Take Me On

Red and blue lights become a homing beacon. My fingers drum the steering wheel as I coast into her driveway. The fear recedes as I see no ambulance, but then my frayed nerves explode in terror. What if the ambulance already took her? What if she’s dead?

Nausea spreads through me, making me dizzy. I can’t lose someone else I love. I can’t. Please, God, please let Lila be okay.

I dash out of the car, the memories of my parents breaking the news of Josh’s death replaying in my mind like a sick movie. I never got past the front door. I just saw them there, my parents crumpled together in a heap on the living room floor. My father holding my mother. My mother holding my father. Both of their faces consumed by tears.

I knew in that moment my brother had died.

My chest tightens and a crazy panic causes my hands to shake and my feet to quicken their pace. Not Lila. Not Lila, too. A police officer spots me and turns his head as if he’s going to say something, but I move faster—my feet pounding up the wooden stairs, my hand twisting the sun-baked knob, my shoulder forcing the door open.

My legs wobble when I see her standing in the middle of her living room, and if it weren’t for the two police officers in the room, I’d fall to my knees.

She runs a trembling hand through her rumpled golden hair as she wraps her other arm around her stomach. Even with the warm summer air creeping into the air-conditioned living room, goose bumps form on her arms. She wears only a tank top and shorts.

“Lila,” I say to expel the idea that I could be dreaming.

Both she and the police officer who speaks to her in a low, soothing tone glance at me. Relief smooths the lines on her forehead, and her arms drop to her sides. “Lincoln.”

My name leaves her mouth in a relieved, airy rush, as if she’s glad to see me. As if she wants to see me. And those gorgeous blue eyes stare at me like I’m her man. My heart squeezes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She bites her bottom lip while nodding.

Having no clue what to say, I scratch the back of my head. “I—”

And I don’t finish. Lila half stumbles, half runs into my body. The fact that she’s touching me, holding me, causes me to lose my balance. I quickly recover as her arms become steel bands around my waist.

I inhale, trying to figure out what to do. Ah, hell, she smells like her letters; like lavender. I press my cheek against her silky hair and ease one hand onto the small of her back while the other hugs her shoulders.

Lila falling into me is peaceful, like landing on a feather bed. She’s warm and soft, all curves and gentleness—alive, fitting perfectly into my body. Just as I imagined.

“It would be best if Miss McCormick isn’t alone tonight. Will you be staying with her, sir?” asks the police officer, but the way she tilts her head and smirks at her partner informs me she can guess my response.

“Yes,” Lila answers for me as she burrows her forehead into my chest. Her grip on me tightens. “I know him. He’ll stay.”

Everything stills. I have never heard sweeter words. She knows me and she wants me to stay. I’m not a stranger to her. Not some guy she barely identifies with. She knows me.

“Sir?” the officer prompts.

“Yeah,” I say. “I will.” I slide my hand along the curve of Lila’s spine. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Her nose moves against my chest as she nods. “Yes. Just freaked.” She pauses. “I’m sorry for sending you away.”

Lila peeks up at me and I give her a half smile. “I deserved it.”

For a split second, light shines in her eyes. “You sort of did.”

The police officer clears her throat and Lila steps away from me. My arms feel empty without her. It’s crazy. I’ve dated more than a few girls and have never had this reaction.

“Are you okay now, Miss McCormick?” the officer asks.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Thanks for coming.”

The police officers inch toward the door and I block their path. “Whoa. Wait. You’re leaving?”

“Lincoln...” Lila rubs her biceps. Her mouth scrunches to the right, calling my attention to her lips. “I...uh...was calling you...and I thought I saw someone...and I guess you answered right as I screamed...and I, ah...dropped my phone...then it turned off...and then the police came and said you called them and...yeah.”

And...yeah. Not buying it. “Blood. Curdling. Scream.”

Her eyes dart to the police, then away. “Well, I thought I saw something, but I was probably wrong.” Then she looks at me, her eyes pleading, begging for me to drop it.

The muscles in my neck tighten.

“We searched the property,” says the officer with a pitying smile at Lila. “And we didn’t find anyone. Miss McCormick knows she can call us if there’s an issue.”

They think it’s her imagination, yet I heard her terror. That type of scream can’t be created by a fear in your head. That’s death hovering in front of you wielding a bloody ax.