32. Lincoln
32
Lincoln
When Seraphina told me she was going to Legends tonight, I couldn’t help laughing at the full-circle moment.
As soon as I turned twenty-one, the first one of my friends because my parents decided to have me start kindergarten a year late, I would go to Legends by myself for a beer and to meet women who wanted nothing more than a quick fuck. When the guys were old enough to join me, they did the same shit I did: drink beer, meet women, repeat.
But then, Grey met Ava, and things changed. Dante fell not soon after with CeCe, and then I was the last man standing. Until Seraphina Rose walked into that party, and then I was just as fucked as them. Except not literally because she lived over forty minutes away and ended all correspondence after six weeks of constant contact to go back to Mitch. It doesn’t matter that I now know why she did it; thinking about it still pisses me off.
I wasn’t lying when I told Sera that I would drown at Legends to escape her memory and all thoughts and mentions of her. And that’s why walking into the overly decorated college bar with collegiate jerseys and memorabilia on the walls feels almost like coming home. Or maybe it’s the petite brunette in all white swaying on the stool that makes it feel like home.
Wait— Why is she swaying?
My eyes narrow on Seraphina’s form, moving wobbly on the stool in front of her friend, who I assume to be the fabled Olivia I’ve heard so much about. A shot glass and a fat margarita sit in front of her, and I can’t help but think that there’s something off with the scene in front of me. Olivia’s face is set in a worried frown as Seraphina reaches forward for the shot glass before throwing it back, tilting her head to the point where she nearly falls off the stool from her imbalance.
“What the fuck?” Done with observation, I stride over to Seraphina and steady her body, letting her weight fall against me as I grab her shoulders and prevent her from falling. “What’s wrong, cierń?”
“Oh!” She hiccups, pitching forward and catching herself on the bar. “What are you doing here?” Her words are coherent but possess the slow drawl of someone who’s had just a bit too much alcohol.
“I’m here for you.” I keep my eyes on her flushed face, enjoying how the pink in her cheeks deepens to red.
“What about Jenny? No, June? Wrong—” She shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to recall the name of a woman who never had a chance.
“Gemma.” She snaps her fingers. “Weren’t you with her today?”
I raise a brow at her question, both liking and annoyed with how forthcoming she is in her tipsy state. “Were you gossiping at brunch, cierń?”
She shakes her head rapidly, her eyes wide. “Celeste may have mentioned it.”
“Hmm,” I hum, squeezing her shoulders lightly. “She picked up the last of her things today.”
“Did you burn your bed?”
“Would it make you happy if I did?” I bite on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling because I can tell that in her inebriated mind, she’s serious. Looking over her head, I meet Olivia’s eyes, a hard look passing over her features before she evens them out, adopting a blank stare.
“You must be Olivia.”
“And you must be the guy with a girlfriend.” Her eyebrow rises as she speaks, the blank stare becoming hostile again.
I meet Olivia’s stare, annoyance bleeding into my voice. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, well, you did until five minutes ago. So what is it that you want with my drunk friend? Because if you try to take advantage of her, I will not hesitate to blow out your kneecaps.”
I’m happy Seraphina has a bloodthirsty counterpart, especially because she’s so goddamn sweet. In some ways, Olivia’s warning reminds me a lot of Celeste and her protective nature toward Ava. Still, the idea of hurting Seraphina is laughable since all I want to do is worship her.
“I’d never hurt her.” My voice is hard, a warning to Olivia that such a suggestion is bullshit. “But I am going to get her home.”
“I don’t want to go to your bed, Lincoln.” Seraphina shakes her head, hitting my torso with her thick bun.
“So you’ll go to yours.” And so will I , I add in my head. Though not to take advantage of her, as Olivia erringly suggested, but to watch over her and make sure she knows I’m there. I don’t know Seraphina as an adult, one who can legally walk into a bar and drink. But something in my gut tells me that this is an abnormal display, and something happened.
“I’ll be home in two hours. If you do anything to her—”
I hold up my hand, cutting the statuesque bartender off. “Kneecaps, I got it.”
She holds up the soft-drink gun at me, her finger hovering over a button. “I’ll paint you in cranberry juice, so watch it. Now get her home.” She pauses to nod at Seraphina. “Something’s up with her, and she won’t tell me.”
My eyes narrow at her words. Lifting my hands from Sera’s shoulders, I turn her body around on the stool to get a better look at her face. Like every time I see her, I’m momentarily struck by her beauty. “Hi, cierń,” I murmur, raising my hands to cup her jaw. She closes her eyes at the contact, seemingly breathing me in as I stand as close to her as the stool will allow. “You ready to head back to your apartment?”
She nods her head against my hands, her eyes wide and glassy as they take me in. “My address is—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “I know where you live, Seraphina.”
“How— Ava?” she drawls. “Of course it was Ava.”
I laugh at the faux annoyance on her face. “It was Grey, actually. He thought I should know where you lived, just in case.”
