Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
“Phone’s for you!”shouts Armando as he slips around the bar.
I look up from where I’m reshelving books after the college group from earlier left them scattered all over the study desk. “You heading out to the street fair?”
Janessa and Kyle are already working the tent outside at yet another town event that Firefly sponsors. We’re closing the bar, as we promised the city, to ensure all business stays with the vendors set up on Main Street.
“Yup. See you out there?”
Normally, I would say no, especially since I didn’t sign up to work the Firefly tent, but Lincoln already told me he’ll be there with Lucy, and he invited me to join them. “I’ll be out there in a bit.”
He leaves, and I walk over to the phone. “Firefly—this is Evie.”
“Evie girl!”
I smile instantly at the sound of Uncle Patrick’s voice. It feels like he’s been gone for months rather than weeks. “It’s about time you called.”
He chuckles. “I know, I know. You know how it is. I never slow down long enough to think about silly things like calling home.” He pauses. “How’s everything going? You surviving without me?”
“Barely,” I tell him teasingly. “Gabe only had to kick Jimmy out once for me so far.”
Patrick mutters something under his breath that sounds like “that shithead.”
“Other than that, we’ve been keeping steady most days,” I tell him. “Business is good. Your patrons are happy. But what about you? I want to hear about the trip.”
In the back of my mind, I wonder if he knows about the recent murder, but the last thing I want to do is worry him while he’s campground-hopping around the Appalachians.
“It’s been great,” he says. “The camper’s been holding up pretty well during my great escape. I just left Elkmont last night. I think I’ll just keep trucking along until I get bored.”
Patrick has always been adventurous, always feeling restless at home. Hence all the different real estate properties he’s bought just to have something to occupy him when he wasn’t at the bar. I’m glad he finally started taking off on longer trips.
“Who are you kidding?” I grin. “You’ll never get bored. You might as well hand this bar over to me right now so I can get paid properly for running the joint.”
He chuckles. “Hey, you get the paperwork together, and you’ve got yourself a deal. I was always planning to hand it down to you anyway. Why not now?”
My mouth hangs open, baffled by the seeming ease of acquiring a bar for zero dollars. Uncle Patrick must be high or something. “Do they sell those special mushrooms over there in Tennessee, or are you for real? Firefly is your baby.”
“It’s your baby now,” he says. “I’ve been training you to run that bar since the day I bought it.”
My heart swells. It’s not the first time Patrick has told me this, but it’s the first time I can actually feel like it will come true.
Then he says, “Hey, uh, speaking of Firefly…”
My heart sinks, knowing it’s coming. “You heard?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I did.” A few beats of silence linger. “You okay?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that we’ve had to have this conversation so many times in the last ten years, after the killings restarted. “I think so. I just want it to end. This has been going on for far too long.” I shudder.
“Fourteen years,” Patrick says grimly.
“And the last two were so close to home.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll talk to Gabe about putting warning signs at the campgrounds to warn people away from catching fireflies.”
“That’s never worked, Evie. People don’t read those signs, and when they do, they don’t heed them.”
Guilt swarms my chest, knowing I was one of those people once upon a time. “It’s worth a shot.”
He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose it’s worth a shot. But it’s been fourteen years since the first murder.” He clears his throat, and I know it’s because he’s emotional. “Since Carley. Ten years since the second.”
He has his math right, though I hate that I know every detail of every killing. I know that after the fourth murder, the police began to string together the evidence that tied each of the killings to the Firefly Man.
“No matter how many murders there have been, they still think it’s nothing but an old campfire tale,” Patrick adds, sounding defeated.
We change the subject and talk for another few minutes so he can tell me about some of the interesting people he met on the road.
When we start to say our goodbyes, Patrick sounds concerned once again. “Call me if you need anything, Evie girl.”
I smile a bit. “Will do.”
After I hang up, I pick up my pace, putting the rest of the books away then rushing upstairs to change, opting for a shower once I get a whiff of stale beer after yanking off my top.
Thirty minutes later, I’m wearing my favorite yellow slip skirt with a slit that reaches the middle of my right thigh. I pair it with a matching stretch sleeveless tank with ruffle straps. As I slip into a pair of white sandals, I check my reflection, imagining what Lincoln might think when he sees me.
I would normally think myself ridiculous for fixating so much on my appearance, but I’ve never met a man who looked at me the way Lincoln does—like he sees straight past my eyes and deep into my soul. No matter how dark and empty I’ve felt on too many occasions, he doesn’t see a broken woman. To him, I’m whole.
Taking a deep breath, I tear my eyes from the mirror and push the door to my room open. An unsettling sensation blasts through me the moment I step out to the balcony that overlooks the bar. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt that nagging suspicion that someone’s watching me like that night I walked to J.D.’s office to find Lincoln in his place. At one time, I was convinced the presence could be Carley, haunting me from her grave, warning me that danger was close—but danger never came.
