Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Rain peltsmy apartment window at a slow and steady pace, matching the speed with which my thoughts roll frame by frame, the events of yesterday playing out again and again. I slap the poetry book I’m trying to read closed, unable to focus on its words.
I keep remembering the moment I spotted Lincoln running toward the creek with Lucy and pretended not to notice. Him finally seeing me and approaching. Our adventure in the tubes, my panic attack, and the conversation that followed. Finally, the most intense almost-kiss I could have ever imagined.
A moan hums through me as I think about the way my legs wrapped around him, giving in to my own insatiable desire. I’ve never felt like this with a man before—desperate for his attention, aching for his hands on every inch of my body, ready to take him however he’ll let me have him.
I no longer need to question Lincoln’s desire for me. He made that abundantly clear yesterday, leaving little room for doubt, when his thick cock pressed into the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms, desperate for entry. I heard the guttural groan that came from deep in his chest as he pulled me closer. I saw the need in his eyes as I rubbed against him and felt the heady undertone of sex when his lips met my ear. And I recognized his deep sense of disappointment when we were interrupted before our lips could completely meet, because I felt it too.
In my mind, it’s no longer “if we have sex.” It’s “when.” And I’m anxiously awaiting that opportunity.
Just like every other morning when thoughts of Lincoln Reed spiral through my brain and trigger my sexual hunger, I’m wet and eager for relief. But rubbing my clit isn’t enough this morning when I’m imagining his hard cock inside me. If we’d only had more time, I would have let him take me right there in the creek. If he had slipped my bikini from my skin and slid me down his shaft, I would have fucked him without a single ounce of regret.
Two fingers slip into my entrance, and I push them inside until I’m fucking myself, imagining it’s Lincoln slipping, sliding, groaning, deepening. Imagining his thick beard scratching and teasing my skin.
Relief erupts from me in a wave of orgasm that leaves me floating for the rest of the morning. Clearly, it’s been too long since I’ve had sex, but I’ve gone months before and the need has never hit me like this—like I can’t function without getting myself off. It’s the Lincoln Reed effect, one I’m not sure I’ll ever get over.
I go through my morning routine at the bar, making sure I unpack everything I bought at the market yesterday, cutting fresh fruit and garnishes, sweeping and mopping the floors, and going over paperwork in the office. I continue working even when Janessa comes in with shades over her eyes, clearly hung over.
“You going to be okay today?” I smile, knowing Armando’s birthday party continued long after I left.
Janessa groans. “That’s debatable.”
Chuckling, I take a seat at the bar and watch her struggle with her apron as she walks to the register to clock in. “If you give me one hour to run an errand, I can cover your shift,” I offer.
She frowns, sunglasses still covering her eyes. “You’re closing tonight. I can’t let you do that—and believe it or not, Armando is worse off than me.”
“Maybe Kyle can?—”
She cuts me off, shaking her head. “Trust me. I’m the best you’ve got today.”
Laughing again, I slap the counter. “It’s fine, babe. I’ll take the double. I’ll even pay you for the day off. Just get me back another time.”
Janessa doesn’t have to express her relief with words. It’s written all over her body. “Okay, deal. Go run your errand, and I’ll try not to vomit while you’re gone.”
She flashes me a smile as if to assure me she’s kidding, and I give her a smile in return. Then I hop off the bar stool.
“Wait, I meant to ask you something,” she says.
I turn to face her. “Ask me what?”
Instant regret hits me when I turn around and see the teasing smile on her lips. My cheeks immediately get hot—I know what’s coming.
“What’s going on with you and the new doctor in town?” she asks, still grinning. “Kyle said he caught you two in a lip-lock.”
Shit.“We were not in a lip-lock. We were…” I don’t know how to get myself out of this. “He was saving me from drowning.” There. A lie, and a shitty one, but who’s going to question me?
Janessa folds her arms across her chest. “You almost drowned? You’re the best swimmer I know.”
I shrug. “You must know a lot of drowners.”
A laugh bursts from her throat, but she’s not ready to let up. “So he was, what, giving you CPR while your legs were wrapped around his waist?”
Double shit.Instead of admitting a single thing or explaining that Kyle’s terrible timing ruined the damn kiss, I raise my shoulders again. “He’s the doctor, not me.” Before she can question me any further, I turn around. “See you in an hour.”
I step out of the rideshare at J.D.’s house as the driver promises to wait for me. Walking most places in town is fairly simple, but not when it comes to where J.D. resides by the lake with his wife, three dogs, and two horses.
A shiver runs up my spine. The last time I paid a visit to J.D.’s personal residence was right after my uncle agreed that I would live with him. Patrick brought me to meet with J.D. in his home, rather than at his office downtown. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—Patrick and J.D. were friends, and I was the quiet, troubled teen who had gotten out from under her parents’ control and was finally able to make choices for herself.
