Where We Found Our Home by Natasha Bishop

 

Ciara

Ithought Lincoln Cole was sexy because he’s got the body of a god, saves lives for a living, is good with his niece, and makes me laugh.

Those reasons are still valid, but I was not prepared for the version of Lincoln that talks me back to sleep after I had a nightmare and convinced myself my worst nightmare had made it inside my apartment. That’s some romance novel level shit, and I am not equipped to deal with that. This session with Dr. Goodwin could not be coming at a better time.

“So how are you settling into your new city?”

“I’m good. Things are good.” I mindlessly wrap a braid around my index finger. When I finally realize I’m doing it, I pray Dr. Goodwin hasn’t noticed, but her eyes tell me she has.

“Have you been exploring the city? Meeting new people?”

“Against my better judgment, yes.”

“Why do you say against your better judgment?”

“Because why would I want to drag anyone into the drama that is my life?”

“Are you feeling unsafe there?”

I’ve actually felt safer here than I have for a long time. I know the reason for that is a certain six-foot-two firefighter. He has cast his shield around me, allowing my breaths to come easier. It’s a false sense of security though. He’s not indestructible, no matter if he seems that way. I shouldn’t ask so much of him. Especially when he’s not aware of the shitstorm swimming around me. “I mean, I’ve had feelings of being watched or like someone is in my apartment, but I’ve been careful and there doesn’t seem to be anything to it, so I think it’s leftover paranoia.”

She makes a note in that god-awful notebook. I hate that fucking notebook. It holds my darkest moments. My greatest fears. My biggest regrets. When we first started therapy, every time her pen would move toward that notebook, I’d clam up. Now I’m used to the rush of anxiety that flows through me every time she writes down another judgment. “And you still feel that not telling your friends and your mom about the threats Eddie made against them is the best decision?”

“Yes. If I had told them they would have done everything in their power to stop me from moving.”

“And why do you think moving was your only option?”

I’m so incredibly tired of reliving this. I grab my laptop and move from my living room to my bedroom. I need the comfort of my bed for this conversation. “He was everywhere. Everywhere I went, all I could see was his face. I had to leave for my own sanity. It just wasn’t home anymore. It was my own personal hell.”

“And the threats don’t play a factor?”

“Of course they do!” Ugh, she’s too good. All she does is ask a question with that tone and I’m spilling my guts. “He said he’d kill them all. He said if they tried to protect me, he’d tear them limb from limb to get to me. How could I stay after that? I will not have their deaths on my hands.”

She takes a pregnant pause before asking, “Do you feel you deserve to die, Ciara?”

I try to wipe my tear before it falls, but it’s too late. “No.”

She’s silent, and I know her game. She’s staying silent waiting for me to keep going, but I won’t do it.

“It’s not that I think I deserve to die.” Damn, I’m weak. “I just…I escaped death three times. I feel like I used up all my lifelines. Somewhere along the way I accepted the fact that I would die at his hands and that’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay but you know what I mean. I just would rather I be the only one he takes. I cannot accept the deaths of my loved ones because I brought this man into our lives.”

“You didn’t bring him into your life, though. This all started as a random accident. And even if you had known Eddie on a personal level before this all started, you in no way deserved for any of this to happen.”

“He chose me for a reason. I just wish I knew what it was.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “You can’t dive into the mental psyche of someone else. You can only focus on yourself.” That’s exactly what I need to do though. I dive into the psyche of murderers and criminals for the sake of entertainment. Yet I can’t see into the psyche of my own tormentor.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Tell me about the nightmares. Are you still having them?”

“Not as frequently,” I lie. Why did I lie? I told myself I wouldn’t do that during my sessions since I’m lying to everyone else, but here I am. “They um, actually changed a bit.”

“How so?”

“Well, it still starts with the morning of the stabbing. And sometimes I still see my mom, or Brittany, or Sarah, or Simone staring back at me when I turn the body over, but now sometimes it’ll be Lincoln I see. Sometimes it’s his sister Sasha, or his niece Nevaeh, or my friend/boss, Nina, too. But Lincoln’s always the worst. It’s always the most gruesome when I see him.”

