16. Arden
16
ARDEN
I was pretty sure my brain was short-circuiting, or maybe I was having some sort of stroke. “You’re going to what?”
“I’m going to stay with you,” Linc said as easily as if he’d stated he was going to get a glass of water.
“There’s only one bedroom.” The words tumbled out of my mouth on instinct, anything that would keep some distance between me and the walking temptation that was Lincoln.
He simply pinned me with that swirling hazel stare. “Then stay here.”
I shook my head. “I can only sleep in my room.”
That was a stretch. Sleep never came easily to me. Even in the bedroom that had been mine for years. But at least I felt safe and secure there. It wasn’t like I thought someone would take me out if I stayed elsewhere, but I felt at ease in my space because it was mine . There was comfort in the routine of what I knew.
A look of understanding settled into Linc’s features—one I didn’t want to look too closely at. “Then I’ll sleep on your couch. You do have one of those, don’t you? ”
“Yes, I have a couch,” I snapped.
I opened my mouth to tell him it was lumpy and uncomfortable and certainly not suited for a billionaire likely used to the best beds money could buy, but Trace cut me off.
“Are you two done? I need to go get this note processed.”
I snapped my mouth closed, but annoyance still swirled, and guilt came fast on its heels. Because they were both being overbearing because they cared. But it still felt like control of my life was being wrested out of my hands. “I’ll walk you out.”
I stalked toward Trace and Linc but kept right on walking, assuming Trace would follow. Stepping outside, I breathed deeply, letting the fresh pine scent in the air slide through me. It was different than the evergreens back in Boston.
Even now, I could still grab hold of those hints of memory. Playing in my backyard surrounded by tall trees. The crisp air as the leaves began to fall. The air there had been sharper somehow. But maybe that was my imagination simply because life had been sharper. Harsher.
“Arden?” Trace’s hand gently landed on my shoulder, and I fought the urge to move away.
The impulse had tears burning the backs of my eyes. Why was it always my instinct to retreat from those who cared about me when I was hurting? As if I needed to crawl back into my shell to protect myself from the possible pain.
Trace’s hand dropped away as if he could read those thoughts as clear as day. But he was the sibling best at that: reading below whatever surface we painted with any sort of lie. “We’re going to figure this out.”
My hand dropped to my side, fingers twisting around a loose thread on my jean shorts. “I know.”
“I’m here if you need to talk. Always.”
Pain burrowed deep in my chest. Trace was too good. Every single member of the Colson crew was. And I couldn’t help feeling that I didn’t deserve any of them. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He pulled me into a quick hug and dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “Do me a favor and don’t kick Linc to the curb. You do, and I’ll be sleeping outside your house in my truck.”
I sighed, knowing Trace wasn’t kidding. “You know I can handle myself. You’ve seen it.”
“I know you can. But I also like knowing someone has your back, and Kye said the guy can handle himself.”
An image of Linc in the ring filled my mind: the way he moved with a brutal grace, how every move was both strategic and wild, tightly corded muscle bunching and flexing, revealing just how much power lay beneath the surface. And then there was that surprising ink. The kind that told me he was anything but what I’d expected.
“Is that silence agreement?” Trace pushed.
I blinked a few times, trying to clear the images from my mind, but I knew it would do me no good. Those memories were burned into me. “I’ll let him stay.”
Tension seeped from Trace’s shoulders, which only sent more guilt sliding through me. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”
“Okay.” I watched as Trace climbed into his SUV and drove away. I stayed there for one moment, then two, the pressure in my chest intensifying. It was as if I were being crushed under an endless mountain of bricks, making it hard to breathe.
I was so lost in the sensation and trying to work through it that I didn’t hear Linc until he was right at my back.
“Tell me what you need.” His voice was low—not gentle, but not forceful either. And it bled kindness, understanding.
That simple act had the burn behind my eyes returning. “I need to paint.”
“Then paint. I’ll walk you.”
My gaze flicked up to him. “I don’t need?—”
“Just because you don’t need it, doesn’t mean I won’t give it to you anyway. Not taking any chances. Not with you.”
I swallowed, trying to clear the emotion clogging my throat. I reached for something, anything to lighten the mood and stop the foreign feeling from trying to invade. “Don’t think you’re getting food or sex just because you’re staying with me.”
Linc’s lips twitched, and those green-gold eyes danced with amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind, Vicious.”
Then he walked me to my studio and checked every nook and cranny before allowing me inside. And I let him.
The music blared from the speakers, wrapping around me, pulsing through me. It was hard, screaming metal tonight. A sad, raw rage coursing through my stereo system. And it fit my mood.
I took a step back from the painting. Almost done. But it needed something else. One last piece of the puzzle.
That happened sometimes. I could think a creation was finished, but then I would realize something wasn’t quite right. That it needed one last element to bring everything into focus.
