All of You (23 page)

“I know. I just couldn’t wait to see you and
Rebecca told me you didn’t have to watch Tabitha today.” Lincoln
took my messenger bag filled with research books and papers from my
shoulder and held it for me. That simple act alone made my heart
clench and my smile get even bigger. I pulled on the front of his
coat and stood up on my tiptoes. Lincoln bent down and kissed me
lightly, but I was suddenly overcome by the underlying passion
between us, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the
kiss. He moaned into my mouth and twisted both of us around so my
back was against my car, and he pinned me against it with his body.
I moved my hands to his face and held him close to me as we kissed
passionately and I tried to control my intense feelings for
him.

I was just about to pull away from him when I
heard rapid clicking coming from my left. “That’s a good one, Linc!
Now look over here!” a man shouted at us.

I felt Lincoln pull back from me and turn to
shield me from whatever was happening on the other side of him. The
rapid clicking continued as Lincoln all but threw me into the
passenger side of his SUV and shut the door. I was disoriented and
confused as Lincoln jumped in his side of the vehicle and hit the
ignition.

I turned to look out my window and saw a man
pointing a large black camera at me and smiling as he held down the
shutter button.

“Put your head down!” Lincoln shouted at me,
and I felt his hand push me down. I sheltered against the center
console with my head against my knees, and I felt the vehicle speed
away quickly.

I stayed like that until Lincoln told me I
could get up. I looked at him with confusion. “What was that??” I
asked him. Lincoln didn’t answer and my unease grew. That man had
been taking pictures of us kissing. He must have been a tabloid
journalist. But why would they care about me? Even if I was making
out with celebrity hockey player in a parking lot. I didn’t
understand why anyone would ever care about that.

“Fucking vultures,” Lincoln finally spat
out.

“Are those—are those pictures going to be
printed?”

“They’re probably already on the
Internet.”

I gasped. “Why? Who would care about
that?”

Lincoln didn’t answer. He reached for his
Bluetooth earpiece and started talking into it, completely ignoring
me. I eventually tuned him out when I realized I wasn’t going to
get any answers by listening to one side of Lincoln’s
conversations. I wondered where we were going. I wondered if
Lincoln even knew where he was going or if he was just driving
anywhere, attempting to put distance between the photographer and
us. He wasn’t driving us toward my house, nor toward his.

I knew he valued his privacy, but I had never
imagined that kind of intrusion. Paparazzi like that belonged in
Hollywood, not in a parking lot of a research lab in Chicago. How
had they found us? I realized it didn’t really matter to me how
that man had found us. I just hoped Lincoln wasn’t angry with me. I
had been the one who initiated the kiss that had been caught on
camera. He had told me repeatedly he was concerned about his
privacy. I should have had more self-restraint. I sighed and
shifted in my seat, resigned to the belief Lincoln was upset with
me.

Lincoln finally pulled up in front of a large
brick house outside the city. He slowed down but didn’t stop until
we were parked around back, hidden from view. I finally broke the
silence. “Where are we?” I asked him as we sat in his SUV. He had
taken off his Bluetooth and killed the engine but still hadn’t
explained anything to me.

“My parents’ house,” he said simply and got
out of the vehicle. I fumbled with my seatbelt and grabbed my
messenger bag and purse. I looked up and sighed internally with
relief when Lincoln opened my door and held his hand out for me. He
couldn’t be too upset with me if he was opening my door for me. I
looked at him with concern, and he sighed.

“Why are we here?” I continued with my
questions as I took his hand and got out of the vehicle. “Are your
parents here?” I asked even though he wasn’t answering my
questions.

He sighed again. “No, my parents aren’t here.
They’re in Washington. Kenny will be here soon, though.”

“Kennedy?” I asked, confused as we walked in
the back door of the house. We had entered a huge kitchen. It had a
feel of being very old, yet the appliances looked brand new. A
large island counter sat in the middle of the kitchen below a
hanging rack of pots and pans. The cupboard doors were glass lined
with white wood trim, and the countertop looked like antique tiles
but very clean. Everything looked very clean. I was afraid to touch
anything.

