That Girl (21 page)

“You’re terrible. What if someone’s watching us?” I hiss.

“Then they are about to get a good show.”

“Stop.” I bat at his roaming hands, not sure if I should be laughing or alarmed.

Lincoln refuses to listen, hoisting me up, pinning me against his chest and the side of his truck while he devours my lips. I hold back for a couple seconds, hoping he will back off since we are in a very public place, but when he grinds against me, I dive straight into his trap. When I ease back into him, Lincoln pulls me from the side of the truck, opens the door and lays be across the back seat.

“Lincoln, what are you doing?”

“Trick or treat, baby,” Lincoln says with a devilish grin, tugging my panties down and lifting my skirt.

“Lincoln,” I squeal.

I feel his breath first, then his tongue darts out and takes a taste.

“You know this is my favorite treat, so give it.”

His head disappears again, and I feel his tongue and then two fingers slide in and out. My hands always find the same spot when he does this, gripping his hair and pushing him further in.

I can barely catch my breath. “Lincoln, Lincoln, oh my God, please.”

My hips join in, and with one final swipe of his tongue I spiral out of control and tug harder on his hair. Finally, I fall all the way down in the back seat of his truck, completely relaxed and exhausted.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve got a good grip,” Lincoln says, rising over me and rubbing his scalp.

I feel his hands as he rearranges my panties and skirt, and then lays over me with both of our feet dangling out the door.

“It’s all your fault that I pull so hard.”

He grins, completely without shame. “Blame it on my sweet tooth.”

“Do you think there will be cotton candy somewhere?”

“Yes,” he says chuckling, “but you’re on a two bag limit.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s roll.” He makes no attempt to move.

“Get off me.”

“Good idea. I want to take you to that shop first.”

We walk down the sidewalk of the cute little town.

“This place could totally be in a movie. I love it here,” I say.

“I’ve always wanted to move here when I settle down, knock my wife up and raise our kids in this town.”

“You’ll be too busy in the NFL.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

I take his hand. “I do.”

“Oh, there it is across the street.”

And just like Lincoln described it, there sits a brick building with a rustic sign hanging above the door, The Shop. When we open the door a loud ding signals our arrival. Immediately, I’m in heaven. There are all sorts of crafts, accessories, and artwork, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee hits you hard. My eyes don’t have long to look before a ruckus on the floor catches my attention. It’s like a mini-tornado or something, and all I can make out is long blonde hair flying, and a man.

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, assholes. 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.

“My name is... My name is Oakley. Sorry, I can’t help but stare at her.”

“Do you want to hold her?” her mother asks.

Before I can respond, the blonde chimes in, “Of course she does. You can see her ovaries screaming right now to make a baby. I have good radar, and she wants to hold sweet Wynnie.”

She has the baby unbuckled and in my arms before I have the chance to respond. At first, my whole body tenses up, then Wynnie shoots me a huge toothless grin. There’s just something about babies’ cheeks that make you smile like a fool.

“Hey, sweet little girl,” I croon.

The women go back to fighting over the pink tutu, the kids compare costumes, and the men talk the game. I’m left holding the baby with no ears or eyes on me. Tears start to well up as I think about my past and how one day Lincoln will have to know everything, down to my name and the town that owned me. I’ll have to come clean if we ever want a wedding, kids, or to go on a simple vacation. All of that requires proof of ID. One day I’ll have to decide, but today I just want to temporarily relieve the pressure.

Leaning down, I whisper my real name into the baby’s ear. It doesn’t fix anything, but it soothes the ache inside me. It’s out, I said it, and I’m okay.

Chapter 16

Game Day at 1,014 Miles

Me: I love you. See you after the game.

Lincoln: I’m scared.

Me: Be yourself. Be us. I love you.

Lincoln: There’s cotton candy waiting on your seat.

Today is the day of all days. The day Lincoln gets to lead his team straight to the championship title. His whole family is filling up their season ticket seats, even his brother. Lincoln’s convinced he came solely for media purposes. He has a bye week and is always looking to put himself out there for the media exposure. He sat with his parents only for a few minutes before he went down to the sidelines. Lincoln’s dad and mom stayed in their seats acting like the two perfect parents. This is only the second game they’ve attended. They had eight opportunities to support him and chose not to.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I hear Jewels and then feel her elbow in my side. She’s trying to point out something. I track her finger, and my eyes land on Monica. She’s sitting right next to Lincoln’s mom. We haven’t seen her for months. Not even a run-in on or off campus. She turns around and flashes me a huge smile. My blood boils when I notice the jersey she’s wearing. It’s Lincoln’s number.

“Hi, Oakley,” she hollers over her shoulder.

Even though we are only a few rows up, I act as if I can’t hear her. I don’t want her antics to affect the game at all. I know Lincoln will be looking up in the crowd, and nothing will hinder his game.

The song
Let Go
pours from the speakers, and the crowd goes insane as the team takes the field. There’s an electric buzz around the stadium, even more than usual. Everything is taken to a higher level, the competition, the noise level, and the nerves. Jumping up on my chair as usual and waving my cotton candy, I wait for Lincoln’s eyes to find me. It doesn’t take him long, and he raises his helmet to me. He doesn’t take an extra second to look at his mom or who is sitting by her.

“Thank God he didn’t see that,” Jewels says, pointing toward Monica.

I agree. “Yes, because we know he tends to overreact when it comes to that bitch.”

We both laugh at several memories of Lincoln overreacting to Monica-related incidents. It’s not funny, and we shouldn’t be laughing, but sometimes it’s the only thing you can do in ugly situations.

“What happens if they lo…” Jewels tries to get out.

I’m not about to let her finish that sentence. “They’re not. This is our game and our house.”

“Jesus, you need to get a job as a motivational speaker,” Jewels jokes.

“I just have faith in them.”

The crowd settles down as we are forced to take a T.V. timeout before the game starts.

Sitting down, Jewels asks, “Have you told Lincoln?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I tear off a wad of cotton candy. “I didn’t want him worrying about it before the big game.”

“Oakley, it’s not a worry. You think he’ll be mad, don’t you?”

I simply shrug, not knowing how to answer her.

“He’ll be mad if you take care of it. I can’t believe you’ve even thought about it,” she says, trying to catch my gaze.

“Jewels, I never said I was going to. I just said I’m undecided.”

The announcer riles the crowd up, saving me from any further interrogation from Jewels – and from my own thoughts. There are camera crews everywhere. Actual cameras are swinging from a skyline. Yes, everything is hyped up at this game.

Four quarters later, fifty-four to seven, and Lincoln is a conference champ and named the MVP of the game. Unlike other games, loved ones and parents rush the field to get to their players after the trophy presentation. I watch as Monica is right by Lincoln’s mom’s side as they search the field for him. He’s just leaving the platform with his MVP trophy, putting on his new conference champ hat, and scanning the crowd.

“Let’s go,” Jewels says, pulling my hand.

I follow her lead, walking down to the gate, only to be stopped by a security guard.

“Only family.”

“We are,” Jewel immediately pipes up, stroking a hand over her now visible baby bump for emphasis.