But now that I look at the quaint one-story house on the lake, I can’t help but wonder why it started here.
Shaking off the thought, I focus on the mission at hand. I’m here to find out what the hell happened to my friend and therapist.
The tubing adventure of the day before had sent my thoughts into a memory spiral after I got home. Seeing the campground again and remembering that night in such vivid detail triggered me, ultimately leading me to confess too much to Lincoln. And before work, unable to help myself, I’d tried calling J.D. again, which only resulted in his voicemail.
Now I’m determined to get answers, even if that means taking matters into my own hands. I’m going to find J.D. myself and ask him directly. Selfish or not, I need to know.
At the door, I ball my hand into a fist and raise it to knock, taking a deep breath before I do. It’s close to a minute before I hear the latch on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the knob turning. When the door opens, Gena, J.D.’s wife, appears on the other side of the screen. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but she also wears a guarded expression that makes me reel back a step.
“Hello, Evelyn.” So formal. So cold. Not at all like the woman I knew who often accompanied J.D. into town for dinner and events.
“Hi, Gena. I’m sorry to bother you.” My eyes dart to the open staircase and hallway behind her, unsure what I’m expecting to find. J.D., perhaps? “I was hoping to speak to your husband for a moment.”
She frowns, clearly displeased. “I’m afraid he’s unavailable.”
That same confusing answer. “Like, forever? Or just today?”
“Indefinitely, as far as I know.”
Shock stings me. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but I certainly didn’t anticipate my visit warranted such a cold response. “It’s just… He didn’t leave word for me. I guess I just wanted to see him, see if he’s okay.” My heart beats loudly in my chest.
Her eyes narrow into a glare. “Excuse my bluntness, Ms. Vaughn, but my husband’s whereabouts are none of your business.” Something flickers in her eyes, and she tilts her head to the side. “I was told you and his other patients were taken care of. Doreen assured me you’ve all been appointed someone new to oversee your mental health goals.”
Still stunned, I manage a nod. “Y-yes, someone has been appointed, and he’s nice, but—” I pause before I blurt out that Lincoln Reed cannot become my therapist, not with eyes and lips like his. “I’ve been in J.D.’s care for twelve years.” There. That should get her to understand why I’m so curious and concerned that I came all the way out here to check on him. “The change caught me off guard. It all felt so unexpected.”
Her face softens slightly. “I apologize for that, Evelyn, but you really shouldn’t be here.”
Her eyes shift to something behind me for just a millisecond before they’re back on mine, and I turn to see what caught her attention. At first glance, I notice nothing of importance, until I realize a black car with tinted shades is parked at the curb across the street.
A chill shoots up my spine. “Who’s that?” I demand.
Gena blinks, appearing startled by my question. “Who’s who?”
I make a dramatic show of pointing at the car. “There.”
“I have no idea.” The discomfort in her voice, her mirthless little laugh at the end, tells me she’s lying.
Confusion begins to melt into frustration. Dropping the subject of the car, I focus back on trying to get through to her. “I… I don’t understand. Even if J.D. is no longer my therapist, he’s still my friend.”
Gena flinches—maybe at my boldness? “You should leave.” She begins to shut the door.
Not ready to give up, I take one more desperate look around the outside of the house. Not a single light appears to be on, and the shades all seem to be drawn. I can’t conclude if any of that is out of the norm for J.D. and Gena, but something feels… off.
“Tell me he’s okay,” I beg as the door closes.
Gena pauses and stares back at me, one eye hidden behind the door, then she nods slowly. “He’s perfectly fine. Now, good day, Ms. Vaughn.”
The door closes completely, and I hear the lock click, signifying my opportunity is over.
But I got what I came for. Didn’t I? I got confirmation that J.D. is okay, straight from his wife. I may never find out why he chose to leave or why he left the way he did, but at the end of the day, that isn’t what matters.
And Gena is right—it’s none of my business.
I walk back to my rideshare flooded with disappointment, but I try to force myself to think about what’s next with my therapy, wondering if it’s something I still want. I just hate that all these memories I thought I’d finally drowned have been triggered again after one tubing adventure down Deep Creek. I’ve gone years without visualizing the sordid details of that night. Now, I can’t seem to stop retracing my steps through those woods. Asleep or awake, they continue to come.
Unfortunately, even if I did want to drown the dark memories like before, I know that’s impossible now. Not with Lincoln’s seeming obsession with wanting to know every detail about me, including my tragic past. He thinks releasing my suppressed memories will free me from the tethers that hold me to that awful night.
Maybe he’s right—maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.
I just don’t know how.