Chapter Sixty-Three
Phoenix
My little intruse, the woman who’d trespassed all over my three-foot world, hugged my son.
And Lincoln hugged her back. “Um, hi, Isla.”
Isla laughed, her true laugh. “Hi back.” Releasing my son, she looked up at him, then she asked what I’d never thought to. “Okay, do you really go by Lincoln? Or is your dad the only one who calls you by your full name?”
Lincoln’s face flushed, then he briefly looked at me before grabbing his neck and smiling at Isla. “Um, kinda? I usually go by Linc.”
My intruse grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Linc.” She looked past him. “Was that you playing?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“That is very cool. You were amazing! How long have you been playing?”
“Um, thanks.” Still gripping his neck, Lincoln—Linc—shifted his feet. “I guess, since, like, maybe, three?”
“Oh my God.” Unfamiliar with Lincoln’s speech patterns, Isla looked to me. “He’s been playing since he was three years old?”
I had no idea when he’d started playing, but I did know if he said three, he meant three. “Yes,” I answered, addressing Isla as I raised an eyebrow at my son, silently asking permission to tell her more.
Lincoln shrugged, leaving the decision up to me.
I made it. “Lincoln and I are still getting our feet wet with each other.”
My little intruse slowly nodded. “Okay.”
I broke the proverbial ice. “I didn’t know about Lincoln until two months ago.
By the time his mother found out she was pregnant, I was deployed and unreachable.
My father, a Vice Admiral, took matters into his own hands.
He already had a career trajectory laid out for me, and under the guise of keeping Lincoln and his mother safe, he put them in WITSEC.
I wasn’t aware of any of this. Lincoln was only recently made aware of it.
Thankfully, he reached out. Now we’re here.
” I looked pointedly at my little intruse, whose eyes were welling. “You’re here.”
“Thank you,” she replied quietly, looking from me to my son. “You’re very brave.”
“I, ah, don’t know about that.”
“Isla’s right.” That should’ve been the first damn thing I’d said to him. “It was incredibly brave.”
Lincoln dropped his gaze. “Um, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. But I owe you the gratitude.” None of us would be standing here right now if he hadn’t sent that first text.
“Okay.” Isla clapped her hands. “No one’s allowed to make me cry on a day as perfect as this. Besides, I don’t do tears, and that’d just be ugly to witness. I see a lonely pool and a beckoning ocean. Swim or food first?”
I didn’t correct her tears comment.
Lincoln’s hand fell to his stomach. “Um, breakfast?”
“I love breakfast.” Isla smiled wide. “I’m cooking. Who’s helping?”
For a second, Lincoln looked slightly panicked.
I stepped in. “You direct, we’ll follow.”
Linc was nodding before I finished the reply. “Yeah, because I can only really, like, make one thing good, and, um, I don’t think… my dad wants grilled cheese for breakfast. He, like, only ate eggs yesterday.”
“Is that your favorite?” Isla asked casually.
Lincoln looked to me as if he needed permission. “Ah, it’s good?”
My little intruse picked up on his cues. “But not your favorite, right? What’s your very, very favorite food?”
The kid didn’t hesitate. “Pancakes.”
Isla nudged my son’s arm with her shoulder, then winked like she was letting him in on a secret. “I make some mean pancakes.” She turned toward the kitchen but glanced back at me. “Is the kitchen stocked in this giant house?”
Already following her, Lincoln answered. “Oh yeah, I saw a bunch of stuff. There’s, like, a pantry?”
“Perfect.” My little intruse glanced at the bowl of fruit on the island as she headed toward the fridge. “I just have one very important question, Linc.”
“Oh. Um, okay?”
“Do you like banana pancakes?”
My son smiled. Unreservedly. “I like all kinds of pancakes.”
I fucking breathed right for the first time in ten years.