All of You Page 5

  “Thanks,” I said, blushing. “We’ll see how things go. I might be just grasping at straws with my research.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Research is trial and error. Lately it seems like it’s more error than anything. But this is my first big research project, so chances of it succeeding are slim.” I shrugged. “At least, that’s what my boss says. I’m just an intern.”

  “Your boss doesn’t support your research?”

  “He does… to an extent. His family owns the company, so it’s their money that’s funding my research. He knows positive results are few and far between, and he’s fine with that as long as it appears their investment will pay off eventually.” I shrugged again. “It’s a gamble. But I’m not too concerned right now. I’ve only really been working on this since my internship started last semester. So far, there’s not a lot of time or money sunk into it. It’s going to be a while before we know for sure that I’ve failed,” I said with a small laugh.

  Lincoln looked concerned as he peered over his sunglasses and met my eyes. “Why are you so sure you going to fail?”

  I started getting uncomfortable. I was talking about myself too much. “That’s just the likelihood.” I looked down at my gloved hands as I wrung them. “I hope my research produces something someday, but we’ll just have to see.” I looked away, back toward the pond.

  “Jillian…,” Lincoln said in a tender voice. He moved a half step closer to me and leaned on the railing next to me. He drew a finger down the back of my hand to my coat sleeve. I swallowed a gulp and took a step away from him.

  “Um. If this is about my coat, you really don’t need to feel guilty for it. Like I said last night, accidents happen.”

  “This isn’t about your coat. Although I am still willing to buy you a new one.”

  “Then what is this about?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Lincoln said plainly.

  “Well, if you didn’t want to talk to me about the coat, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, confused. There was nothing else the two of us could possibly have to talk about.

  “Everything. Anything,” Lincoln said with a smile. “I want to know more about you. I want to talk to you and get to know you better. When I first saw you watching the parade, you looked so beautiful. I wasn’t lying about your smile last night in the tent. You looked so beautiful and happy. I couldn’t help but stare.”

  Crap. It seemed like Rebecca was right, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t used to guys hitting on me to begin with and Lincoln was way out of my league. I don’t even have a league, I thought miserably.

  “But then there was the hot chocolate incident…,” Lincoln continued. “And you didn’t even care about your coat. I’m not used to that. Most women are more concerned with their appearance and would never have wanted to get messy. But you didn’t even care.”

  I blushed. That’s why he wanted to talk to me? Because I didn’t care that he had stained my coat. Not only did I feel ridiculous now that he thought I didn’t care about my appearance, I also felt a flash of jealousy. Did he have a lot of women around him? I supposed so. Women probably fell at his feet. And they were probably all beautiful and worthy of his attention, unlike me.

  Ugh. I nervously tried to fix the hairs that had fallen out of my messy ponytail. He thought I didn’t care about my appearance, and then I had seen him this morning with the just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and now I hadn’t even had time to shower today. Oh my God. No wonder he thought I didn’t care about my looks! I knew I was undesirable, but I still tried. I usually wore make up and tried to do something with my hair. I wanted to at least look normal as far as others could see.

  I pushed off the bridge railing and started walking again, and Lincoln followed. I hoped by the time we got back around to where we parked he would be done with his spiel and I could go home and forget this ever happened.

  “Why do you do that?” Lincoln asked, surprising me.

  “Do what?” I spat out impatiently.

  “Run from me.”

  I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t tell him the truth without explaining about my past, and I wasn’t about to do that. “It’s just better this way,” I finally answered.

  Lincoln stopped walking and grabbed my arm, turning me to face him. He took his sunglasses off and looked at me. “You said that last night too. But was it so bad at the bar?”

  I thought of the countdown and how much I had wanted him to kiss me at midnight. Yes, it was that bad at the bar last night. “You don’t understand.” That was all I could think to say.

  “What don’t I understand? Do you… do you have a boyfriend?” Lincoln asked timidly.