A round, friendly-looking middle-aged woman
bustled into the kitchen through a far door. “Oh Lincoln! How
wonderful to see you!” she said and pulled him into a quick hug. “I
didn’t know you were coming over.” She looked between Lincoln and
me.

“Margie, this is Jillian. Jillian, this is
Margie. Margie’s been feeding me gourmet food since I was little,”
he explained with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” I said shyly. I
remembered the meals I had been so proud to make for Lincoln and
thinking sadly my cooking was about as far from gourmet as you
could get.

“Oh, Lincoln exaggerates. I remember more
than one occasion of having to deal with your temper tantrums at
the dinner table because you didn’t want to eat my ‘gourmet’ food,”
she said with a laugh. “Jillian, are you hungry? Can I fix you
something?” I shook my head and declined politely. Hunger was the
least of my concerns right now.

Lincoln clasped my hand. “Ken will be here
soon. Can you tell her we’ll be in the library?” he said to
Margie.

“Yes, of course. I’ll bring you a snack,”
Margie said despite my objections.

I looked around as Lincoln led me through his
parents’ house. It was decorated with expensive antiques and
fashionable furniture. Nothing like my house. Although it looked
nothing like Lincoln’s either. He opened a big wooden door and
ushered me inside. There was a giant fireplace at the far end of
the room with a large flat-screen TV hanging above it. A dark
leather sofa, coffee table, and two dark leather Barcaloungers that
matched the sofa sat in the middle of the room. A wet bar sat
adjacent to a wall covered in books. I immediately went to the
books and began scanning titles. This library housed all the
greats. Plato, Chaucer, Dante, Shakespeare, Dickens, Emerson,
Thoreau. I ran my fingertips over their spines and stopped when I
saw Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, my absolute favorite
book.

I was brought back to reality when I heard
Lincoln’s cell phone ring behind me. Lincoln excused himself,
leaving me alone in this room. I sat down on the sofa and waited
for Lincoln to return.

He had started a fire in the fireplace while
I was looking at the books, and it was making the room warm and
toasty and incredibly comfortable. I snuggled into the couch and
attempted to keep my eyes open. Surely Lincoln would return soon
and explain things. But the longer I sat there, the harder it was
to keep my eyes open, and before I knew it, I was practically lying
down with my head on the arm of the sofa. I blinked one final time
and was unable to open them again. My last thought before falling
asleep was hoping I wouldn’t drool on this very nice, very
comfortable, and probably very expensive sofa.

When I woke up, Kennedy was sitting on the
coffee table next to a plate of meats, cheeses, and crackers. She
was watching me with a small smile. I sat up and the blanket that
had been placed over me fell to the floor. “Oh, I didn’t mean to
fall asleep. What time is it?”

Kennedy shrugged, “It’s early yet.”

I looked around the room. “Where’s
Lincoln?”

“On the phone, still. He’s pretty
pissed.”

I felt shame and embarrassment rise up to my
face, and I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. “I should
apologize to him,” I said softly.

“Apologize?” Kennedy asked with
confusion.

“Kenny,” Lincoln said, standing in the
doorway. Kennedy and I both looked up with surprise. “Can you give
us a minute?”

Lincoln’s sister left the room, giving me a
sympathetic smile as my anxiety grew. I stood up as Lincoln
approached me.

“Lincoln, I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me,
but I didn’t realize that man was there. It was so stupid of me. I
should have shown a little more self-restraint, but I just didn’t
think and now that man has pictures of you, and I’m so sorry.” I
rambled, ashamed of my behavior.

Lincoln stared at me. His eyes were mixed
with anxiety and a touch of anger. “Jillian, you think I’m mad at
you?” He stepped close to me and cupped my face. “I’m not mad at
you and believe me, the last thing I want from you is
self-restraint.” He smiled.

“But Kenny said you were pissed…” I trailed
off. If he wasn’t mad at me, then why was he upset? Lincoln grabbed
my hand and sat down on the couch where I had just been sleeping.
He pulled me down to sit in his lap. He held me closed to him and
rested his forehead in the crook of my neck, breathing deep. It
felt as if Lincoln was trying to calm himself. “Lincoln, it’s okay.
I don’t care if those pictures are printed. I’m not upset.”

