Chapter 13
Lincoln
Itook a seat on a bright mustard–colored couch opposite the window, across from Dr. Valeria Ross.
She was sitting in an indigo armchair, legs crossed, the bridge of her foot showing as her dress pants rode up.
Against her porcelain skin, the midnight-black updo seemed almost weightless and the scarlet tilt of her glasses gave her an air of effortless command.
Not that she’d care. It’d happened before.
I’d made fun of her books, her frigid expression, even her glasses.
She’d kept her amusement in check and returned in kind.
“Mocking me is your way to deflect. What would you feel if we kept the focus on you?” or “When we feel the need to get defensive, it’s often because we feel there’s truth to what’s being said. ”
She leaned back in her chair, shifting which leg crossed over which. “Lincoln, your injury bears no significance in your memory loss. It’s not that you can’t remember. It’s that you won’t.”
My jaw tightened. “That’s convenient for you to say, isn’t it? Keeps me coming here and paying you.”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, and made a note on her fucking clipboard. “I’m just pointing your avoidance out to you.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Avoidance? Of what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be avoiding. You act like I’m hiding some big secret when the truth is—I’m blank.”
She tilted her head. “Not blank. Selective. Your brain is working hard to keep certain pieces out of reach. But even now, there’re truths you can’t avoid, can you?”
Her words sank under my skin. Guilt. Shame. She was circling Nina without saying her name, and it made my stomach knot. “So what—you think I’m scared of the big bad truth? That if I just man up and face it, I’ll get the girl?” I snapped my fingers. “Just like that?”
She adopted her exaggerated calm, steady tone. “Your body remembers exactly what’s waiting behind that wall.”
I thought of last week’s conversation with Vinny when he’d finally had the guts to show up.
We’d been standing outside of Reality Bites.
I was tracing her inhaler in the inner pocket of my blazer.
My shoulders felt lighter, and a smile crept up my face when I spotted her through the window carrying mugs to a table with the ease of someone auditioning for an indie film.
Vinny had chuckled. The tension returned, raging and burning up my veins to lodge itself behind my vocal chords.
“Funny,” he’d said, “I always thought you were so weird with her because there was something there. Didn’t realize you had it this bad. There are better ways to flirt, dude.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I arched my brow and faced him, even as I kept track of Nina disappearing behind the counter and into the kitchen.
He lifted a shoulder and didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Just … back then, you pushed her. Hard. More than most people could take. But she did.”
I finally looked at him, fists tightly wound inside my pockets. “You said my mom had just passed and I was a dick to everyone. Was it worse with her?” I asked, afraid of the answer, even as the truth flashed in neon lights inside my empty mind.
Vinny glanced away, jaw tight. “You weren’t easy on her, man. And considering she’d just lost her parents herself …”
I swallowed, shame bubbling in my gut, but I focused on the anger in my throat. “You left her with me. I’d been a dick to her, and you left her with me.”
He shrugged. “I told you already, I thought you might have had a thing for her, and she needed help.”
Vinny playing fucking matchmaker. Could he be any more stupid?
“You left her hanging …. Did you ever see the apartment she lived in before? She’s asthmatic, dude. Could have killed her.” The image of Nina struggling to breathe, white as a sheet, so weak she melted into my touch, made me shudder.
Vinny tensed, and his gaze fell to the sidewalk, but the purplish hue from his lack of sleep became more pronounced. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, well … I wanted to give her something, you know? Give rather than take just for once.”
I frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly. His eyes flicked back to the café, then away. “Just saying. You had that trust fund your mom left you. My parents paid for my college. She had none of that …”
He’d smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles on his dress shirt.
“She thrived, though.” I’d pushed him.
“Kinda. She scraped by.” Vinny had shrugged. “It’s her thing. Certainly no thanks to me or you.”
Vinny’s words swirled in my head, leaving a sour taste as they tangled with the therapist’s. Her not-so-gentle push snapped me back into the session.
“And I think that part of you is terrified—because remembering means facing the deep consequences of your fixation with this woman.”
I bristled. “Her name is Nina.”
