IF | A Novel Page 16

  “You know I am not at liberty to answer either of those questions.”

  “He hasn’t. I know he hasn’t. That isn’t who he is. Jesus, he just graduated cum laude. With a sports medicine degree and a job with a major league baseball team,” I argue, almost hysterically.

  “Regardless. I won’t allow it. You are the daughter of a federal judge for god’s sake, one that oversaw his federal drug trial. I sign off on all his parole meetings, Emerson.”

  “You can’t take him away. I’m an adult now.”

  “That is quite enough,” my mother scolds, and I snap my gaze to hers. “Your father’s decision on the matter is final. You are no longer to see this young man. Adult or not.”

  I sit back in my chair and exhale. My gaze slides between the two of them, because no matter how much I argue or fight for Lincoln, their decision isn’t going to change.

  Politely, I fold my napkin and place it on the bone china in front of me.

  I push out my chair and stand, lifting my chin and straightening my spine.

  “Sit down,” my father orders.

  I ignore his demand. “Thank you for dinner. I am going to call an Uber, go home, and finish packing for the movers. They’re coming tomorrow to take my stuff to LA.”

  I turn and walk to the door, stopping when my father’s cold voice booms after me.

  “Emerson,” he clips out.

  I don’t face him. I already know what Judge Shaw is going to say.

  “Mr. Daniels has a few months left on his zero-tolerance probation. It would be a shame if something occurred where he violated the terms set forth by me, including visiting certain people or places that may potentially jeopardize his parole. Or even committing other crimes or offenses, such as being involved in motor vehicle violations.”

  My jaw clenches as I reach for the doorknob. “He wasn’t driving the car.”

  “Mr. Daniels’s limitations are clearly defined in my order. If I feel certain individuals in his life are hindering his rehabilitation, I can, and will, step in to remove his rights to see or communicate with those individuals. Including you,” he warns.

  I swallow the tears, knowing his threats aren’t empty. “Are you saying, if I don’t walk away from him, you’ll put him in jail for violating his probation?”

  “Mr. Daniels has a bright future ahead of him. As do you. It would be a terrible tragedy for either of those futures to be ruined by a case of infatuation.” His tone is sharp.

  And there it is. I have no choice.

  If I don’t end things with Lincoln, his future will be ruined.

  Resigned, I wipe away the lone tear that has fallen down my cheek.

  “I’ll end things with Lincoln,” I say flatly, meeting my father’s pleased look with anger. “But I won’t do it for you.” My eyes slide to my mother. “Or you.” I inhale through my nose, pulling the door open. “I’ll do it for him. And only him. We’re done here.”

  I turn my back on them, leaving my parents in the past.

  Lincoln will be the last piece of my life they will ever control.

  25

  I’m staring at the door across the hall. I haven’t yet found the courage to knock. I have no idea what to say, or how to end this. Maybe saying nothing at all is better than saying everything. I told Kenz I was coming over here to say goodbye, but that’s a lie. I’m here because I just want one more minute with him before I break his heart and mine.

  I love him, which is why I will do what my father has asked.

  I’ve loved him from the first moment he stepped into my world.

  Even though he warned me not to.

  Lifting my hand, I knock on his door. It opens instantly and my eyes fall to his feet, because if we lock gazes, he’ll see desperation and fear, not courage. Because Lincoln sees me, not the façade I always wear. There’s no immediate reaction from him. He senses my apprehension. He knows me. I hold my breath, my gaze finally making the journey up to his. A torn look crosses his expression as he pulls me into his chest in a tight embrace. He doesn’t say anything. I wrap my arms around him, burying my nose in his chest and, for just a moment, I let myself pretend that my father didn’t threaten to take away his future.

  Lincoln closes the door and pulls back a little. Lifting a hand, he brushes away a teardrop on one side of my cheek, then the other; I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

  Frowning, he cups my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. The gesture is so heartbreakingly tender that I have to close my eyes as more tears fall. Then I feel them. His lips softly brush mine, causing a quiet sob to escape from the back of my throat.

  I kiss him back. His thumbs continue to stroke my cheeks, taking away the tears as he kisses me in a way he hasn’t before. It’s soft, tender, and full of promises to take away whatever is hurting me. Sighing, he pulls away, moving his right hand from my cheek, his fingers running through my hair and down my back, resting on my lower back.

  With his other hand, he cups my face, dropping his forehead to mine.

  “I don’t want to talk tonight.” My voice is strained and thin.

  Lincoln looks at me with a mixture of desire and resignation. As if he knows this moment is all we have. Without a word, he holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it.

  I take a deep breath and slide my palm over his. He squeezes my hand and guides me into his bedroom, shutting the door behind us. Cocooning us in our own private world.

  With our fingers interlaced, he tugs me toward the bed. Sitting down, he brings me forward so I’m standing between his legs as he releases my hand. His fingers wrap around my waist and he leans his forehead on my stomach. I shiver and lift my hands, sliding my fingers into the soft strands of hair on the top of his head. We stay like this for a moment.