“I see. Who is Lincoln?”

I dive into the mystery that is Lincoln and tell her all about him and the circle of friends I’ve reluctantly built here.

“So why do you think Lincoln’s is the most brutal?”

Because my feelings for him are on a level I am in no way prepared for. Shut up. “I really don’t know. I actually called him after the nightmare I had last night.”

“Seeking comfort?”

“I guess. And also I thought someone was in my apartment after I woke up, but I confirmed there wasn’t on my own.”

“And what did Lincoln say or do?”

He became the hero I needed and refused to have all in the same breath. “He offered to come over but when I insisted I was fine, he stayed on the phone with me until I went back to sleep.”

“Do your feelings for Lincoln make you uncomfortable?”

Get out of my head, Dr. Goodwin. I mean, I know I literally pay you to get inside my head, but I want you out right now.

“Who said I have feelings for him?”

“Do you?”

“Ugh, yes.”

“But you’re not ready to explore them.”

“You said that like a statement, not a question, so should I answer?”

Her lips purse into a line, and I feel bad for snapping, but I know she doesn’t take it personally. “You have to do what feels right to you, but I would encourage you not to put yourself in isolation, because that’s what Eddie wants you to do. You’ve built a circle of friends in your new city that seem to genuinely care about you, and your friends and family back here are in your corner. I know you want to protect everyone but your head and your heart are in battle over it, and you need your full strength to conquer the real battle.”

She’s got that right. My head and my heart are in full out war with each other, and my soul is losing because of it.

I’m in a funk after today’s therapy session, and I don’t want to talk to anyone, but Sasha’s name flashes on my screen and I force myself to answer.

“Hello.”

“Ciara, it’s Nevaeh!” My smile immediately grows tenfold. I guess the universe sensed I needed a pick-me-up in the form of a tiny caramel diva.

“Well, hello, cutie. What are you doing with your mommy’s phone?”

“I borrowed it to watch YouTube.”

“Ahh, of course.”

“Are you busy today?”

“For you? Never. What’d you have in mind?”

“Could you come to my mommy’s shop and visit us?” I was planning on writing from home today, but with the mood I’m in all of my characters are going to end up getting picked off so it’s best I take a break. Plus, I need a Nevaeh hug. She gives the best hugs.

“I would love to. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Okay!” Her excitement is so contagious.

I head over to my closet, suddenly happy to get the rest of my day started.

That little girl is nothing but trouble. Lesson learned. When little Nevaeh asks you to do something, ask for details because chances are she’s playing you.

I was prepared to spend my day with the little brat and Sasha. I was not prepared to see the man I cannot get out of my head, in reality and in my dreams, in full uncle mode with Reggie’s kids, Malcolm and Denise.

“Hey, what are you up to today?” Lincoln asks when he puts his niece back on the ground after spinning her around for what seemed like forever. He’s not even remotely winded. He could definitely toss me around.

And I am going straight to hell for having that thought with children present. Oh well. Insert Kanye shrug here.

“I don’t know, Nevaeh, what am I up to today?”

“Oh Lord. What did you do, little girl?” Sasha asks her daughter.

“I just wanted Ciara to hang out with us.” Oh damn, she’s already mastered the art of choosing your words carefully. Sasha is in for an adventure with this one.

“This is true. I just didn’t know who ‘us’ was.” Nevaeh smiles proudly, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to shake a child until this very moment. She’s so damn cute though.

Lincoln’s eyes twinkle with amusement, and he wiggles those bushy eyebrows at me before motioning to the other two kids. “Ahh, she got you with the wordplay I see. Welp, you’re here now. Ciara, this is my nephew, Malcolm, and this is my niece Denise. We just call her Niecy though. Guys, this is our friend, Ciara.”

Malcolm throws me a head nod and Niecy gives me a small wave. “Hi,” they say in unison.

“Hey, guys. Thanks for letting me hang with you today.”

“No problem. Nevaeh never shuts up about you,” Malcolm says.

“We’re going to the park and then we’re going to the arcade and then Uncle Linc’s house.” Niecy lays out the agenda.

