Page 29 of One Fiery Summer

He leans into my touch, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then let's work on those insecurities together. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me.”

A small laugh escapes me, mingling with the remnants of my tears. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he says, sealing it with a soft kiss.

As we stand there in my entryway, wrapped in each other's arms, I feel a sense of peace settling over me. The doubts aren't completely gone—I know it will take time to fully overcome them—but for now, in this moment, I choose to believe in us.

“So,” I say, pulling back slightly to look at him. “What do we do now?”

Lincoln grins, that boyish smile that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. “Well, I was thinking we could order some takeout, maybe watch a movie?”

I nod, feeling a smile spread across my face. “That sounds perfect.”

Chapter Seventeen

Heather

“Hey. I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“About?”

“Us,” he says, and the weight of that single word hangs in the air. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his dark hair falling slightly over his brow. “About my job.”

I set my cup down, a tiny splash of coffee spilling over the edge. “What about it?”

Lincoln's hand reaches out, almost touching mine before retreating. “It's... well, it's demanding. And I know we've both felt the strain. The commute to Houston, the long hours…” He pauses, searching for the words.

“Lincoln, your work is important. You help so many people.” I try to keep my voice steady, but there is a tremor.

He give me a wistful smile, his calm demeanor belying the seriousness of his confession. “I do, and I love it. But at what cost?” His gaze drops to the table before locking back onto mine. “I don't want to wake up one day and realize I've sacrificed the chance to build something with you for a job that, while fulfilling, leaves little room for anything else.”

“Is this about us not seeing each other enough?” My heart races, fearing where this conversation might lead.

“Partly,” Lincoln admit. “But it's more than that. It's about whether I can be the partner you deserve.”

His candidness breaks through the last of my defenses. “You're not asking too much. It's just... hard, you know? Feeling like we're in limbo.” My fingers fidget with the napkin beneath my mug, twisting it into a tight spiral.

Lincoln nods. “I know. And that's why we need to figure out where we go from here. Together.” He reaches out again, this time his hand enveloping mine, warm and steady.

“Okay,” I whisper, allowing myself to lean into the touch that promised to hold us together even when everything else seemed to be pulling us apart. “I’ve been having a rough few days. Fears, really. They reminded me of how easily someone can say they love you one minute and then…” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Then what?” Lincoln prods gently, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Then manipulate and control you,” I finish, meeting his gaze. The vulnerability felt raw and exposed, like an open wound.

“Ah, Heather,” he sigh, reaching across to place his hand over mine once more, attempting to bridge the emotional distance. “You're not with Michael anymore. You're with me, and I'm not him.”

“I know that, logically,” I concede, my green eyes locking onto his, searching for an assurance I wasn't sure could be promised. “But emotionally, it's like I've been programmed to expect the worst. To wait for the moment when the other shoe drops, and everything falls apart.”

“Is that what you think will happen with us?”

“I don't know,” I admit, a tremble in my voice. “That's the problem. I want to believe that what we have is different,stronger. But fear has this insidious way of clouding your judgment, you know?”

“Hey,” he whispers, tilting my chin up so our eyes met again. “We don't have to have all the answers right now. We just need to be willing to ask the questions. Together.”

“Can we do that?” I ask, the doubt evident in my tone.

“I guess there's only one way to find out,” Lincoln says, with a resolve that bordered on defiance against the uncertainties looming over us. His grip on my hand tightens, as if to reinforce his commitment to our journey ahead, wherever it may lead.

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