Chapter 44 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
@pancakesareelite:
What do you do when you’re really sad?
@theanswerisno:
Ignore those feelings
@pancakesareelite:
Sounds reasonable
@theanswerisno:
On occasion, it’ll bottle up and you’ll explode for seemingly no reason, but other than that, it works
@pancakesareelite:
I’ll have to give it a go. Seems better than crying.
@theanswerisno:
I don’t like crying
@pancakesareelite:
Because you’re a big, tough man?
@theanswerisno:
Nah, because I get really snotty
My mother couldn’t even say I love you. Douglas had found her, so she hung up without a word.
I washed my face in the bathroom and then walked to my bedroom, trying to keep the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach from wreaking havoc on the rest of my body. I climbed onto the bed and pulled the pillow over my head, letting it swallow my tears. With a heaving sob, my lungs emptied.
Would we ever truly get away from him?
I’d been running for so long, but I was tired. I wanted to go home. I wanted a home to go to.
Breathing became difficult, and I lifted the pillow.
A light clatter came from the kitchen. I sat up and listened.
It sounded like Lincoln was awake and doing something unusual for this hour.
I’d washed up, dried everything, and packed it away.
I’d made sure of it because last night he still found items needing to be packed away after I’d cleared up.
To be fair, for most of my life, I didn’t have to clean anything.
The tick of the gas stove drew my attention.
Was he cooking? Why?
I could go and look, but that would mean facing him in this state where a breeze could knock me over, and Lincoln Carden wasn’t a breeze; he was an all-encompassing hurricane, sweeping me away with every thoughtful gaze and tentative touch.
Falling backward, I stared at the wooden trusses, studying them as I did on the first night to ensure there weren’t any spiders. Tonight, I studied the structure, finding some peace in geometry.
Something crashed in the kitchen and shattered. I hopped out of bed and swung the door open. Lincoln was folded over, picking up broken pieces of mossy-green ceramic.
He glanced up from underneath those ridiculously long eyelashes. “Hey.” His voice was thick and low. “I didn’t mean to disturb you… yet.”
“Yet?” I asked, taking him in. His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen before and he still wore the gray sweatpants and plain white T-shirt. His curly hair was a messy flop.
He stood and threw some of the chunks of sharp edges into the bin. “I’m almost done.” He gestured awkwardly to his left. To a plate of… pancakes.
Lincoln Carden made pancakes.
Before I could stop myself, I ran forward. Needing to be closer to him, needing to be held.
Instead of holding me, Lincoln caught me and lifted me before placing me on the kitchen island. Then he pulled back. The lines on his face were drawn deep in shock.
“Sorry,” I choked out. “I shouldn’t have tried to hug you. I… I…” I flinched, but his horrified expression softened and twisted into something that stirred the old flutter in my stomach.
His hand curled around my neck, his fingers warm against my skin. “Oh,” he whispered. “Don’t apologize for that.” He pulled me close until my cheek pressed against his warm chest. If there was ever a place I wanted to be, it was here.
“You’re not wearing any shoes, and you tried running over a shattered mug.” His chest vibrated as he spoke. He wrapped his other arm around me in a tight hug that squeezed out the remaining air in my body.
But I could breathe.
I unfurled, lifting my face and finding a new comfort in the shape of his neck. His hand stroked gentle lines up and down my back while the other was knitted in my hair, keeping me close.
“You made pancakes?” I squeaked out, arching as his fingers sent tingles up my spine.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday, Elizabeth.” His voice was barely loud enough for me to hear as his lips grazed the tip of my ear. “I’m so sorry for running away from you. I’m sorry about your mom.”
My heart cracked open. He heard all that?
“You made pancakes,” I said again.
“According to someone I know, they’re elite.”
My heart slammed at the acknowledgment of my username, at this moment where Lincoln was my Link and I was his Lily.
We stood in silence for a few seconds as if in another world. Lincoln’s mouth pressed against the top of my head, and I wanted to tilt my face upward and catch his lips on mine.
But he leaned back, cleared his throat, and offered me a boyish smile. “I have cinnamon sugar, which, for some reason, you smell like.”
My cheeks heated.
“And maple syrup because Rose decided that was an essential.”
He grabbed the broom and swept up the last of the ceramic pieces. I looked at the pancakes. A crooked H and A were spread across the top of two of them.
“What’s this?” I pointed at the letters.
He stood, grimacing, before turning around and emptying the shards into the bin. With a voice so deliciously bashful I nearly leaped on him again, he said, “I was in the process of writing HAPPY BIRTHDAY but the mug had other ideas. Also, it’s not that easy to write with cinnamon sugar.”
“And you call yourself an engineer,” I teased, unable to add even a playful bite to my voice. “You could have made a stencil.”
He turned his head upward to look at the ceiling, his mouth curling into a full smile. “I was a bit distracted by the thought of the beautiful woman I was doing it for.”
My insides melted and I worried I’d slip off the table, onto the floor, and right through the cracks.
“Can I eat it?” I asked.
He nodded and shrugged and did a weird sort of shimmy thing with his body. “Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s any good. I’ve never made pancakes before.”
I took one.
“Wait, you don’t have any toppings.” He raised the jar of syrup.
But I already had it in my mouth. I chewed it, the soft comfort of a warm pancake washing over me.
“It’s perfect.” I picked up another. “Come here.” He walked over and I opened my legs, hoping he’d step between them.
He did.
I offered it to him, and the smile playing on his lips was more delicious than the thing I was eating.
He took a bite and his full lips grazed against my fingertips.
I envied my own fingers. Heat spread all the way to the tips of my ears and my toes curled with the desire to kiss him.
I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against the underside of his jaw.
He jumped away and gulped. His eyes wide in horror. “Are you out of your mind to lay your lips on me while I’m eating? I nearly choked. I could have died.”
I dropped my face into my hands in an attempt to contain the hot, unbridled joy sparking through me. But it didn’t work. Laughter burst out of me as stars exploded in my chest.
And it was that moment that Lincoln leaped toward me and crashed his mouth onto mine with a desperation I’d longed for. I tightened one leg around him, and he leaned into me. His breath came out in heavy pants as he whispered against my lips, “I can’t believe you’re my Lily.”
“And you’re my Link.” I glanced upward, meeting his gaze. From this close, I could see the depth of those brown irises that I thought about way too often.
I closed my eyes, and he took this as permission to kiss me again.
His arms slipped around my waist, and I resisted the urge to bite down on his bottom lip, which I teased between my teeth.
I wanted all of Lincoln Carden. Unrestrained.
Unfiltered. I wanted Lincoln in whichever way he was comfortable being.
His coffee taste filled me as our tongues finally met.
I felt the low moan from the back of his throat and snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him as close as he could get.
His hands settled on my hips but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
Even if everything crashed and burned, I wanted one night with Lincoln Carden. One night where I was desired and loved and cared for. One night where I was touched carefully and with intent. One night where I could finally give myself to someone I trusted. Loved.
But this wasn’t only about me.
With another, unwanted voice creeping into my mind, I panicked and pulled away. The words flew out of me before I could stop them. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”