Page 27 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

LINCOLN

My skin continued to burn in embarrassment after we boarded the bus to head up to the abandoned mines and haunted house.

The ride took us twenty minutes outside of town.

Our tour guide spent the entire time going through repurposed jokes and setups for tourists' questions.

I tried to listen in because even from those recycled talking points, I gleaned inspiration.

But the twisting feeling of shame weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I’d done well with keeping the vital things under wraps. So, letting my potential probation slip left my system stunned. This day wasn't supposed to end with such a thud. We'd been wonderfully high off over-sugared lemonade and first kisses.

I’d never been properly introduced to embarrassment.

I didn't understand the intricacies of this spiral of regret.

Now that Celeste knew about my failure and had seen me trying to press forward without much explanation, I was anxious about what would come next and how I could shift her attention to something lighter and less about me.

"It's not a big deal," I said once when I deboarded the bus and stepped into the dusty, abandoned mining town.

Celeste looked up, quiet as she waited for me to continue. Her eyes were soft with understanding for a story I had yet to relay and with empathy I'm not sure I deserved.

"Not to me," I said.

The tour guide moved toward the boarded-up mine entrance. Camera flashed, lighting up the dim space. Everyone took photos of remnants of lives we'd never really know and stories that got more fictional with age.

"And so, what if it was a big deal?" she asked. "What's wrong with things being a big deal?"

She rested her hand on my bicep. It was barely any weight, but it was an anchor holding me in place. It was a connection I didn't want to sever.

"When things become a big deal, they become out of my control."

We’d fallen behind the group again. I suggested this tour to distract Celeste from the stress of work. Now, I'd pulled her into my own twister of fear and uncertainty. I've never even cracked the door open for someone to see the storm. I wanted to shut it now, but she’d already slipped inside.

"You don't have to keep glossing over the hard parts with me. I know I'm anxious and worried about everything, so if you're hesitating because you think I can't handle it, don't. Please, let me decide what I can handle."

It was dark enough that the solar lights lining the mine's entrance flickered on.

A soft blue light bathed Celeste, highlighting her beautiful eyes and cooling her skin.

Despite everything she battled on her own, Celeste was willing to jump into the deep end and face my shit too.

It was an honor and privilege I knew I don't deserve.

I was desperate to be deserving, though.

To figure out all my bullshit and be someone worthy.

"I keep it from everyone," I reminded her. "Because I'm not good at the more serious stuff. It makes me feel…"

Useless. I liked being the entertainment. I liked if the room was heavy, I could lighten every load in under a minute. The ability to do that was far more addictive than anything I've ever taken. My identity was intrinsically tied to being someone no one had to worry about.

"It's not because of your anxiety I'm holding back. This sharing stuff is new to me.” I looked toward our group starting to the bus once more. "It's going to take some time."

Celeste nodded, understanding. "But you'll try? With me, at least?"

I smiled, fingers aching to take her hand in mine. "Of course."

"Now?" She beat me to the hand grab, braver and more sure in this moment. Her delicate fingers felt strong wrapped around mine.

My forehead wrinkled, confessed at her request. "Now?"

"Now," she confirmed. "Well…after the tour bus takes us back to town."

I laughed. "As long as it means I get to be with you, I'm in."

The night's alive with a humming of cicadas and the glow of billions of stars. Celeste turned off her headlights before we turned onto her street and parked her car in the driveway. She placed a finger to her lips when I opened my door.

"My brothers are home for the summer," she explained. "And I've never brought anyone…I like home."

"I'm good with families," I promised when we'd softly closed her doors and met at the front of her car.

"To be honest, I want to be selfish and keep you for my own a little bit longer," she confessed. "You'll undoubtedly think they're cooler than me, and I'll probably never get you back."

"Do you ever think there will come a day when you understand the magnitude of how much I'm into you?"

Celeste pressed her lips together, trying her best not to smile too much. Instead of answering, she grabbed my hand and tugged me behind her toward the backyard. She had a hard time opening the gate, going slowly so the hinges wouldn't squeak. I took over after watching her struggle for a minute.

"First time sneaking someone in?" I asked, using my old trick of shutting the gate completely.

