That Girl (That Girl, #1)(57)
“I can’t believe they threw you in.”
“They’re *s. What were you going to tell me?” He snatches a towel someone thrusts at him.
“Nah, nothing. It can wait until morning.”
He begins mopping water from his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Let’s go find some dry clothes,” he says.
I follow Lincoln, and we get stopped repeatedly for cheers and congratulations. By now, I’m shivering from the cold weather. For December, it was a beautiful day, but now the sun is going down, and the air is freezing. Most of the people are in the heated, glass-enclosed patio. I nudge Lincoln’s back to go there. Making our way in, I’m shocked by the sheer amount of people in the tiny space.
“I’m going to go grab some dry clothes from Levi’s room. I’ll be right back.”
Before I have the chance to respond, he’s off, and I’m standing in a room full of strangers. I recognize some of the team, but most look like friends of Lincoln’s parents. I keep scanning the patio looking for Jewels. No sign of her. My gut churns when Monica walks out the same door Lincoln just went in.
I find the corner furthest away from where Elaine and Monica stand. The two of them look like a pair of guard dogs positioned there. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what their plans are. They have their claws out and ready to grab Lincoln. Monica has the name, looks, and perfect pedigree for Elaine’s boy, and she is hell bent on making it happen. Luckily, I’m surrounded by a few familiar faces from the team in the corner, which makes waiting a bit easier.
“Can I get everyone’s attention, please?”
Lincoln is standing at the tallest point on the deck with a little black package in his hands.
“I just want to thank everyone for coming here tonight. This has been the best season of my life. I have the best teammates and coaches a guy could ask for.” He gestures to where the team has gathered and waits for the resulting applause to die down. “It means the world to me to have my dad here to celebrate this occasion. I also want to take this time to thank my girlfriend.”
I instantly wish this corner was about five more miles back, because all eyes turn to me when Lincoln points in my direction.
“Since the day I met her, I haven’t been able to keep her far from my thoughts. Oakley Ann…”
“Whoa, whoa,” Elaine chimes in, “Not so fast. I have a surprise of my own for you two.” She pushes toward the platform where Lincoln is standing. “When Lincoln brought Oakley home, Larry and I both fell in love with her and wanted to know more. Oakley was very quiet about her family and past. So, surprise, sweetie.”
With her last words, one more couple walks out the door and stands next to Elaine.
My mom and Duane.
I’m immediately crazed with panic. Old familiar smells fill the patio, burning flesh tears at my hand, cuts begin to rip open down my neck, blood flows from every ragged wound as they both stare back at me.
“It seems our Oakley is a runaway, and these here are her parents.”
“Actually, her name isn’t Oakley. It’s…”
Everything happened in slow motion until Duane opened his mouth, and like a sledgehammer everything was brought back into full swinging action. His voice, my name, and the memory of him moaning it as he took everything from me punch me in the gut.
I see him. Instantly the smell invades all my senses before my feet can steady themselves. His touch tears at my flesh. She’s there standing and smiling by him like a perfect mother. The perfect impostor. They are a matter of feet in front of me. Elaine is announcing their presence to everyone, branding them to me for life. Their ruthless way of living being tattooed upon my skin in front of everyone.
The look on Lincoln’s face pulls the hardest on my weakened heart. He knows. He knows Duane was the man to take me first, invade everything and leave me bleeding on my mattress. The memory of walking the streets of my town with torn, raw flesh rapidly controls all my senses. Lincoln knows and is standing a mere inches from the two who have done nothing but devastate me shred by shred every moment of my childhood. If it wasn’t Duane, it was another exactly like him.
Run, you need to, run. Don’t look back. Everything is exposed. There’s no chance of pretending anymore. Even thousands of miles isn’t enough. Nameless and hopeless. The two possessions I require to survive.
My heart and soul are the only things to hear the next few words.
Goodbye, Lincoln Wilks.
***
I don’t think, I just run. There are parked cars everywhere. I wind my way through them and keep running. The voices in the patio are becoming more and more jumbled, but not Duane’s voice moaning my name. It’s loud and screaming in my ear.
“Fucking cars,” I shout, weaving through a whole line of parked ones.
I spot a clearing of timbered land and dodge into the dark field and keep running. Lights ahead alert me of a nearby street. The closer I get, the more lights I spot. Turning, I don’t see anyone chasing, so my feet keep their steady pace.
My foot slams down further than expected; I realize I just stepped off a sidewalk and into a street. It’s dark, so I keep going. A loud honking catches my attention, and looking to the right I see a bright light heading straight toward me, and I don’t run.