“Not yet,” Lincoln said, sighing into my
neck.

I wound my arms around his big shoulders and
hugged him tight. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

He pulled back and looked up at me with
sadness. I moved a hand to his face and caressed his cheek, running
my fingers through the scruff on his jaw. “Kiss me,” he said in a
whispered beg.

I smiled and leaned into him. I moved my lips
lightly over his and kissed him sweetly.

“Kiss me better,” Lincoln demanded and
tightened his hold on me when I pulled away from the first
kiss.

I bit my lip in an attempt to contain my
smile. I kissed him harder this time, and he kissed me back with
intense passion. I moved my hands and threaded my fingers into his
hair.

He surprised me by pushing his tongue into my
mouth and moaning as I began to suck on it. His hands were rubbing
all over my body, and he was getting dangerously close to my scars,
but if he needed me right now I wanted to provide comfort to
him.

So I didn’t stop him as he ran his hand up my
thigh and settled on my hip. He squeezed me there and broke our
kiss by pulling back from my mouth and attempting to catch his
breath. I looked down at him and found him gazing up at me. “You’re
so beautiful, Princess.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, Lincoln.” He seemed so
upset. I wanted him to confide in me. He had emotionally pulled
away from me in the car and then left me alone in this room.

“I don’t want you to worry. I promise to take
care of everything,” he told me as he brought his hand up to cup my
cheek.

I felt alarm and confusion rise up within me.
“Please tell me, Lincoln. You’re freaking me out.”

“I talked to my father’s public relations
person. I had to give him the heads-up that there may be pictures
published about me. When he called me back, he had some
information,” Lincoln trailed off.

“Information about what?”

Lincoln sighed. “The man that was taking
pictures of us works for a tabloid.”

“And?” I asked, confused. I already suspected
that much.

He sighed again. “And the pictures he took
today were not the only pictures he had.” Lincoln paused.

I was still confused. I didn’t see what the
big deal was. We hadn’t done anything together publicly except the
concert and the Winter Festival.

Lincoln rubbed his eyes with frustration.
“These weren’t the only pictures he had…of you.”

I felt uneasy. “So this man has been stalking
me?”

“No. The other picture this man had of you
was not taken by him.”

“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted.
None of this made sense.

Lincoln took a deep breath and exhaled
slowly. “They were taken when you were a freshman.”

Ice-cold fear sliced through me. I felt
nausea overtake me, and I scrambled off Lincoln’s lap.

“Jillian…” He attempted to hold me, but I was
too quick. My despair drove me away from any comfort he tried to
provide.

I pushed away from him and retreated to a far
corner of the room. I closed my eyes and tried to stop the growing
panic within me. If this tabloid man published Mackenzie’s pictures
of me, everyone would see my ugliness. Everyone would see my worst.
The most embarrassing moment of my life, documented on film. I
covered my mouth with one hand in an attempt to silence my
anguish.

“Jillian, Carter is getting an injunction to
prevent this man from publishing the picture. He’s meeting with a
judge within the hour.” Lincoln stood up from the couch, but he
didn’t attempted to come any closer to me. I looked at him, wanting
reassurance, but found only fear in his eyes.

I sank to my knees. This was freshman year
all over again. Everyone was going to see. Everyone was going to
laugh. I was going to lose everything. Again.

Lincoln was immediately next to me on the
floor. He rubbed my arms as my tears fell and repeated to me over
and over, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

My first instinct was to run. I needed to
leave. Not just this house, but also this city. I had to get away
from this. I didn’t think this would be national news. Lincoln
wasn’t that big of celebrity, but it would definitely make local
news. Maybe I could take an incomplete grade on my internship and
find a different university to finish my degree. A different
university far away. But then I thought of Tabitha. I couldn’t
leave Tabitha. Or Lincoln, I realized. This man had become my
everything, and now he was so worried about me. He hadn’t done
anything wrong; he didn’t deserve this treatment either.