I’ve learned ways to cope whenever that discomfort rises up. I take a long, deep breath, pulling air from deep in my lungs, then release it slowly. Eventually, the feeling starts to fade and my breath returns to normal, but my heart still thuds loudly in my chest.
Frowning, I step closer to the balcony rail, senses still on high alert. As I scan the bar below, my thoughts go to the pocketknife I always carry. Patrick gifted it to me when I first moved here in one of his many attempts to help me feel safe living in this town. It’s not the deadliest weapon, but I’ve never left home without it.
Sighing, I almost begin to scold myself for being so paranoid. This is always how it goes. My panic spikes for nothing at all, every single time. But when I see the front door is ajar, my lungs instantly constrict. What the?—
I look around the room frantically to identify anything else out of the ordinary. Everything appears just as I left it, save for the opened door, but Armando had rushed outside quickly. Maybe he didn’t shut it all the way.
After another quick self-scolding, I rush downstairs, taking the steps two steps at a time. I jump from the last and rush for the door, closing and locking it behind me.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I lean back against the door, holding my breath to slow my heart rate. For the longest string of seconds, I’m stuck in a vacuum, my senses smothered by the tunnel I’ve successfully trapped myself in. It’s where I go when my anxiety cripples me—when there’s nowhere safe to go but inside my mind.
“Evie,” a muffled voice calls.
My heart kicks in my chest, and my eyes flash open wide. Lincoln is standing there with a concerned expression. I don’t know how long he’s been calling my name, but thankfully his presence is the only antidote I need.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I swallow and nod, then I look to his left to find Lucy beaming up at me with her beautiful smile.
“Hi,” she says, her hand in her dad’s and swinging his arm, completely oblivious of the panic attack her dad just pulled me out of.
“Hi, Lucy.” My smile blooms easily, especially when I realize she’s wearing the yellow dress I bought from one of the local shops as her birthday gift. “What a beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.”
Lucy latches on to some of the fabric and fluffs it, letting it flow around her legs. “Thank you. It’s yellow like the sun. Daddy says you like yellow.”
Heat fills my cheeks, and my eyes dart over to find Lincoln’s gaze already on me. “Look, Lucy. Evie’s dress is yellow too.”
Lucy squeals with excitement and takes my hand in hers. “We match, Evie.”
I laugh. “We do, don’t we? We must have good taste.”
Lincoln sighs dramatically. “However am I going to handle two such lovely girls in two such pretty yellow dresses?”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re a silly goose.” Lucy swings his arm even harder.
He smiles down at her, love glowing in his eyes. I swear, this man couldn’t be more attractive if he tried.
We walk down Main Street just like that, hand-in-hand, with Lucy swaying each of our arms at an uneven pace. I should feel ridiculous, especially with the eyes of the town on us. But there isn’t a single thing about this situation that feels weird or awkward. It just feels… good.
The first stop we make is at the face-painting station. Doreen is surrounded by painting supplies, and she holds a brush in her hands, adding the final touch to a butterfly on another little girl’s cheek.
Lincoln waves his hand over the board of face-painting options. “Which one do you want, Lucy?”
She taps a finger to her mouth a few times before her eyes light up, and she points at the bumblebee. “This one.” Then she looks at me. “You too, Evie. We’ll match!”
I was not at all prepared to get my face painted today, but there’s no way I’m saying no to a good time. “Sounds like a great plan.”
Lincoln smiles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s clear that anyone and anything that makes Lucy happy also makes him happy. That’s not why I give in so easily to the little cutie, but it’s a damn good bonus.
Lucy jumps in the chair first, so we wait for her at the entrance of the booth.
Lincoln’s voice is soft when he says, “Thank you for always being so sweet to her.”
I turn to him, surprised. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Lincoln. Lucy makes it pretty easy.”
He nods as his fingers brush mine. “She really does, doesn’t she? You’d almost never know a whole parent was missing from her life.”
I frown, hating that he and Lucy both bear the heavy weight of that statement. “Because she has a father who can do it all.” I wink at him, hoping to lighten his mood.
His fingers sneak in among mine until he’s fully holding my hand. “How are you holding up with everything?”
I know he’s referring to the combination of our last encounter on his couch and the recent Firefly Man killing. “I’m okay. Actually,” I say, perking up a bit. “Patrick called tonight. He’s having the time of his life out there. He says he wants to hand the bar over to me, and I think he was dead serious.”
Lincoln’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s a big deal.”
I nod, excitement bubbling inside me. “It’s what I’ve wanted since he bought the place—I just didn’t think it could happen so soon.”
“Well, you deserve it. You run the place like it’s yours as it is. Everyone there respects you. Business is going well.” He shrugs. “If Patrick is ready to retire, maybe the timing is just right.”
