That Girl (That Girl, #1)(35)

“It’s not you. It’s all me.”

Lincoln doesn’t say a word; he just holds me. We sit in silence for several moments before he reaches forward, grabs his phone, and dials a number. I know he’s calling his coach. I listen to his side of the conversation.

“Coach Uni, I need one night.”

“I understand. I won’t ask again.”

“I’ll be there at six a.m.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I’m not in trouble. I just need to be here for someone.”

“’Kay, six a.m.”

I feel Lincoln lean forward and toss his phone back down on the nightstand. Again, he doesn’t try to talk, plead, or fix anything. He’s patient, kind, and caring, and keeps his strong arms wrapped around me. Sitting here, secure in his arms, I feel ashamed to have remembered Duane.

With my head still hiding in his neck, I begin to explain. “His name was Duane. My mom’s boyfriend, and he…”

“You don’t have to tell me, Oakley.”

“I do. He raped me when I was in high school. There was nothing I could do to get away. My mom knew what was happening. Fuck, she’s known about every time I’ve been hurt. Remember, the scar on my palm is from another boyfriend placing it on the stovetop to teach me a lesson.”

I feel Lincoln shudder and grip me tighter.

I continue, “The scar across my neck is from my mom directly. She was stoned out of her mind and pushed me down into the coffee table. I had to have twelve stiches. Everyone believed they were all accidents. I was cooking when I shouldn’t have been, or I was running in the house. The whole town knew what was going on, but let it slide. My hair has been short like this forever because I was always sent home for having head lice. I never took driver’s ed, went to dances, or dated. Nothing a normal teen would do. I grew up in filth and ran away on my eighteenth birthday, and ever since then I’ve been running. Running from that filth and those memories. I change my name with every move.”

This time I feel his tears leak down my shoulder.

“What’s your real name?” he finally asks.

“I left it the day I ran away from home. I don’t have a name.”

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For telling you how f*cked I am?”

“Yes, for sharing with me. Oakley, you have a choice to make. You can keep running, because God knows I’m pushing your limits, or you can stay and be with me. I understand if it hurts too much to stay.”

His words unleash another flood of tears, and this time I can’t compose myself to talk. He’ll let me go because he now understands how much it hurts to be normal and live. I can’t ever be a college student or typical girlfriend.

“Lincoln, you were the first person to stand up for me. That night in the diner is the first time anyone has ever stood up for me when it comes to getting beat down. You were my first kiss out there on that old rickety picnic table. Today was my first ever real date with you. And you’re the only one who knows every single one of my secrets and fears.”

“You’re leaving,” he says sadly.

“I’m telling you I’ve had too many firsts to leave you, but I’m scared to death.”

We both let out a loud sigh and grip each other tighter.

“Can I be honest?” he asks.

His question scares me, and I’m only able to nod.

“I’m not going to stop until I have every single piece of you, Oakley Ann. I’m not going to stop until you feel comfortable with the name you’ve made here. I’m not going to stop worrying about you running in the middle of the night and never seeing you again until I hear you say the words ‘I love you.’ I know what they mean to you and how hard they will be for you to speak to someone. Just know I’m not stopping.”

Silence again takes over.

Lifting his head from my shoulder, I look up at Lincoln, and we drop our foreheads together. Opening his mouth, he gives me the best promise he ever could.

“I’ll give you a name you’ll be proud of, a first and last name that will erase all memories of that girl. Your past will no longer haunt you with me at your side. I’m all in.”

“I want to try. I’ll be open about how I’m feeling. I’d give anything for you to be my first, Lincoln.”

“Right here and right now, we cement the fact that he wasn’t your first. I will be your first when you’re ready.”

“I want to go to your game.”

“I know, and you’ll go, baby.”

Lincoln lays back, and once again I’m on top of him, but all desire to tear each other apart with passion has vanished. Right now, I feel at home with him, a place where I can be broken if need be, be sad and cry, or crazy happy. He feels like home.

Sliding off to the side of him, I ask, “Will you please stay with me tonight?”

“You bet your sweet ass I will.”

There’s my playful Lincoln. Grabbing his iPod, I turn on shuffle and In Love With a Girl starts playing.

“The perfect song,” Lincoln says into my hair.

He’s in love with me and not ashamed of it, even after hearing the worst parts of my past. Baby steps, I’ll have to use baby steps to get to a place where ‘That Girl’ will not control me anymore. I need his skin on me and to be drenched in his scent to help wash away all specks of insecurities.