I studied the canvas and the way the thorny brambles clawed at the fabric, looking like they could reach out and ensnare you. But those deep red blooms gave it something else. Hope. The realization that a flower could bloom despite its circumstances.
It was the message I needed to tell myself. The thing I needed so desperately to believe. So, I’d put it down on canvas.
But what was it missing?
I studied it for another beat. It needed the realness. The authenticity. The part of me I was afraid to show anyone.
My gaze flicked to my palette, and I studied the paint options. None of them were right. Snatching up some ultramarine blue, I dabbed it onto my palette, mixing it with the perylene red. A deep purple erupted as the result.
I picked up a brush and didn’t allow myself to hesitate. I went straight for the center of the canvas, the middle of that tunnel of brambles. There, I painted a heart. Not cutesy but realistic. One with all four chambers .
Switching out my brushes, I went back for the perylene red and gave the heart a dripping look. Bleeding. Because there was a cost for blooming in the darkness, and you had to be willing to pay it.
I took a step back and tilted my head. Studying the painting made me uncomfortable, like my skin no longer fit my body. Uncomfortable was good. It meant a new level of work.
Brutus let out two sharp barks. I reached for my phone, ignored the countless notifications, and switched off the music. A knock sounded at the door.
“It’s me,” Linc called.
A shiver of something skated over my skin. Anticipation? Excitement? The combination was foreign. Nothing I’d ever experienced before.
I crossed to the door in a handful of strides. “What’s the password?”
A soft chuckle sounded through the wood. “Cheeseburger.”
My lips twisted into an amused grin as I opened the door. “Cheeseburger?”
Linc held up a bag with a familiar teal and red logo with a retro vibe that read The Pop . “It’s almost ten, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I had an energy bar,” I argued, but my stomach growled as if to call me a liar.
“So, should I take this cheeseburger with caramelized onions, cheese fries, and a strawberry shake back to the house with me then?” Linc challenged.
My jaw went slack. “How did you know my order?”
“I asked Cope before I called them.”
My spine stiffened. “Please, tell me you didn’t share what happened today.”
Linc’s brows pulled together. “I didn’t, but you should.”
I ushered him inside, shaking my head. “You don’t know my family. If they think something is going on, they’ll all move in. I’ll never have a second alone.”
“And that would be a bad thing?” Linc asked, making his way to the leather couch on the far wall and setting the bag and drink holder on the beat-up, paint-splattered coffee table.
I picked up the brushes I’d been using and carried them to the sink. “It’s not that I don’t like having them around. I do. I just—I need my alone time.”
Linc studied me as I cleaned my brushes. “You’re not much for groups, are you?”
One corner of my mouth kicked up. “What gave that away?”
He chuckled. “I get that. But you do have to consider how they’ll feel when they find out what happened and learn you didn’t tell them.”
I winced as I lay the brushes flat to dry. “Maybe they’ll never know. I’ve thought about it a lot, and this note doesn’t read like a professional killer. They wouldn’t want a trail.”
“You might be right there. But someone wanted to scare you at the very least.”
Sliding my hands under the water, I washed them thoroughly. “We don’t know that it was specific to me. Could’ve been a very unfunny prank, and they didn’t care who got the note.”
Linc watched me as I crossed the space to the couch, his gaze like a heat-seeking missile. “Possible. I hope like hell that’s the case. But we take care in the meantime.”
We.
I didn’t miss that one tiny word. I’d never been a we . Not even before my father’s greed ripped my life apart. I’d always simply been me .
Something about being a part of something larger was nice. Even if just for a handful of moments. I didn’t feel quite so alone.
“I’ll be careful,” I muttered, reaching for the white bag. Brutus was already sitting politely, a little drool gathering at the side of his mouth at the prospect of a french fry or a bite of burger.
Linc snatched the bag just before I could get it. “Promise me.”
My jaw went the slightest bit slack. “Are you holding The Pop’s delicious, caramelized onion cheeseburger over my head?”
His brow arched as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “I’m not above using food to get what I want.”
“Of course, you’re not,” I mumbled. But Linc showed no signs of handing over the goods. “Fine. Fine. I promise I’ll be careful. I won’t even turn my phone on silent.”
Linc lowered the bag and handed it to me. “That’s better.”
I fished my burger out of the bag. “You play dirty.”
“No, I play to win.”
Goose bumps rose on my skin at the promise of his words, but I shoved the awareness down, reaching for something—anything—else. “I’m surprised you left poor little defenseless me alone to go pick up dinner.”
“I didn’t.”
My gaze lifted to Linc’s face. “They don’t deliver way out here.”
That mischievous grin was back, the one I was growing addicted to. “They do if you offer to pay the driver a hundred bucks.”
A laugh bubbled out of me as I rolled my eyes. “Money doesn’t solve everything, but I guess it does when it comes to cheeseburgers.”
The smile I was coming to adore slipped from Linc’s face. “Doesn’t solve everything. Not even close.”