I love how easy he makes it all sound and how much confidence he has in me to take over my uncle’s business. Deep down, I’ve always wondered if I would ever feel any semblance of success in life, knowing how disappointed my parents were in me and my decisions. According to them, my future would amount to nothing, my happiness limited by the pennies I would make. I always hoped they were wrong, but now, I can look back and say without a single doubt in my mind that they were wrong—in every sense of the word.
“Evie, it’s your turn!” Lucy hops off the chair and runs to us, painted face beaming, the most adorable bumblebee I’ve ever seen.
Lincoln squeezes my hand before releasing it so he can scoop Lucy into his arms.
I walk to the chair, smiling at Doreen as I sit down. “Make Lucy proud,” I tell her.
She grins back. “I’ll do my best.”
I’m not surprised when Doreen begins to ask questions about my relationship with her boss. I don’t give her much information, because I’m not sure at all what to tell her. I certainly can’t tell her how I’ve fallen in love with his daughter, and she invited me to her birthday party where Lincoln went down on me in the bounce house after everyone went to bed. Or tell her how the last time I was in his office, I dry-humped him on his couch until an orgasm rocked my world.
“We’re becoming good friends,” I say, hoping to satisfy her with that alone.
A knowing smile plays on her face. “I’m rooting for you. If my old-woman senses are still as accurate as they once were, I’d say he’s very much into you. More so than Lilith Thornefield, by a long shot.” Annoyance radiates through her tone, then her eyes dart past me to where Lincoln and Lucy are standing.
I look over to find Lilith approaching Lincoln with a bright smile, her daughter Willow right beside her. That same spike of jealousy I felt at Lucy’s birthday party hits me again, but it melts away instantly when I see Lincoln take a step backward from the woman when she gets too close. Lilith doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to talk his ear off while Lucy wrinkles her face at Willow. And here I thought Lucy loved everyone.
Stifling a laugh, I decide to ignore the exchange.
Doreen shakes her head. “At least you had the common decency to turn away his professional care.”
I frown. “Lilith is a client of Lincoln’s?”
She blows out a sigh. “Oh dear. You know I can’t divulge the details”—she looks around to make sure no one can hear her—“but yes. She’s requested extra appointments, and you cannot tell me she gives an ounce for that husband of hers who just died. I warned him it’s a conflict of interest, seeing as she just purchased the daycare Lucy goes to.”
“She what?” I practically squeal the question, but no one seems to notice except Doreen.
She simply nods. “Yup. I’m telling you, Evie. I might be an old woman, but I know a thing or two about people. Lilith is after Lincoln—I’m sure of it.”
Nodding, I look back at Lilith, who just happens to turn her focus away from Lincoln for a second to narrow her eyes at me. I could swear that I see realization dawn inside those dark little orbs as she realizes her plot to hook Dr. Lincoln Reed just got a whole lot more difficult.
I turn away, my eyes connecting with Lucy, who is squealing with joy as Doreen finishes my face paint.
A few minutes later, Lincoln is taking photos of Lucy and me, our bumblebee faces matching our attire so well that you would think we planned it. I’m thankful when I realize at some point that Lilith and Willow have disappeared into the crowd. I make a conscious choice not to bring her up to Lincoln. It’s clear by his reaction to her proximity that he’s a very smart man.
One food-truck stop and one temporary tattoo later, Lincoln stops in front of the ice cream stand to get Lucy a strawberry cone. Her eyes widen to capacity when he hands her the delicious treat, the bumblebee art beside her eye expanding too. It’s clear why Lucy is so popular in her class. I’ve never seen a child filled with so much happiness. Lincoln must live for moments like these, when he can watch his little girl bask in the simple joys of life before the world begins to show its true darkness to her.
We walk another block toward a small stage, where a man is strumming his guitar and belting pop-rock hits. Moving her feet to the beat, Lucy tries aggressively to finish her ice cream cone until she can’t stand it anymore. At the start of the next song, she thrusts the rest of her dripping cone at Lincoln and takes off for where a few people are dancing in front of the stage. Lucy moves in and dominates the space, letting her body take her in all kinds of directions.
Eventually, Lincoln goes out to the dance floor to scoop her up—and she embarks on the first tantrum I’ve ever seen her throw, her arms and legs swinging as Lincoln tries not to drop her. Her bumblebee face is all squished as she cries, “I wanna dance! I wanna dance!”
I watch how Lincoln handles it. There isn’t a stitch of annoyance or discomfort on his face. Instead, he leans down and whispers something to her. At first, it seems like it’s not going to work, and her whining intensifies until tears streak her cheeks and snot bubbles out her nose. But I take note of something that tugs at my heart and blankets me with emotion.
Lincoln only loves her harder through it.
After a few more whispered words from her dad, Lucy’s tantrum quiets. Her face starts to dry, leaving tear stains behind, then Lucy throws her arms around his neck… and that’s all it takes.
In that moment, I fall madly, deeply, unabashedly in love with Dr. Lincoln Reed.