Dr. Ross drove through my deflection. “The sarcasm, the undermining, the power plays. It’s some deep-seated defense.”
“Oh, please. If I was that much of a monster, she wouldn’t have stayed with me, would she?”
But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
The tension coiled behind my ribs, a pressure tangling around my vocal chords, wanting to snap out in sharp words.
I’d have let it loose if not for Nina—just the image of her shifting under my gaze and flinching under my touch made the heat in my chest curl into something …
careful. Instead of lashing out, I swallowed it down, my need to smooth things between us shaping the edge of my thoughts.
Ross’s gaze softened then, and that was worse than the steel. “Or maybe she needs you to confront it. The grief, the hurt, the pain. That’s the difference between the two of you. She’s confronted it all. You’ve run from it.”
The words landed heavy, too close to something I couldn’t name. My mouth opened, then closed again. For the first time, I didn’t have a comeback ready.
I held her stare blankly. Wasn’t this her job, though? To help me figure out how to do it?
She tugged at the sleeves of her blazer, her focus nowhere near me, as if she wasn’t getting paid to fix me. “Look,” she said, “we’ve been doing multiple sessions a week. I’m good at what I do. But therapy won’t work if you don’t want it to. I won’t spoil my success rate for you.”
I sank into the chair. She thought there was no hope for me: forever the asshole.
Just like Nina. The lump in my throat resurfaced, tightening and wrenching until it threatened to not just break but explode.
Then I realized that giving into the anger would prove her right: I’d always be asshole Lincoln.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, eyes firmly on my shoes. “So, you’re saying I can’t take away her hurt?”
Dr. Ross didn’t respond for such a stretched silence I lifted my eyes to hers.
“That’s better,” she said. “This works better when we hold eye contact.” She held my gaze and nodded.
“No, she hasn’t forgotten. You can’t take away her pain, you shouldn’t.
If she’s this important in your life, you need to acknowledge and honor her pain. Especially if you caused it.
“You’re not a lost cause, Lincoln, but you have to want to make changes. This douche-bag energy that you keep bringing here …. That approach isn’t productive, and I don’t engage in distractions.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to call me that.”
“I’m a little unconventional.” She smirked. “I mean it, though, your attitude’s a distraction.”
She let that hang between us, her blue eyes dark and judgmental on mine. I figured out pretty quickly that I was uncomfortable because she was right. I couldn’t become the man Nina deserved on my own. And she was willing to help me.
“I’ve …,” I whispered. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
Her expression remained impassive for a few seconds, then her lips quivered, borderline smiling. “Do tell,” she said.
“Nina said I don’t know what it’s like. The whispers and feeling ridiculed by everyone because of rumors and whatever else.” I swallowed.
She smiled in response. “Well, that’s somewhere to start, isn’t?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think I know exactly what to do with it.”
She arched a brow. “And would you benefit from thinking through this with me?”
I shook my head. “Actually, I wouldn’t. I have a clear idea, and I think it’ll be meaningful that I execute this on my own.”
She leaned in. “And you’re following the protocol we created for when you run into gaps?”
I nodded. “Really, I’ve got it. This will be good for me.”
She schooled her expression back into neutrality, then made a note on her clipboard.
“Just remember: vulnerability is a two-way street, Lincoln. That’s where you should start with Nina, if you really feel this strongly about her.”
And Dr. Ross may not have known, but that’s exactly what I intended to prove that I could be vulnerable and put myself through whatever Nina had been through.
Even without talking it out with Ross, I felt good about my plan.
I didn’t think it’d make a real difference, but I was certain Nina’s petty, playful side would appreciate it.
That’s why it was so important I concocted this myself.
When I pushed the door open, the sound hit me first—something low and aching, beats adding a sharp rhythm, Spanish lyrics spilling from her phone.
I stood in the entryway, staring into the kitchen, fixated on Nina.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I’d tried.
The sway of her hips, the hair brushing her neck.
There’d never been a time I hadn’t been hyperaware of the woman, but the way she moved now evoked a confession wrapped in melody.
And all I could do was follow her every movement, my missing memories rendering anything I said insufficient and deceptive.