  Lincoln’s hands slide off my waist and over my ass before he runs his fingertips up and down over the backs of my bare legs, just below the hem of my skirt.

  I shiver at his touch, trying not to think about how cold and empty I will feel without him. Chasing my goose bumps, his fingers move up my leg, under my skirt, until they reach the bottom curve of my ass.

  Slowly, he traces the seam of my panties with his fingers, making my blood heat and my skin tingle. When his hands slide under the material, squeezing my ass, I grip his hair tighter. His fingers twist in my panties. He takes his time pulling them down as he slides off the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of me. At the same time, his hands drift over the back of my legs—slowly taking the thin material with them—behind my knees, ending at my ankles. Letting the garment fall, his hands return to the back of my calves.

  As I step out of my panties, kicking them to the side, his hands slide back up until they reach my ass again. Lincoln grins up at me before his head disappears under my skirt, the material covering him so I can’t see what he’s doing. But I can feel it. Every touch. I gasp as his fingers find my damp center, already heated and aching for his touch. My legs shake as he slips his fingers inside of me and flicks them back and forth. My eyes become heavy with his assault and I squeeze them shut when his tongue finds my clit, circling it with languid strokes that match the rhythm of his fingers. Mine dig into the tops of his shoulders, partly for support, and partly from pleasure. He takes his time, savoring me.

  I bite my bottom lip and cry out when his teeth nip at the sensitive spot he was circling with his tongue. Of their own accord, my hips buck forward as he picks up the pace, licking and sucking me with his tongue, stroking with his fingers. I make a guttural moan as my body pulses around him. My thighs shake and I push up on my toes. Lincoln growls against me, sinking his fingers more deeply into me. I moan in response, and whisper his name.

  He pushes on my clit a little harder and with one last long lick, I cry out, yanking on a handful of his hair. His fingers and mouth disappear before he squeezes my ass and leans back, his head emerging from under my skirt. In one smooth move, he stands.

  Gripping my ass tighter, he lifts me, turns u
s and gently tosses me onto the bed. Before I have time to catch my breath, he pulls a condom out of his nightstand, undoes his pants, and removes them quickly, along with his boxers and shirt. After kicking his clothes away with his foot, he rolls the condom down his shaft and then he’s over me. In one, long, smooth stroke he slides inside of me and my entire body clamps down on his.

  Lincoln breathes into my neck, burying his nose in the curve of my shoulder. He rocks his hips into me and grunts as I lift mine slightly. We barely move against one another. His thrusts are steady, unhurried. With each one, he goes deeper and deeper. Taking as I give him everything.

  His face appears above me and leans down, his mouth a millimeter from mine as he grinds into me slowly. Intense eyes hold mine. Our lips never meet; they just hover there, almost touching. Both of us holding our breaths the entire time. It’s sensual and carnal.

  This is something better and more gratifying than sex.

  It’s a deep connection. One that we’ll only have with each other.

  I whisper his name as I come apart.

  When he follows me over the edge, he grinds out my name before dropping a searing kiss on my lips, lowering his weight onto me, pressing me into the mattress, fitting perfectly against me. It’s a shame nothing else in our lives fits this way. So completely.

  A strong hand presses hard on my lower back, pressing me more firmly against a muscular back. My right cheek nestles into the cool sheet covering the soft mattress.

  The movement causes the tip of my nose to brush against the smooth skin on Lincoln’s back. The curve of his tight, bare ass presses against my stomach as we lay sleeping on our sides, both of us in an odd position, facing his tufted gray headboard.

  I curl into the warmth of his body and his left hand drapes over my left hip, over the light fabric of the white sheet. We haven’t left his room the entire night. Nor had we spoken, other than crying out each other’s names in quiet whispers and deep moans.

  My eyes flutter open, and I stare at the middle of his perfect back.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, I realize just how much I’m going to miss him.

  Saying goodbye to him is going to leave a scar on my heart.

  26

  I feel the tears burning at the back of my eyes. I thought loving Lincoln Daniels was overwhelming. Love had nothing on missing him. I sink into the chair at the terminal. The weight of what I’ve done, what I’ve had to do, consumes me. It will for a long time.

  I’m running away.

  Running away from what I’m feeling.

  Running away from my father’s control.

  Running away from Lincoln’s past and our future.

  I look at my phone, sighing. Kennison drove me to the airport this afternoon with tears in both our eyes. I’m going to miss her. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that she’ll be visiting in February, during her teaching break. After the movers showed up this morning, and there was nothing left to distract me, I booked an earlier flight to California.

  I handed the key over to Kennison to give to Josh, scanned the apartment one last time to make sure I packed everything, and bolted. I know it was selfish, but I just couldn’t face Lincoln again and hurt him. So I took the coward’s way out and ran away.

  Numb, I stare out the window, watching the planes take off and land as I recall our last moments together this morning.

  “Hey,” Lincoln rasps through his morning grog. “Where are you going so early?”

  “Go back to sleep,” I smile sadly at him, getting dressed. “I have to go.”

  “Come back to bed.” He shifts onto his side, looking at me from his pillow.

  “The movers will be here soon. I have to go make sure everything is pulled together.”