“Oh, well I’ve definitely picked the right day to tag along then. Lead the way.” Except to Lincoln’s house. I don’t want to step foot inside the place where that hunk of man gets naked every night. Nope. No, thank you.

“Good luck!” Sasha calls out, and I can’t even process what she may mean by that.

We’re at the park when a chocolate lab runs by dragging his owner along with him. “Ooh, look at that puppy. I want a puppy so bad. Linky, will you tell my mommy to get me a puppy?” Nevaeh begs.

“Absolutely not. I like my balls, and I’d like to keep them where they are.” Lincoln shakes his head as he speaks. Malcolm laughs, and Niecy makes a disgusted face.

“What are balls?” I laugh at Nevaeh’s question and throw my hands up in surrender. You’re on your own here, buddy.

“Ummm. Woah, look at that puppy!” He points to a French bulldog running around with its owner.

“Ooh, where?” Nevaeh turns and awws at the puppy cuteness.

I look at Lincoln, and we have a whole conversation with our eyes.

Nice save.

Thanks. That was a close one.

You might want to watch your mouth next time.

Smart-ass.

“I want to play a game,” Nevaeh declares.

“What should we play?” Lincoln asks.

“Tag?” Nevaeh says, her voice full of hope.

“Tag is boring,” Malcolm whines.

“Yeah, it’s just we’re older than she is, so her little legs won’t let her catch us,” Niecy offers.

Malcolm is nine and Niecy is twelve, so I can imagine it’s hard to have to include a five-year-old in your games, and they’re nearing the age where they won’t want to include her, but Nevaeh worships the ground they walk on. I want them to find a common ground.

“What if we make it more challenging for everybody?” I ask.

“How do we do that?”

“We’ll play TV Tag instead of regular tag.”

“What’s TV Tag?” Niecy asks, but her voice goes up a little bit. I might be onto something here.

“It’s still Tag but there’s no safe spot. The only way to not get tagged is to stop and shout out the name of a TV show before the It person gets you. And you can’t repeat the show the last person said or you get tagged anyway.”

“Ooh, I know a lot of TV shows.” Nevaeh is pumped. I know when she’s at Sasha’s if she’s not coloring she’s usually watching a show on Sasha’s tablet, so I figured this would be a good twist for her. I used to love TV tag when I was a kid.

“And Nevaeh gets three cheats. She can call on me or Uncle Linc three times to carry her if she’s It.” I gotta give the munchkin an advantage somewhere.

“Okay, I like it.” Malcolm is on board now too.

“But how does someone win?” Niecy asks, and right there I’m convinced she’s going to grow up to be a lawyer just like her mom.

“In the last round, the It person has to tag everyone before the players untag each other and they win. Otherwise, the players win.” All the kids nod their head in agreement.

I look up to find Lincoln watching me, and I squirm under his gaze.

Take that heat elsewhere, sir. There will be none of that today.

We play rock, paper, scissors to figure out who’s It first, and of course it’s Lincoln. Then it’s off to the races.

We’ve been playing way past the point of this being entertaining for me, but I’m glad they’re having fun. These kids are fast as hell. I need to up my cardio game. I may be strong but I am slow. Good Lord. Honestly, I’m praying for a full-blown asthma attack to give me an excuse to take a break, and I don’t even have asthma. Whose idea was this?

Don’t answer, I know.

Malcolm has picked up on my weakness, and he’s beelining straight for me.

“Golden Girls!” I yelp at the last second. Malcolm stops and looks at me in full-blown confusion.

“What’s Golden Girls? You can’t make shows up.”

Gasp! “What’s Golden Girls? That question is blasphemous.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Good point. Anyway, it’s a real show, I swear. It came out in the eighties.” I cross my heart.

“That’s old!”

Ouch. I’m not sure why that hurts my pride, considering I wasn’t even born in the eighties, but still, how dare he disrespect the ladies. “I’m going to trip you, kid.”

He chuckles. “Uncle Linc, is Golden Girls a real show?”

He cackles. Once again, he’s not even slightly winded. Okay, Linc. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.

No, stop!

“Yeah, it’s a real show. Blanche was my first girlfriend in my head.”

