I wake up at nine and frown at the unfamiliar room. But then I remember that Dimitri got drunk and we both ended up staying with Sandra and Lincoln.

I get up and make the bed. I walk to the kitchen and find Lincoln making something.

"Morning," I say. He turns around and smiles.

"Morning," he says. "There's coffee."

I get up and pour some into a mug. I add cream and then sit down. Lincoln hands me two bowls and sits down across from me.

"It's yogurt with homemade granola and fresh fruit drizzled with honey," he tells me. I take a bite. Damn, I forgot how good of a cook he was.

"Are they still sleeping?" I ask. Lincoln nods.

"They both got up earlier and called in sick," he tells me.

I shake my head, grinning. "Of course they fucking did." I take a few bites of fruit. "This is really good, by the way."

"Thanks," he says. "Do you have any plans for today?"

"No," I say.

"I was going to go grocery shopping. You can go with if you want," Lincoln says.

I smile. "Sounds good," I say. We eat for a few minutes. "Wait, don't you have work?"

Lincoln shrugs. "I took the day off," he says.

We finish eating and then deal with the dishes. Lincoln hands me a jacket. "It's cold out," he says. I slip it on and it smells like him. We walk out of his apartment and out of the building. The air is crisp and cold. "Do you mind walking?" he asks.

"Walking's good," I say. He nods. "Do you think they'll realize we're gone?"

"Not really. They were both passed out," Lincoln says. He looks at me. "I'm sorry, but why are you on trial?"

I sigh. "It's not important." I look at him. "Why are you running your father's business when you should be working at a restaurant or something?"

Lincoln sighs. "I don't know," he says. "I used to own a cafe and I truly loved it."

"Why'd you leave it?" I ask.

Lincoln runs his hands over his face. "That woman that you remind me of? She left me and I had no reason to stay. Everything was too painful." He almost smiles. "We met at my cafe. But after...I just couldn't be there. I figured I'd be better off in New York."

"Why didn't you open a cafe here?" I ask.

"I was going to. But my father passed and I felt like I owed him something," Lincoln tells me. "The son of a bitch never did a single good thing."

"He was your dad. You can't just forget about that," I say.

Lincoln looks at me. "How can you say that? You're the one that hasn't talked to your parents in years."

"I have my reasons." After Braxton raped me the first time, they told me I was asking for it, that I wanted it.

Lincoln sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not usually like this."

"Emotional?" I ask. He shrugs. "Like I said, it seems like you're just going through the motions. You need to get over Adelaide."

He frowns. "You remembered her name?" I shrug and he sighs. "You're right. I am just going through the motions. But do you know what the weird thing is?"

"What?"

"Ever since I met you, I've been seeing things differently. I've been feeling more," he tells me, shaking his head.

"I'm glad to help," I say. We keep walking.

"What about you?" Lincoln asks. I frown, looking at him. "What do you love?"

I sigh. "I used to love writing," I say. "But I can't do it anymore."

"What happened?" Lincoln asks.

"I guess I'll never know." But I do know. Braxton happened. I was always writing, non-stop. Always thinking about characters and plot. Writing was the one thing that I was exceptional at.

But then I stumbled into Rose & Bone Publishing. It was good until I met Braxton. I slowly started to write less and less as he got worse. And then he raped me and I wasn't writing. All I could think about was the trial and how everyone kept telling me over and over again that it was my fault.

"You write those books, Adelaide...You liked it like that...What did you expect?"

But I moved on and met Lincoln. I started to write again. I fell in love with writing all over again. And I fell in love with Lincoln.

After Braxton came back the second time, I couldn't write. Looking at my laptop made me sick.

Lincoln touches my shoulder gently. I blink. "Sorry," I say.

"No worries." He looks at me. "Do you see that storefront?"

"Yeah. Why?" I ask. His eyes are excited, they're bright.

"I want to open a cafe there," he says.

I smile. "You should."

"Thank you, Kincaid," he says. We keep walking. We walk into a grocery store and make small talk as we walk around.

It feels good to be around Lincoln, even if it's just as friends. It's funny, he's almost the same person he was. Lincoln's still sweet and charming, but he's slightly bitter and more closed off.

We finish shopping and walk back to his apartment. Dmitri and Sandra are still sleeping.

"Damn," I say, laughing. "I swear, they're just like teenagers."

Lincoln laughs. "Yeah. I'm going to go shower," he says. I nod and sit down in the kitchen. I sigh and stand up. I look in the living room. Dimitri's passed out on the floor, sleeping hard and Sandra's sprawled across the couch.

I smile and start walking to the kitchen. I shiver. Fuck, I'm cold. I walk into a bedroom, looking for a blanket. My heart starts beating. I'm in Lincoln and Sandra's bedroom.

"You're such a loser," I mutter quietly. I look in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I frown and pull out a journal. I stand up and look around. I open the journal. Pictures fall out.

Oh.

The pictures are of Lincoln and I. Tears sting my eyes as I look at how happy we were. I look through the journal. It's filled with Lincoln's cramped handwriting. I skim through a page. He talks about Adelaide and how he can't get her out of his head. How he still loves her and will do anything to find her.

I flip to the first page. It's dated to the day he came back from New York to find me gone.

"Oh, god," I mutter and press my hand to my mouth.

"What are you doing?" Lincoln asks harshly from behind me. I jump and drop the journal.

"Sorry." I pick up the journal and the pictures. Lincoln snatches it from my hands.

"I asked what you were doing," he says. He's standing a few inches away from me. He's only wearing a towel.

"I was just looking for a blanket," I say. "I was cold." He walks closer to me and my back hits the wall.

"How much did you read?" His eyes are angry.

"I didn't read anything," I say. I'm breathing quickly.

His eyes search mine. "Why do you look sad?"

I blink the tears away and swallow. "I'm not sad."

His fingers touch my cheek gently. "What's wrong?" he asks softly.

I bite my lip. Lincoln's right. I am sad. I'm sad because I'm remembering how happy we used to be. How good we were for each other. And then I'm realizing just how much I hurt Lincoln. I'm realizing how he still feels about Adelaide, how he hasn't let her go.

"She...she made you happy?" I ask. His eyes close as he nods.

"Yeah," he murmurs.

"But she left?" I don't know why I'm asking him.

Lincoln nods. "She left and I never knew why."

I take a deep breath and my chest brushes against his. I blink and it hits me again that he's only wearing a towel. Water from his hair drips onto me.

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "It's not your fault."

I take another deep breath and my heart skips a beat when my chest touches his. "I'm sorry that you got hurt," I say. "You didn't deserve it, Lincoln."

His thumb brushes my lip and he sighs. "It's not your fault," he says again.

"I remind you of her?" I ask. He nods. "I'm sorry for that."

He leans slightly closer to me, his lips brush my ear. "It's okay," he murmurs. Lincoln pulls away. He hands me a sweatshirt. "Please don't look through my stuff."

I nod and walk away, blinking. I slip on Lincoln's sweatshirt and try not to think about him.

Dimitri and Sandra are both in the kitchen. "Oh, hey," I say.

Dimitri smiles. "Hey," he says.

"Damn, I feel like hell," Sandra says, rubbing her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" I ask Dimitri.

He wraps his arms around my waist. "Better now that you're here."