  Lincoln frowns, watching me slip my skirt on. “What time will they be done?”

  I shrug, averting my gaze. “Not sure.”

  “I have to head into the city for a team meeting. I should be done in time to take you to dinner tonight. You up for a night out, followed by a night in?” he asks, watching my every move.

  Nodding, I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear and cut him a look out of the corner of my eye. “Sounds great.” I try to make my voice sound light, but it comes off as shaky and timid.

  “Em,” Lincoln’s tone is deep and dominating. “Look at me.”

  Swallowing, I meet his gaze.

  “We’re going to make this work.” I wish his words were true.

  I just stare at him. Not wanting to let go. But I have to.

  “I love you,” I whisper. “Always remember that.”

  Something crosses his eyes as he stares at me. “I love you, too.”

  My phone beeps with a text message. I look down and see it’s from Lincoln.

  Lincoln: Look behind you

  I stare at the three words before squeezing my eyes closed, exhaling heavily. I know he’s standing behind me. Even before the text came in, I knew he was there. I felt his presence. I stand and turn slowly, my gaze colliding with his stormy one. He’s leaning against the check-in desk, holding his phone. Unshaved. In jeans and a T-shirt.

  He’s staring at me with a mixture of longing and pissed off contemplation.

  I didn’t want to see him.

  I didn’t want a confrontation.

  I didn’t want to say goodbye, not like this.

  I just wanted to disappear.

  I just wanted this to be easy.

  I just wanted . . . uncomplicated.

  Lincoln narrows his eyes and takes three large steps toward me. I back up, keeping a healthy amount of space between us. As I do, he stops advancing. The expression on his face is hard. Furious. And full of disbelief that I have the gall to back away from him.

  We stare silently at one another for a long time, until he rubs his hands over his face.

  “Fucking say something here, Em.” His voice is low and deep, gutting me.

  A few of the other passengers seated near us share quick glances.

  “I thought they only allowed ticketed passengers at the gate.”

  “I bought a ticket. Fucking say something else,” he snaps.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Josh called. After Kennison told him that she dropped you off.”

  Exhaling slowly, I nod my understanding. “Those two can’t keep a secret. I swear.”

  He watches me with a torn look on his face. “What’s going on here, Em?”

  Exhaling slowly, my eyes dart around the airport before landing on him again.

  “You were right all along. We have to end this, Lincoln.”

  “I thought we had this all figured?” he points out calmly.

  “We did. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Things have changed.”

  “What things?”

  My hands are trembling. I become so wrapped up in my own head and my own spiral of emotional nonsense that I don’t pay attention to the fact that he’s taken a step toward me.

  “What things, Em?” he snarls.

  “My father.” The words fall out before I realize what I’ve said.

  His eyes narrow. “What the hell does your father have to do with any of this?”

  I look over at an older woman watching us with bated breath.

  “I can’t do this here.”

  Lincoln scoffs, holding his arms out to his sides. “This is where you chose to have this conversation when you left this afternoon without saying a fucking word to me. I mean, what were you even planning on doing, Em? Moving to California and blowing me off?”

  The moment I fall silent, understanding crosses his face.

  “Holy shit. You were?” He pins me with a hard stare.

  “Yes,” I admit quietly.

  “Why? Why the fuck would you do this to me? To us?”

  “My father is Judge Shaw,” I answer flatly.

  His face falls and he takes in a sharp breath. “What?”

  I nod and watch a thousand
emotions cross over his face as realization sinks in.

  “He informed me during my graduation dinner that he—” I pause, looking around again at the passengers watching and listening. Annoyed, I walk over to Lincoln, grab his wrist, and pull him into a private corner near the gate’s door so we can speak more privately.

  Angry, he yanks his wrist out of my hold. “Don’t touch me. Not now.”

  I lift my chin, trying not to appear hurt. “My father told me that he was the judge who oversaw your case. That he signs off on your parole officer’s reports.”

  Lincoln’s jaw clenches. “Yes. A Judge Shaw is in charge of my case.”

  “Did you know I was his daughter?”

  “No, Em. I had no friggin’ idea that Judge Shaw was your father.”

  I search his eyes, the truth as clear as day behind the angry storm brewing in them.

  “I would never have put you in that position if I had known,” he adds.

  “I know you wouldn’t,” I reply blankly.

  My shoulders sag from the weight of everything lingering between us.

  Taking advantage of the fact that my guard is down for the briefest moment, Lincoln steps into my space, not giving me time to retreat. I tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

  “That’s the reason that you’re running from this?” He motions between us.

  Blinking, I chew on the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him knowing my father threatened his future. He doesn’t need to know. It’s better if he thinks it’s something else.

  “My father is the judge in charge of your parole,” I state. “Our relationship could put his job at risk. Besides,” I pause, swallowing. “How do you think it’s going to look if a judge’s daughter is dating a parolee?” The words taste like poison coming out.

  He goes unfocused for a moment; he’s lost in thought.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were shoving my past in my face.”

  I stand my ground, staring straight into his eyes.

  I have to do this. I have no choice. I have to be strong.