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CHAPTER TWENTY

It’s a busy evening on the boardwalk. People walking, biking, running, pushing baby carriages.

When I left the firehouse, I needed some fresh air. Heading to the beach seemed like the natural thing to do.

“We haven’t met.” I say as I drop onto the far end of a bright blue bench that sits on the edge of the town’s boardwalk.

The eyes that turn toward me are shockingly identical to Brock’s.

“I’m Avery Ellis.” I extend my hand.

He stares at it for a few seconds before hesitantly shaking it. Like his dad, his hands are big, but they aren’t roughened by work yet. This is probably what Brock looked like at fifteen too. His son’s going to be built like the chief one day.

Without any idea what I’m doing, I say, “I was in your dad’s office when you came in.”

“I know,” he says flatly and scrubs his hands over his face. Just like his dad.

“Wasn’t sure if you saw me. You were pretty mad.”

“Oh, I saw you and the look of shock on your face.”

We sit in silence as a group of girls on skateboards roll by, their tires whirring on the concrete, their ponytails dancing in the wind. Lincoln doesn’t blink. He just stares ahead at the water, a bitter, hurt look in his eyes.

“Your dad loves you.”

He picks at the frayed hole in his jeans. “That’s a joke, right?” he says finally.

“Nope.”

“How would you know?”

“He told me.”

Finally, he looks at me again. In that tone that only teenagers can make, he asks, “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m a new firefighter that just started working for your dad.”

I don’t mention that things are far more complicated than that. The last thing I want him to think is that his father’s involvement with me is related to his decision.

Lincoln leans forward, props his elbows on his lanky knees and buries his face in his hands. “Boarding school. I can’t fucking believe he’d do something like that.”

For a few seconds, I swallow down my panic. The words ‘boarding school’ still evoke a terrifying rush of chemicals inside my body. A metallic taste fills my throat, and I have to force my breathing to slow.

After sixty seconds of trying to tame my emotions, I ask, “Do you want to talk to me about what’s going on between you and your dad?”

For a long time, he doesn’t say anything. Then he leans back on the bench. When he looks at me again, his eyes look so much older. The boy is gone. The man he’s going to soon be is looking back at me. “Things are fucked,” he says quietly.

“Is something wrong at school?”

His eyes shift away, to the horizon, then to his feet.

Softly, I ask, “Are you struggling with your grades? If you are, I can probably help you. I’ve done some tutoring before.”

Raising a brow, he flatly asks, “Persistent, aren’t you?”

I grin. “Yes.”

“No, it’s not my damned grades.”

“Okay, that’s good. But it’s something.”

He groans, “Of course, it’s something. I wouldn’t have been yelling at my father if it wasn’t something.”

“A girl?” I venture.

That’s when his eyes darken. An electric current stirs in them. Softly, he says, “Belle. That’s her name.”

I hide my sigh. Poor guy. Young love is so hard. “What’s going on with Belle?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

“Look, you sound like the school counselor now.”

I kick at a pebble on the boardwalk. “I’m far from a counselor. My own life is a mess. The last thing I’d want to do is try to fix other people’s lives.”

“Why are you talking to me, then?”

“Because I was sent away to a school,” I say with as neutral a voice as possible, but I don’t fully succeed. If he’s attentive, he’ll hear the tremor there.

His eyes flip to mine. This time, his hurt and anger are even more visible. “I can’t leave. Belle… needs me. She’s got… a problem.” His finger picks furiously at the hole in his jeans.

“Is she in danger?”

He grimaces. “She could be. I can’t leave her to fend for herself.”

I watch him grow more agitated. Clenching his fist, he says, “This group of rich kids… they put a target on Belle. Fucking bullies.”

Puzzle pieces fall into place. “That’s who you got in a fight with, isn’t it?”

He nods and looks away, clenching his jaw. “One of them.”

“How many are there?”

Muscles tick along his young jaw until he says, “Four or five.”

It’s out of line, but I dare to ask, “Why did you go to San Diego?”

“Because the cousin of this guy at our school is the ring leader. He lives there. I guess he saw Belle in a news story about volunteering and he decided she was a prime target for their cruel fucking games. Since then, it’s been hell for her.”

My heart hurts even more for this kid. He’s trying to help this classmate, a girl he obviously cares about, and it’s destroying his relationship with his father.

“Your dad needs to know this.”

“He won’t care.”

I turn to face him. “Lincoln, your dad would care. He’s the kind of man who would not stand up for someone being bullied.”

He leans back, shakes his head. “Man, if you think he’d take time out of his busy schedule to give a fuck, you’re wrong. He’ll be happy to have me out of his hair. Just like he was happy when my mom left. Brock’s a selfish bastard.”

I press my lips tight. The whole picture is a lot different than this fifteen-year-old can see, but there are two sides to every story. And Lincoln feels hurt, neglected, and angry. Emotions I can relate all too closely to.

I was that girl, once.

With a frustrated growl, he shoves up from the bench. “Look, I need to go. He’s going to be tearing this town apart in a fit of rage. I don’t want to see him or talk to him.”

“He’s going to be tearing the town apart because he’s worried about you.”

The tall, muscular kid strides away, but surprises me by stopping. His long legs carry him back to me. “You said you were sent to a school. What happened?”

I’m shocked by the violent surge of emotions in my chest. It takes a few seconds to get my breath. “My father didn’t want my brother and me anymore?—"

He interrupts me, “Your brother went too?”

“No. My brother was turning eighteen in less than a month. My dad just kicked him out. He knew that Gunnar would never stay at the school.”

“But you did?”

My heart flutters weakly as I fight the tightening in my throat. Biting my lip, I nod. “I had no choice, until I got kicked out.”

He lurches toward me and sits on the bench, his attention hyper-focused. “Why did you get kicked out?”

I’m shaking inside now. Every horrible memory unfurling inside of me, coating me with black, evil slime.

“A bully,” I say with a shaking voice. “A bully made my life hell. And his father turned the story on me. The administrators of the school are… were corrupt. ”

Lincoln’s dark eyes bore into me. I know that, just like his father, he has the ability to see far, far deeper than I want him to. “Something terrible happened, didn’t it?”

I’m frozen. The deer in headlights. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe.

He grunts, “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I say it aloud to hear myself say my own mantra. The only thing that helped hold me together all those years ago.

“What school?”

He deserves the truth from me. For an agonizing few seconds, I can’t speak. “Allamance,” I whisper.

His eyes burn darker. “That’s the same one he’s sending me to.”

I nod. “I know. I saw the brochure on your father’s desk.”

He lets out a rough breath. “I won’t go.”

“I’m going to try to convince Brock not to send you.”

“Good luck with that.” He stands up abruptly and gives me a final look. The expression on his young face is far too old for his years. “Don’t waste your breath. And don’t let Brock fool you into thinking he cares.” Then he turns, his shoulders locked tight and strides away, disappearing into the crowd of oblivious people on the boardwalk.