"I do this all the time," she said, confused when I gestured for her to step back. "I have an entourage of lovers."

"Figured." I swing the gate open quickly, minimizing the squeak.

She clapped silently, impressed.

"It's all about accepting it'll make noise no matter what and knowing all you have to worry about is how much."

"A philosophy for life, truly." She grabbed my hand again, pulling me into the backyard.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down at the sight of the woman of my dreams leading me somewhere new.

Her hair was bathed in moonlight, appearing softer and more heavenly than ever.

I tugged her to a stop for a second, earning a confused eyebrow raise.

"What's wrong?" She turned to me, framed by the hazy glow of fireflies buzzing behind her.

"I just…" I shrugged. "Wanted to see you."

"Were you not looking this whole time?" she teased, dipping her gaze down for a second. I tucked my fingers underneath her chin, coaxing her head back up.

"I was, but it didn't feel like enough." I kissed her and we melted right into each other. Every one of my nerve endings was on fire, longing for the incredible relief only she could offer.

"Was that enough?" she whispered against my lips.

I swallowed and shrugged. "Getting there."

She laughed under her breath and resumed tugging me through the yard.

The grass was overgrown. There was an old shed on one side and a small bird bath tucked underneath some trees on the other end.

The main event stood in the middle, built on a large oak tree, which I was confident possessed some sort of magic.

Everything around it seemed to be dying, but the tree was teeming with life.

I followed her up the ladder. She turned on soft, pink lights and shut the curtain. There were blankets scattered all over the floor, and a box overflowing with CDs lay open in the middle. While I have to kneel, Celeste could almost stand at her full height.

"Sit, sit." She gestured for me to take a place among the fluffed pillows.

I lowered myself down. "This stuff of childhood fantasy."

She laughed and joined me. "You grew up in a candy store."

"When I was a kid, I'd give up all the candy in the world for a treehouse." I leaned all the way back, taking in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Someone had arranged them to mimic a few constellations.

Once she grabbed another pillow and made herself comfortable, she joined my stargazing.

"These are impressively accurate," I mused.

"Can you name them?" she asked.

"Some." I nodded and reached for her hand. She watched as I folded all her fingers except the index. I used her as my pointer.

"Ursa major," I said.

"Easy," she teased.

"Orion, Leo, Cygnus."

She hummed, a little more impressed.

"Aries," I said. "Gotta know that one."

"Your sign?"

I nodded. "What's yours?"

She directed my hand to the crab.

"No way. That means your birthday was recent. Or is it soon?" I pushed myself up on my elbows, shocked when she nodded.

"It was recently," she confirmed.

I frowned, damn near heartbroken. "Celeste, you didn't say anything."

"Purposefully, would you believe it?" she teased.

"I would have loved to celebrate. Everyone would have."

"I know, which was why I swore Naomi to secrecy." She played with the edge of my sleeve, her long nails grazing my skin now and then.

"Have you always been like this?" I asked on a more serious note. "So hesitant to be seen? Celebrated?"

She nodded, not meeting my eyes. "I can't tell you why.

It's probably a combination of things. Being the youngest and the only girl in my family.

Being naturally more nervous and cautious led to all my family members doing everything for me.

I started depending on it and, at one point, couldn't imagine living without it.

And then, when I became a teenager, everything was heightened. "

She laughed a little to herself. "I started becoming acutely aware of how I affected people. And I really didn't want to offend them because…"

"What?" I prompted. She was the closest she had ever been, and I didn't want her to start drifting away.

"I just remembered something." Her brow furrowed as she revisited the memory. "That's so weird...my parents used to be so upset when I talked back."

"You? Talking back?"

She smiled, tilting her chin up a bit because she was proud of the fact. "I went through that phase like most teens do. But I wasn't too forceful. The few times I was tough didn't end up well. And my brothers weren't around, so when my parents were mad at me… the house was quiet."

I nodded, knowing all too well how silence could make a home in one's bones. "Sounds lonely."

Celeste shrugged, her smile fading. "By that point, I had plenty of practice dealing with that feeling."

I watched as she traced lines over the veins on my arms. I wanted to make up for all those quiet years.