  Yeah. Right. “Ugh… no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “And you’re not gay?” he asked seriously and stepped closer to me.

  I snorted. “No, I’m not gay.”

  “Then I don’t see what the problem is.” Lincoln’s mouth descended to mine. He kissed me softly at first, waiting to see if I was going to pull away. But when I didn’t, he put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss.

  I had never been kissed like this before. It felt as if Lincoln poured his whole fiber of being into that kiss. A warm, excited feeling flowed through me and I brought a hand up and grabbed the short hair at the back of his head. I knew I should push him away, but in this one brief moment all I wanted was to never stop kissing him. I had wanted him to kiss me last night so badly.

  Lincoln’s hand moved from my shoulder, down my arm, and settled on my hip, and he gave a gentle squeeze there. That squeeze was all it took to snap me back to reality. I gasped and wrenched away from him. He looked at me with confusion. I took several steps back from him and eyed him warily.

  “Jillian?” Lincoln took a step toward me with his hands out. I held my hands up and looked him in the eye.

  “What do you want, Lincoln?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “Jillian…I —”

  “I don’t know what your intentions are, but I told you last night, this is not happening,” I said, interrupting him. I knew I was being cruel, but I also knew there was no way Lincoln would be interested in me if he really knew me. The easiest explanation to why he was acting as if he was interested in me was that he wanted something from me, although I had no idea what that would be.

  “My intentions?” Lincoln said with a hurt look in his eye. “My intentions are that I wanted to get to know you better. I’m not sure what you are implying, and I’m sorry if I pushed you too soon, but you seem like a really great person, and I wanted to get to know you better. Spend some time together. I don’t meet a lot of people that are genuinely decent people. Most people I meet are not good people. They are only interested in either my money or my career, or they want a piece of the fame.” Lincoln looked deeply at me. “You don’t seem to want any of that. I don’t usually meet people like that, so when I do I tend to cherish those connections.”

  I was dumbstruck. I never imagined he would have problems with relationships. “What about all those people in the bar?” I asked. “Aren’t they your friends?”

  “Some of them,” he said shrugging. “Deacon’s a great guy. Most of the guys on the team are really great guys, and my family is always there for me, but it’s still…” He trailed off.

  “Lonely?” I prompted. Lincoln’s eyes locked with mine, and he nodded. But instead of feeling empathy for him, I resented the fact that this amazing man could ever claim to be lonely. What could he possibly know about being lonely? All those people at the bar last night were happy to see him. I had never felt that way in my life.

  “I probably sound like a spoiled rich kid right now,” Lincoln said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Yeah, a little bit,” I said and smiled. He let out a small laugh but then looked at me seriously. I disliked that he thought he knew anything about being lonely. But at t
he same time, I realized he had feelings too. I was so scared of being hurt again, however I knew my sister was right. I couldn’t hold my past against him.

  “Jillian… when I saw you at the parade and after the hot-chocolate incident, I thought I had met someone who was not only gorgeous but might not care about all the craziness that normally surrounds my life,” Lincoln said with hope in his voice. I felt a sliver of sympathy for this man and then felt guilty for trying to push him away. Dammit.

  Lincoln’s face drew up into a big smile as if he knew he had made me feel something for him. “Can we just start over? I’ll introduce myself again, and you won’t give me a fake name this time,” he said, and I blushed and looked away. He pulled my chin up gently, forcing me to look up at him. “And you won’t leave me standing alone in a bar,” he said quietly. I swallowed as I realized I had hurt him by abandoning him last night.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, regretfully. “I didn’t think you’d notice I left.”

  “Of course I noticed. I couldn’t take my eyes off you since I saw you in the tent.” He reached up to caress my cheek with the back of his fingers, but I pulled away again.

  “Lincoln… we can try to be friends, but that’s all this will ever be,” I said, sadly.

  “Why?” Lincoln asked. “You don’t want me?”

