthday cakes they were given, and the toys they got to unwrap at Christmas. It came down to luck, and it’s evident in what life has dragged me through, I don’t have much of it.
The drawer is still open, and I make a move to close it and erase Autumn Glass from my mind, but another paper with my name on it catches my eye. It’s not in a folder, it’s loose. I pull it out, half amazed Lincoln cares for me enough to do his own research, but also scared of what I might find next. Tugging the corner, the sheet comes out. Petition for Adoption is printed at the top. In Lincoln’s small, tidy handwriting, he’s filled in the blank that says Child Name: Turner Wilds, and Adopting Mother’s Name: Maeve Ahern. As tears fall, I run my finger over my name, and then Turner’s. If I’m waiting for a sign, this is it.
Chapter 11
Lincoln
I blow through the front door like a tornado. My mind not being able to calm until I see them unharmed. I’ve talked to Maeve several times since that fateful call. When she told me Rena was stalking around our house, we still had three days left. Chonk rushes me as Maeve and Turner stand from the couch. “Daddy!” Turner squeals, running into my arms first. Maeve looks on fondly. She has a marker in her hand and I see they were coloring on the coffee table.
She hugs me from the side so as not to disturb Turner’s aggressive love. “I missed you, buddy.” I kiss him roughly and inhale the sweet scent of his hair.Safe.
“I colored you a picture! I’ll show you,” he says, wiggling out of my arms.
“And you. My God, the relief I feel at seeing you.” My voice shakes. “Touching you.”
“I’m fine,” she says. “Everything is fine.”
I remember what Isaac told me about that word.