Her eyes are suddenly bright. “That dude with the blue eyes and tattoos?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Fuck. Yes.” She pumps her fist into the air. “He totally looks like a good time. I hope he calls.”
Shaking my head, laughter slips past my lips. “Cover for me. I’m gonna take off for a couple hours, but I’ll be back later.”
“You’re going to find him, aren’t you?”
Nodding, my eyes drift around the bar. Every table is filled. It’s crazy busy, and I know now is not the time, but I want answers, and I can’t think until I have them.
Mal says she’ll cover for me. Outside, I walk to the end of the pier and take the coaster from my jacket and punch the number into my phone. He doesn’t answer. Maybe Bear gave me the wrong number.
I walk with my head down, avoiding the puddles and fallen branches as I make my way back to the bar. Wind picks up off the ocean, a plume of smoke draws my attention toward the sand. I don’t have to look up to know who’s standing there, but I do, and I’m met with a curious expression.
Tossing his cigarette into a nearby fire pit in the sand, he watches me, his jaw tight, eyes clouded with emotions I don’t understand. “Looking for me?”
I nod, my hands in the pockets of my jacket. I don’t remove them because I’m afraid if I do, he’s going to see my hands shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a son?”
He looks tired, with messy hair and bloodshot eyes. I notice little things. Like the creases in the corner of his eyes. I realize then, not only do I know nothing about him, I don’t know how old he is either.
Shrugging, Lincoln scratches the back of his head, his eyes fixed on the ocean. “Does it matter?”
Why would he be mad at me for asking this? My sinking heart falls at his feet. His curt reaction gives me chills. I hate the tone of his voice. It’s like he’s saying, it doesn’t matter because you mean nothing to me. And I suppose, in part, that’s true. Pushing out my own breath, I fight through emotion. Breathing in cool air, I stare at the darkness surrounding me. “I guess not.”
I see anger flash in his eyes before he reins it in, replacing it with an indifferent smirk. “I have to go.” Without another word, he leaves, his head bent forward.
“Right,” I mumble, my eyes drifting back to the ocean. I kick the toe of my shoe into the sand and let it sink in. Here’s the problem. I sank. The sands of lust and attraction pulled me under, and now here I am, regretting it.
I won’t allow myself to be this girl. Not anymore. So I follow him.
“Hey!” I yell, running through the sand to catch up with him. He reaches the dunes before he stops.
A tick of silence passes between us before he turns and faces me. Restlessness rolls from him with each breath as he rubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. His weary eyes focus above my head, as if he can’t bear to look at me, if even for a second. His posture turns rigid, his face hard. “What?”
My heart recoils at his disinterest, and I blink. I hadn’t expected him to stop. Something hits my chest. An emotion. A fear. Maybe both. This guy… he’s perfect, in every flawed way for the girl with a temporary life. My head warns while my heart begs to keep a hold of him.
My entire body fills with an unfamiliar ache, and then he touches me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I gasp, unprepared for his words and his touch. It holds meaning, depth, and sorrow, as if he’s apologizing for more than “hey, by the way, I have a kid.” My brow furrows. “Okay.” I’m not expecting his apology, but then again, this is Lincoln. Nothing he does is what I’m expecting. He’s barged his way into my life, and now I can’t ignore him even if I wanted to.
He nods. “Okay.”
Taking the drawing from my pocket, I hand it to him. “He made this for me.”
“Who?” His brow furrows, our fingers brushing one another as the drawing passes from my hand to his. “Atlas?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
His eyes remain downcast on the drawing. I motion toward the bar in the distance. “I have to get back to work.” And