“In case of what? You wanted to climb into her window?” Olivia adds, and for a minute, I forgot she was standing there.
I shake my head, keeping my voice even as I reply, “In case there was ever any trouble or if Seraphina needed me.”
“Oh,” Sera whispers, tilting her face into my left palm.
“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ Let’s get out of here?”
In an attempt that I can only describe as an uncoordinated slide, Seraphina falls from the front of the stool, almost collapsing in her haste to stand. I catch her as she tumbles, absorbing her weight and keeping her upright.
“You are definitely related to Ava.” Olivia snorts from behind the bar, and I don’t stop the laugh that falls from my mouth. While Seraphina’s struggle to stand is uncoordinated at best, Ava would have been sprawled out on the floor, a sack of bones and sarcastic quips, with a skinned knee and blood.
“Let’s go, cierń,” I whisper into her ear before bending down and capturing her body, bringing her up to my chest bridal-style. I expect her to complain, to ask me to put her down or insist she can walk.
I anticipate some kind of fight, one that I’ll have to douse. But she does none of that. Instead, she drops her head to my chest and inhales, settling against me as though it’s the place she’s supposed to be.
—
It was a short, uneventful drive from Legends to Seraphina’s shared apartment. After buckling her in the car and ensuring that she wasn’t going to throw up on herself, I took the roads slowly, mindful of turns and any sudden movements that could jostle her. I pulled into a parking spot at the front of her building, threw the car in park, and turned off the ignition.
We’ve been sitting in silence for the last five minutes, our breaths the soundtrack of the evening. I don’t miss the way she continues to stare out the window, her head inverted from my gaze, or how her fists are clenched against her thighs. Something’s wrong, something she tried to mask with alcohol and a playful smile.
“What happened tonight, cierń?”
She takes a minute to consider my words, her face still turned away from me. Finally, she responds, “Mitch came to the library tonight.”
My hands shoot forward, gripping my steering wheel as though it’s Mitch’s neck. “What did he say to you?”
Her head begins to shake before I finish my question, a refusal already springing from her lips. “Idle threats. He and I both know that he can’t come near me, but—”
“But he did, Seraphina.” I release the wheel and reach for one of her clenched hands, prying it until her palm is open. Scissoring our fingers, I clutch her hand in mine, reminding her with my touch that I’m here with her. “And that scares the shit out of me that he’s here. It makes me fucking irate that the piece of paper stating he can’t come within however many feet of you is useless and that you’re vulnerable, and he knows exactly where to find you.”
“I can’t stop living my life,” she whispers, sounding so goddamn broken that my heart splinters at her admission. “He took everything from me—from Olivia, and I can’t allow it to happen again.”
My brow furrows at her words. “He knows Olivia?”
She nods solemnly, turning her head to look at our entwined fingers. “He hurt her too.”
“Fuck,” I say under my breath. “Did you call the police?”
“My parents know; I called them before I went into the bar.”
“Fuck, Seraphina,” I repeat, bringing her knuckles to my mouth, needing to taste her and confirm that she’s here and whole and safe. “What did he say to you?”
Her sigh is heavy, simultaneously defeated and annoyed. “He told me I ruined his life, and it was only fair he returned the favor. He didn’t say much more than that before I threatened to call the police. He left right after that.”
“Seraphina, I don’t care what time it is or where you are. If he ever approaches you again, you call the police and then me. Do you understand? I don’t care what I’m doing. Nothing is more important than you. Tell me you get that.”
“I get it.”
“Good. Now let’s go inside before I drive to that fucker’s parents’ house and light it on fire.”
“Arson isn’t funny, Lincoln.”
“Good thing I’m not joking.” I punctuate my words by releasing her hand and opening my car door. I don’t waste time getting out of my seat or rounding the car to meet her in front of her door. The moment she stands and shuts the passenger door, I crowd her against it, pinning her with my hips while my arms cage her in. “We wasted a long fucking time, Seraphina, and I’m done wasting it. I don’t care about the other people, the shit you had to do, the bullshit existence I lived. None of it matters anymore. Nothing is going to keep me from you anymore, especially not Mitch Abernathy. So you tell me if he ever bothers you again, him or that snot-nosed friend, and I promise you, they’ll never breathe in your direction again.”
Her gaze is firm on my eyes, and I will my stare to convey the conviction of my words. Whatever she sees must confirm that I’m serious because she nods slowly. “Okay, Lincoln.”
“Promise me?”
She swallows, eyes still pinned to mine. “I promise.”
Leaning down, I bend until my lips are at her ear. “ Mój ma?y cierń ,” I whisper, letting my lips graze her earlobe as I speak Polish into her skin. Her stuttered inhale lets me know she’s as affected as I am, and I press a kiss against the pulse point at her neck before standing up and stepping back. “Let’s get inside.”
I hold my hand out, and she takes it.