  “It’s too soon. There are things you don’t know. I don’t know if I can trust…I don’t really know you.” I stumbled over my words, hating how lame I must have sounded.

  “Jillian. Jillian. It’s okay.” He paused and took a step back away from me. I looked up at him confused.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling warmly. “My name’s Lincoln Monaghan. I’m 26. I play hockey, and I love hot chocolate.” He extended his hand for a handshake. I rolled my eyes at him, but smiled and shook his hand. He grasped it tightly, and his eyes shone with hope.

  “Hi. My name’s Jillian Thompson. I’m 24, and I don’t really know a whole lot about hockey,” I admitted, blushing slightly.

  Lincoln laughed out loud. “Nice to meet you, Jillian,” he said and I smiled back. Maybe this would be okay. Just this. Nothing more.

  Chapter Five

  We continued our walk around the pond, talking easily. He gave me a brief explanation of the rules of hockey and we talked more about my research and college classes. We discussed Lincoln’s hockey schedule and what he did in the off-season, and I commented on how close he seemed to be with his siblings.

  “I know I can trust them with anything,” Lincoln said while nodding. He talked about being popular in high school but not being able to develop a deep friendship with anyone. He never knew who would ask for information about the senator’s family in an attempt to get a scoop on a new story, and he was never sure whom he could trust. The media salivated at the idea of cracks in a politician’s personal life and would do whatever it took to exploit information. His parents forbid him to go to any parties in high school, knowing underage drinking and drug use even recreationally by a senator’s son would be front-page news, even though he promised to behave. Life got better for him once he got to college. He was away from the pressures his parents put on him, for the most part, although he still had certain responsibilities as a member of a political family.

  “Sorry,” he said when we were almost back to his vehicle. “I probably sound like I’m complaining about everything.”

  “No, it’s fine. I can’t imagine being raised like that.” I sympathized with him.

  “Oh, I don’t mean to make it sound terrible. I really do love my family. Especially Ken and Carter.”

  “Kennedy seems really nice.”

  Lincoln let out a small laugh. “Yeah… sorry about her last night. She doesn’t usually drink like that,” Lincoln said, apologizing for his sister.

  “Oh, that’s okay. It looked like she was having fun. That’s the important part,” I said with a smile. “Why wasn’t your brother there?”

  Lincoln shrugged. “He’s still under my parent’s influence. He thinks it’s a bad idea to be seen at bars or parties, even though he’s in his midtwenties now,” Lincoln said sadly. “He’s probably going to follow in Dad’s footsteps.”

  “Oh? He’s going to run for office?”

  “Not yet. He’s still too young for that. But he’s currently working on Dad’s legal team, so if he was spotted at a party and the cops ended up getting called or something, it would be very, very bad.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. Maybe I had been too hard on him earlier when I thought he couldn’t know what it felt like to be lonely. That life sounded very isolating.

  “Okay, enough about me. What about you? What’s your family like?” Lincoln asked, switching the focus back to me.

  “Um… well, I was born and raised in Chicago. Never lived anywhere else…” I trailed off. I didn’t really want to talk about myself, and I definitely didn’t want to tell him about my past.

  “How long have you lived with your sister?” Lincoln asked, prompting me to continue talking.

  I smiled. “Rebecca got pregnant my senior year of high school. She was in her last year of nursing school. Our mom was furious but refused to let her drop out of school. She moved back home for a little while after Tabby was born. After Becca graduated, she found a good nursing job and was able to get her own place with Tabitha, but she worried about daycare. I needed to move out of the dorms my freshman year, so I moved in with her to help. I took as many classes online as I could so I could stay home with Tabitha while Becca worked. If I needed to go to study group or a lab session and Becca was working, our mom would watch Tabby. It worked out well.”

  I thought about Tabby’s first year. I had been so hurt and alone. My freshman year of college had been awful, and if I hadn’t had my Tabby Cat to keep me sane, I would have been utterly depressed. But just holding Tabitha in my arms most days kept me from thinking about how hurt I had been.

