44. Dan
DAN
The sight of Lincoln so close to tears had shaken me.
I’d tried so fucking hard to hate him, pouring everything I had into it.
Every single bit of pain and heartbreak.
I’d worn the mask to try and separate myself, to be Arson rather than Dan, the person whose heart was broken.
But when I’d punched him with my brass knuckles, I felt like throwing up.
When I’d bitten him, all I wanted to do was trace my tongue over his lip, soothing the hurt.
When his face had fucking crumpled like he was about to cry, my misery was visceral.
Despite knowing what I knew, despite everything he’d done, I was still torturing myself by hearing him out, all because I couldn’t stand seeing the person I loved in pain.
I’d take every bit of his misery and add it to mine if it meant he would stop hurting.
If this was what love was like, it fucking sucked.
Slumping back against the outside wall of the rink, wincing as my back came into contact with the cold, rough surface, I closed my eyes. I was a fucking masochist.
My physical pain was secondary to the pain inside me, though.
Yeah, I was bruised from getting up close and personal with Whelford’s finest ice without any kind of padding.
Yeah, my eyes were sore and swollen from crying—and by the way, no one ever told me that was a thing.
Selfies hadn’t been an option for the past nine days—not that I’d been counting—and apparently, they were not an option in my near future, either.
But so fucking what? None of that mattered when it came to having Lincoln Bellingham right there in front of me. Warm, and solid, and real, taunting me with everything I once thought I had, when in reality, he’d betrayed me in the worst possible way.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I dug it out, lifting it so I could see the screen.
Neil. I cancelled the call. No doubt he was phoning to check up on me.
Again. I had texts from my two best friends as well, but I ignored them all, powering off my phone and shoving it back inside my pocket.
None of their efforts to cheer me up were working.
How could they, when my heart had been broken?
“Hi.” My head shot up. Lincoln stood in front of me, dressed in a dark hoodie and joggers. He eyed me warily from beneath his hood when I remained silent. “Can I talk?”
I licked my lips. “Yeah,” I rasped.
“Okay. The first thing I want to say is that I never betrayed you.” At my huff of disbelief, he held up his hand, taking a step closer. “You said I got five minutes. Let me use them.”
I jerked my head in assent, and he cleared his throat.
“My dad originally asked me to make sure my uncle was investigating the Hoyton Firm as part of Operation Foxglove. He—he blackmailed me. He said he’d— Fuck. He said he’d have Tilly taken away from Mike if I didn’t do it.”
I inhaled harshly. “What?”
“Yeah.” Lincoln stared down at the ground, scuffing his trainer against the dusty concrete path that snaked its way through the hidden shadows around the building.
“He was so insistent. He was going to, I dunno, give Tilly’s mum a monetary incentive to get her to file for full custody.
It would’ve killed Mike. Tilly…she’s everything to him, and I couldn’t do that to them. Not ever.”
His voice was so fucking anguished, his eyes glimmering with moisture in the dim lighting.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to fucking murder his dad for doing this, to make it all okay again.
But the fact was, my family and I were the ones who were going to take the fall for it.
“Okay. I get that. Obviously, you’re gonna pick Mike over me.
So, what, you followed me? Compiled your little dossier of my movements and fed it back to Mike?
To your dad? That was why you were at the petrol station, wasn’t it?
And that was why you showed up at the offices. ”
I’d been such a fucking fool. But I hadn’t been lying when I said I got it. I did understand. If I’d been in his position…
No. I couldn’t have sold him out, not in a million years. I loved Lincoln, and even before I’d realised that fact, I wouldn’t have been able to betray him in cold blood. I’d utilise every single one of my connections to find a solution.
But I was under no illusions that he felt anything much for me. Not anymore. I’d thought he cared for me in some way until I’d seen the evidence of his betrayal first-hand, but now I knew the truth.
“I didn’t give any information to anyone.
” Lincoln stepped even closer, the fabric of his hoodie brushing against mine, and I pressed back into the wall.
“I-I did follow you that first time, but I swear to you, on my life, fuck, on Mike’s life, that I was never going to hand anything over.
It was curiosity. I wanted to—damn it, I wanted to know more about you, okay?
To see the parts you kept hidden. That second time, I was fucking worried about you.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Don’t you fucking know how I feel about—”
“Does Mike know about your dad blackmailing you?”
Lincoln’s harsh exhales hit my skin as he leaned in, slamming his palm against the wall, over and over. “No.”
“Stop doing that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” I curled my fingers around his wrist, yanking it sharply, and he stopped, his head falling forwards to drop against my shoulder.
“I fucked everything up.”
“Yeah, you did.” I couldn’t let myself soften.
Not anymore. “It seems a bit too convenient that the only people aware of your little agreement are you and your dad. The only fucking person who can corroborate your story is the man who’s held a grudge against my family for almost as long as I’ve been alive.
Why didn’t you tell Mike about the blackmail?
And why the fuck didn’t you tell me that Frank fucking Culverhouse was alive? ”