That Girl (That Girl, #1)(53)

I think it’s a man, and maybe a pink tutu. Shit is whirling, and the two wrestling are hollering and cussing at each other. One loud rip is heard, and they both stop. One very large man gets up from the floor, and one tattooed, blonde woman follows him. Since all the commotion has died down, I spot a row of kids ranging from eight to infants lined up on the bar watching the two. None of them look terrified. In fact, they act as if this is normal.

“I want to go,” I whisper to Lincoln.

Turning to leave, we hear a voice say, “Knock it off, *s. There are customers here.”

A very pregnant woman comes from the back hall dressed up as Snow White.

“Hi, my name’s Milly. Can I help you with anything?” She smooths her gown over her bulging belly.

I start to tell her no we are just leaving, but Lincoln beats me to it. “Nah, just wanted to show my girlfriend your shop.”

I try to steady my trembling hands.

“Oh sweetie, it’s okay. Those two are married, and that’s what happens when you get married,” she tries to explain.

The blonde lays it all out on the line. “This is straight bullshit. I’m not wearing a mother bleepin’ pink tutu. You might as well shove it straight up your ass, Tripp.”

“That’s my best friend Lacey. She won’t bite,” Milly says.

“My ass,” a man says, walking in from the same hallway Milly did.

“That’s my husband, Cree.”

“Watch your damn mouth, Lacey, and put on the friggin’ tutu.”

“And that would be Tripp,” Milly says, indicating the battle-disheveled man.

It’s almost like we are at a sporting arena, and Milly is the announcer.

“It’s usually not like this. It’s kind of tradition for our family to meet up here before Halloween. Can I get you a cup of coffee on the house?”

“Sure, we’ll take two iced mochas,” Lincoln answers and ushers me toward some merchandise.

“I’m kind of scared,” I say to Lincoln under my breath.

“Don’t be. That’s how a family should be.” He seems certain of this, but I’m not convinced.

A section of headbands catches my attention. Lately, headbands and hoodies have been my two new addictions. I can’t get enough of them, and I’m always on the lookout for a new splash of color.

The door dings again, and this time with the sound all the kids erupt in cheers. “Aunt Willow!”

Turning to look, I see another family walk in, a couple with three children, two boys and a baby girl. All of them are decked out in fancy Halloween costumes.

“I’m ready,” I announce to Lincoln.

I found three headbands, some jewelry, and light eye shadow. I’ve found wearing makeup is fun, but I still only use a tiny bit.

“Milly, why didn’t you tell me Lincoln Wilks was here?” The statement came from Cree, Milly’s husband.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Milly replies in a shocked voice.

The oldest of the children jumps off the bar and closes in on Lincoln. She’s wearing a baseball uniform and inspects Lincoln very closely.

“Daddy, you’re right. It’s number twenty-two, the hardest hitting S.O.B. in Colorado.” She stands with her hands on her hips, trying to look tough, but I can tell she’s impressed.

“Annie, back up. Give him some space,” the guy says.

All the men and the little girl circle Lincoln, dragging him into a deep conversation. I stand to the side, not quite sure what to do with myself, so I turn to look at some more items.

“Here are your mochas,” Milly says, placing two covered cups on the counter.

“Thanks. I’d like to buy these, too.”

I hand over the items and pull some cash from my purse. Lincoln usually buys everything, then I pay him back. He doesn’t like that I insist on paying him back, but he despises the fact I always carry cash. He wants me to have a debit card, but that would require identification, and even though I’m okay with him claiming me, I’m still not ready to face my old identity.

“Jesus Christ, Milly,” her husband roars, “You’re not going to make Lincoln’s girlfriend pay for your shit.”

“It’s okay, really,” I assure him.

“No, it’s not,” he fire back.

“You’re not going to win with her. She’s stubborn,” Lincoln says.

The men go back to their conversation, and I push the money back to Milly.

She shakes her head and refuses to touch the bills. “Captain has final say around here. I’m not taking your money.”

The last family that walked in sat a pink car seat with a tiny baby girl in it on the counter. My curiosity takes over, and I peek into the carrier. A little bundle looks back at me. She has black hair and the chubbiest of cheeks.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

Her mom smiles and replies, “Wynnie.”

“She’s adorable,” I say. Looking down at her perfect little body, I wonder if she’ll like her name and one day be proud of it.

“What’s your name?” the blonde asks.

I hear her innocent, mundane question, but can’t force my eyes from the baby. An urge to say my real name hits me. Right here and now, the filth could roll off my tongue. Lincoln wouldn’t hear it, and these strangers would never remember me. At one time, I was just as innocent as this sweet little baby with the perfect name and a bright future, but it’s all been tarnished, and now I realize my worst scar is my name. It’s one Lincoln will never be able to make pretty. It’s the one with the deepest roots, the greatest amount of pain, and the one with the most power to control me forever.