Wanted her to know she could speak her mind without fear of being iced out and abandoned on some island.

There were healthy ways to discipline a kid.

Kinder ways. But between how they took care of their properties and the small things I continued to learn about Celeste's childhood, I figured whatever discipline that'd been given had been unfair and neglectful.

"I shared a secret." Celeste's voice was soft. She relaxed on the pillows, gazing up at me, guard vanished. I brushed my thumb across her cheek. No matter what happened out there in the world, past, present, and future, she'd be able to find this kind of peace in my arms.

"Now, it's your turn," she said.

"You're not going to wine and dine me a little?" I was joking, but Celeste sat up and crawled over to a mini fridge. I'm ashamed to admit how much I admired her ass while doing it.

"Ask and you shall receive," she handed me a bottle of water. "Wined."

And then, a bag of pretzels.

"And dined." She smiled, very proud of herself, and cuddled right back next to me, pressing her cheek against my arm.

"By still my beating heart," I said with a sigh because she smelled so good and felt so right next to me. "Seriously, be still. This is kind of getting embarrassing."

Celeste raised a brow and pressed the back of her hand to my chest. "You weren't kidding. You do like to be wined and dined."

"Honestly? My heart's rarely not doing this when I'm with you."

"You're joking."

I shook my head. "Celeste, everything about you makes me feel like I'm taking both my first and last breath. Every semblance of chill doesn't exist when I hear your name."

"You're so dramatic," she said, trying her best to keep her voice light, but I could see the change and realization in her eyes. I was serious about this. About her. This wasn't some fling or crush I'd move on from after some time.

"But you like it," I said, hopeful. "Don't you?"

She bit on her bottom lip, trying to tame a smile. "I…"

"I won't judge," I promised.

"Yeah?"

"I can't get you out of my head, no matter how much time and space stretches between us. And I've tried. Before this summer, Celeste, I tried very hard. I'm not and will never be in the position to judge."

I think there were tears in her eyes, but I couldn't confirm before she tugged on my shirt, pulling me in for a kiss. The world outside the treehouse might as well have faded into nonexistence because nothing else felt as real as being here with her.

Our kisses became urgent. Neither of us interested in oxygen if that means parting from one another.

Her body was soft underneath mine. When she hooked her leg around my waist, her skirt fell above her thighs.

I've experienced a lot of things, but none can compare to the simple pleasure of my fingers pressing against her thighs.

"I hadn't told anyone about the probation," I confessed when we took a breath.

I'm disconnected from the most critical parts of myself, lost in a maze, and trying to get every hang-up I have out of my way because, like our clothes, it's a bunch of nonsense keeping us apart.

"Because it's not something I can talk my way out of, and I don't think I'll be able to recover from how they'll see me. The disappointment and..."

"And?"

"Resignation," I said. "My parents once said I was a lost cause. And I've been trying to bury that idea ever since. That's the haunting I should have been worried about."

She pulled away a little to get a better look at me. Concern casted a shadow over her face. Celeste brushed her thumb across my cheek as if my hurt were something she could wipe away.

The heat between us faded as she seriously took in my confession. I followed her lead ruefully, even though I wouldn't mind letting my wound fade into the ether.

"You do know that isn't true. That it never was," she said. "And no one in your life, no matter what mistake you make, is going to believe that."

"Mm." I hummed and tried to pull her back into me.

"Lincoln," she protested. "At least, some part of you knows that that wasn't your baggage to shoulder?"

"I want to, I really do," I said, knowing after all this, I couldn't lie to her. I didn't want to after being completely seen by her and having the chance to be wholly known.

She nodded, ever gentle and understanding. "We'll get you there. Just don't hide it anymore. None of us can help if we don't know what's going on."

"I don't plan on hiding," I promised. "Not when I'm with you."

There was no reason to hide from Celeste. When she looked at me, she didn't see one part. I wasn't the class clown. The hockey goalie. The party guy. I was everything I wanted to be, and more.

When Celeste looked at me, she expected me to have more to offer and to be unfinished, which she saw as something good. And inspiring. And hopefully, as something that was hers.