  “What about your dad?” Lincoln asked.

  “Oh. My dad died when I was ten,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to get into the details about how my father died and how I had been scarred. He didn’t need to know that.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. How did he die?” Lincoln asked with pity. Everyone in high school had pitied me. I hated it. It made me feel even more like a freak.

  I didn’t answer at first. I thought about all the personal information Lincoln had just shared with me, knowing he was raised with a fear of personal information going public. He had trusted me with his personal stories. I could at least answer his question.

  “Our house burned down in a fire,” I finally said without looking at Lincoln. But I heard him gasp.

  “He died in the fire?”

  I nodded. “They said he probably passed out of smoke inhalation before he died, so at least he didn’t die in pain,” I said quietly, desperately hoping the tears didn’t come to my eyes. It had been a long time ago, but the passage of time didn’t lessen the pain.

  “Jillian…,” Lincoln said tenderly and stopped walking. I turned back to see why he had stopped, only to be enveloped by his big, strong arms. He was hugging me. I hadn’t been held like this in a long time, and it felt so good. I felt like, in that moment, he didn’t want anything from me other than to provide comfort.

  I wrapped my arms around him and pushed the side of my face into his hard chest and inhaled. He smelled amazing. It was like candy to my soul.

  “Thank you, Lincoln,” I said into his chest.

  He rubbed my back in a small circle. “Anytime,” he said and kissed the top of my head.

  We walked the rest of the way to his vehicle in silence. Lincoln hit the button to unlock the doors, helped me in, but then stopped before closing my door. I looked up at him in surprise as he leaned against the doorframe.

  “I feel like I should apologize to you,” he said, looking at the ground.

  “What? Why?” His tone made me a little panicky. I thought things had gone well, considering th
is was the first time I had opened up to anyone since… well… for as long as I could remember.

  “I… I’m sorry. Here I am complaining about my life when the only problem I really had was my parents sheltered me too much.” Lincoln sounded ashamed, and I reached my hand out to his arm.

  “Hey. Lincoln. Don’t worry about it. We all have our struggles.” I gave him a small smile.

  He looked up at me. “You lost your father, Jillian.”

  “Yes. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault, Linc. Trust me I went through years of therapy before I was able to say that. I don’t think any less of you because you still have both your parents. Everyone has his or her own things to deal with. I don’t want to dwell on it. It was a long time ago, and I’d rather focus on the positive in life,” I said, trying to put him at ease.

  Lincoln stared down at me without moving for a long moment. He then moved his hand up and brushed his fingertips lightly across my cheek. “You are an utterly amazing person, Jillian Thompson,” he finally said.

  Utterly amazing? Me? I wasn’t anything special, but he closed my car door before I could argue with him.

  Lincoln hopped into the driver’s seat and smiled over at me as he put his seatbelt on and started up the vehicle. “So you never wanted to move out? Get your own place with friends?” Lincoln asked, trying to lighten the mood. His question was innocent, but I felt dread and embarrassment. I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t have any friends. He would find out eventually how big of a freak I was, and then he would abandon me as well. But I covered up my pain with a smile and blamed my niece.

  “Well, you met Tabby. Could you leave her?” I asked warmly.

  He chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”

  Lincoln drove us back to my house in comfortable silence. I was lost in thought over this man. I was still unsure of his intentions. I didn’t have enough confidence in myself to believe that he was attracted to me. He was out of my league — that much was plain to see. But maybe we could be friends. He seemed like a kindred spirit. An equally lonely soul. But that could just be a ruse. I sighed involuntarily and mentally kicked myself. I hated having those negative thoughts and letting my past rule my life, but the past still hurt and made me gun-shy. As Lincoln pulled up to the curb outside my house, my stomach growled. “Are you hungry?” Lincoln asked.