Oh my God. “Wait, are you serious?” The man winks at me again.

“Okay, fine. You’re safe for now,” Malcolm decides then leaves me behind in pursuit of Niecy.

Malcolm and Niecy may be faster than Nevaeh, but it’s impossible to tag her because her knowledge of TV shows is unmatched.

“PAW Patrol!”

“PJ Masks!”

“Doc McStuffins!”

“Boss Baby!”

“Bunk’d!”

“Magic School Bus!” The kid is a machine. Niecy finally catches her after she accidentally repeats “Carmen Sandiego,” but she is ever the strategist.

“Linky! I wanna use my cheat. Carry me!” I crack up as Lincoln rushes over and swoops her up.

“Last round!” he declares right before going after Malcolm. He’s on Malcolm before he can even form one word. One down. Niecy is next, and she gives it her all but she’s too winded to even say anything, so she’s down too. I’m the last one, and I pretend to run away, but really I’m grateful my lungs will be able to draw air again, so I can’t wait to be tagged.

Lincoln catches up to me in seconds, and he whispers in my ear right before Nevaeh tags me. “Don’t run from me, Angel.” My pussy clenches at his words, and I am a fucking goner. I feign a dramatic fall as Nevaeh tags me to hide the fact that I desperately need friction between my thighs.

“Good game, Nevaeh!”

“Yeah, you were so good!”

I love that Niecy and Malcolm are celebrating Nevaeh’s win right now instead of being sore losers, and it’s enough to get my sinful-ass vagina in check. She may be the queen, but I can’t bow down to her with children present.

Nevaeh’s glee at her win lasts the rest of the day. She’s all smiles at the arcade, and Niecy and Malcolm are all too happy to let her play with them at all the games. She’s in heaven, and I love that for her.

“You’re great with them,” Lincoln says as he sips his water.

“Aww, they’re great kids. Today was a lot of fun.”

We’ve been at the arcade for an hour and the kids show no signs of slowing down, so Lincoln and I have claimed a table at the connected restaurant where we can watch them but also relax.

“Well, thanks for coming with us.”

“I don’t think I had much of a choice, but it was my pleasure.”

“Yeah, what Nevaeh wants she gets most of the time.”

“Like niece, like uncle, I guess.”

“I don’t get everything I want, Ciara.”

Fuck. I’m in dangerous waters here, and yet here I am. Throwing my paddles overboard.

“What is it you want that you don’t have, Lincoln?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for that answer.” His eyes drink me in slowly.

Gulp. “You’re probably right about that.”

“You’re getting close though.”

“Oh really? You can sense that?”

“Yep. You’re so close I can taste it.” He licks his lips.

Oh, shit. Where are those paddles? Can I get them back, please?

“Lincoln,” I rasp. I’ve got to get us back to calm waters.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.” Unless that question is “can I take you the nearest bathroom and fuck you.” In which case the answer will be “yes, but I don’t want to end up on some sort of list so please don’t ask.”

“What are your thoughts on dating someone with a dangerous job?”

Huh. “That is not where I thought you were going with that.”

“Oh, I already know the answer to my other question, but this is the one I’m really curious about.”

“What other question?”

He flashes that goddamn smirk at me again. “Answer the question that was asked, Angel. Please.”

There’s a desperation in his voice. He needs this. “Let me guess. We’re talking about a dangerous profession like a firefighter, correct?”

“Any job where safety is constantly at risk. Firefighter, cop, military. Any of it.”

“So you’re asking if I’d have a problem dating someone who did that for a living?”

“Yes. And would you ask him to quit?”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with it, and I would never ask him to quit.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Never? You really think you can say never?”

“Without a doubt.”

“How so?”

Lincoln and I are entering dangerous territory here. We’re obviously not talking in general terms and yet I don’t want to shy away from the question. I feel like this is a make-or-break moment for us, and even though I’m not ready to address the feelings I have for him, I do want to be clear in my feelings on this. He needs my complete and total honesty.

“Dating someone who puts their life on the line every time they walk out the door is not for the faint of heart. It takes a special person to accept that. But high risk brings high rewards, and being loved and cherished by someone whose heart is big enough to be willing to sacrifice for others every single day is an honor. And to ask a person who has made it their purpose in life to save lives and change the world to step away before they’re ready is a cruel injustice.”

His eyes widen, and he looks away for a moment. When his beautiful eyes meet mine again, I see a whole host of emotions swimming in them. Appreciation. Respect. Doubt. Fear. Anxiety. Hope.

My gut reaction is to reach for his hand, and I do. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just…I wasn’t expecting that answer, and I don’t know what to do with it, to be honest.”

“I’m missing part of the story here, aren’t I?”

He nods. “I was in a serious relationship three years ago. Her name was Erica. We had been together for three years, and we were gonna get married. I always knew my job was hard on her—it’s hard on all significant others—but she kept it to herself for the most part. I didn’t even know she was hurting. Until I got hurt on the job really bad once. I got trapped in a bad fire, evacuating the family out, and I almost didn’t make it. After that, she begged me to quit because she couldn’t handle it anymore. But that’s just not me. I was put on this Earth to do this. I believe that with my whole soul, and I couldn’t give it up. She told me I didn’t love her enough, and she left me.”

I watch as the painful words spill out of him. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders after sharing that and yet I can tell that weight he lifted was barely a drop in the bucket.

“I’m sorry, Linc.”

“That’s not the worst part. She umm, died.” I gasp. It’s quiet but he notices. I stay silent hoping he continues and am grateful when he does. “One week after breaking up with me, she was on her way to her parents’ house in San Antonio, and she was in a really bad car accident.” I wince at his words as a certain memory threatens to overtake me, but I won’t let that overshadow Lincoln’s needs right now. “I was called to the scene, but I was too late. I couldn’t save her.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry, Linc. I know that doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things, but I am truly sorry.”

“I just feel like if I couldn’t save her life, the least I could’ve done was not waste the last three years of her life. She could’ve been happy elsewhere. But she stuck with me hoping I would choose her over my job, and I didn’t. Who knows, maybe she wouldn’t have even been on that road at that time if it weren’t for what happened between us.”

Shit. The pain radiating off of Lincoln right now is unbearable. I want to take it all away from him. I realize in this moment how much I’ve really grown to care for this man. It’s terrifying. How did I let this happen?

“Listen to me. She didn’t deserve to die, but if I can be honest, she didn’t deserve you either. You didn’t steal her happiness, Linc. She gave it to you because you were worth it. You are worth it. Her issues with your job were more about her than you. It was wrong of her to ask you to stop. She put you in an impossible position, and if you had given it up for her you would’ve grown to resent her because you are absolutely right that you were meant to do this. You can’t blame yourself for what happened after the break-up. It’s okay to mourn her, but do not take that guilt on or it’ll eat you alive.” I would know.

He squeezes my hand in thanks and then promptly changes the subject. This day is nothing like I expected. I got an impromptu play date with Lincoln’s whole family and a heart-to-heart with him in the middle of a crowded-ass arcade. This is a whole new brand of crazy, but it feels like a brand that’s imperfectly ours. I’m honored that he chose to open up to me today. I feel ten times closer to him now that he shared his history and ten times guiltier that I didn’t share mine with him.

Can I really bring him into my shit? Definitely not today. Today has been heavy enough. But shit, maybe. Just maybe.

“What are you doing next Friday?” Lincoln asks, bringing me out of my trance.

“Umm, I’ve learned to be very skeptical with this family, so I’ll say it depends. What’s up?”

His shoulders shake with laughter, and it feels so good to hear that laugh again. “It’s my birthday. I’m going to have a cookout at my parents’ house with my siblings and a few friends. Very low-key. Will you come?”

His birthday? I wonder why he never told me before that his birthday was coming up. The crazy thing is there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ll go to his birthday cookout. I can hear it in his voice how badly he wants me there, and I don’t want to disappoint him. I’m about to agree to meet Lincoln’s parents, the last sibling I haven’t met, and his friends. Shit is getting real.

“In that case, it’s my first Friday off in forever so yes, I’d love to come.” And the smile on his face is worth the pain I feel in the pit of my stomach right now.