Chapter 18 Lincoln #2
“We talked to Vinny last week,” Sarah said, too sweet, too careful. “He told us you’d had some kind of accident. I’m so glad to see you’re doing okay.”
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets so I didn’t put one through their drywall. “You know who helped me?”
She gave me a smile too bright, too yellowed. “Who, dear?”
“Nina.” I said her name in warning. Because she deserved to be remembered, not someone whose name you’d forget.
Not even a flicker of recognition passed over her face until Matt muttered, “Your sister’s girl, honey.”
“Oh, sure. She’s a good girl. We did a good job.”
I almost laughed. A fucking good job. Overworking her. Stealing from her. She should’ve been cared for. “You realize she lived with a mold stain the size of her bed? Do you know how bad that is for her asthma?”
“Kid …” Matt started, the same slow, warning timbre my father would use before a backhand.
“I am not a fucking kid.” My fists burned.
Sarah’s smile cracked. She fussed with her curls, eyes darting toward Matt.
“How do you sleep at night?” I demanded, voice low and shaking from restraint.
Matt’s jaw shifted. He stepped forward, close enough for his stale-beer breath to hit me in the face. “Watch yourself, boy. You don’t get to come here and make accusations.”
I gritted my teeth until it hurt. “I’m not accusing. I’m telling you—I know.”
“You don’t know anything,” he snapped. “Her parents left her nothing. We took her in because we loved her.”
“Nothing?” My voice ripped out of me. “You undersold her home. Still, that house alone got you ninety grand.” Rage bubbled hot in my throat.
“And her father’s remodeling business? Another thirty.
” Matt’s eyes widened. I sneered. “I’ve done my homework.
” I paused. “I’m giving you an out—return what you owe her. ”
I’d sue them in a heartbeat if it were me. But Nina didn’t live for revenge and lawsuits. I had a feeling she’d scrape together whatever peace she could and just move on. She’d gotten herself used to accepting. That’s why I’d do this for her.
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “This is blackmail.”
I squared up, stepped into him, and pushed him with my chest. “That’s the card you want to play? Police? Let’s go.”
Sarah’s voice wavered, her hands up. “Lincoln, sweetie … she doesn’t know. Drawing attention to it—it would only make things harder.”
I barked out a laugh, bitter as bile. “Harder for who?”
Matt’s mouth twisted into something sharp, cruel. “For your best friend, for sure.”
My chest caved for a beat. Vinny. My anger roared back double. If he knew—if he’d been part of this—it didn’t make a difference. I’d do whatever I needed to look out for Nina.
“That’s right,” Matt said, eyes narrowing further. “You don’t know half of it. Now get the hell out.”
He tried to shove me toward the door, but he was weak and bounced off me. I stepped out by choice, and he yelled, “Don’t bother coming back.”
Fists clenched in my pockets, I stood by their leaning mailbox, taking a second to breath. My chest heaved, every exhale thrummed with rage.
I stared at their driveway, and she was there.
Denim overalls cut mid-thigh, hair dark as my regret pulled into a ponytail, headphones around her neck leaking “Songbird” into the summer night.
She’d smiled once when she caught me watching her, just for a second.
My chest split remembering it. The memory of her sorrow tempered my rage, but it only heightened when I remembered how she’d told me no.
Bile crawled up my throat at how I’d made her pay.
I couldn’t undo what I’d done to her. Couldn’t take her pain back. That was wasted breath. But I could make her life different now. Better. Even if she never forgave me. Even if she never looked at me again. Nina had no idea she’d been robbed blind by the people who were supposed to protect her.
The early spring wind cut sharp across my face. I pulled in a breath even though it scratched at my throat. And on my mother’s memory, I swore I’d make it better.
By the time I got to Lalo’s, the place was packed.
Candlelight flickered across the painted tendrils on the walls, and the wood beams above formed a lattice of shadows, dropping like stalactites.
Carmen was on the edge of a large group of people.
I zigzagged around, making my way to the table.
Carmen made people move so I could sit next to her as she introduced everyone.
I wasn’t in the mood to play nice with a bunch of strangers. Sadly, for me, they were in the mood.
“Hi!” A woman with curly brown hair, just above her shoulders, extended her hand. Her eyes were a dark chocolate, exact same shade as Carmen’s. “Martina,” she said. “How do you know Carmen?”
“We work together.”
I supposed that made five siblings. I turned to Carmen, and that’s when I saw them.
At the DJ booth. Wearing her own headphones, Nina was sliding dials and tapping buttons.
Diego’s hand rested over hers, guiding her through the settings.
He had lowered his head just enough that his lips were brushing her ear.
She laughed, hair cascading with the movement of her shoulders.
He smirked at her and adjusted his stupid-looking man bun.
They were so cozy together. When I finally tore my eyes away, Carmen was grinning.
“Lincoln,” she tutted, “don’t ignore my sister.”
I inclined my head at Martina. Satisfied, Martina turned and joined the group in conversation. Scattered among the eclectic group, two more women shared Carmen’s big brown eyes, shape of nose, line of features. Unmistakably sisters. I guessed there were five Camacho siblings.
“Where were you?” Carmen asked.
I clenched my jaw. My eyes wandered back to the scene in front of me—Nina and Diego dancing awfully close. His hands dug in her hips as his moved with the beat of the bass.
“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” Carmen smacked my shoulder, dragging my eyes away from them. “I told you it was a bad idea. Now we’re going to need something locked tight rather than just a smoking gun.”
“We already have both, and the longer we wait, the longer Nina’s struggling when she doesn’t need to.”
Carmen exhaled. A guy my age, light-brown hair, shirt too small for his muscular chest, cracked a joke at Carmen to get her attention.
His arm was slung over a woman with long chestnut hair, purple strands peeking through.
He had a pompous, teasing grin on his lips.
If he had dimples, I’d be staring at a mirror.
“Fuck off, Daray,” Carmen said without blinking. “Why don’t you turn all that charm to your fucking date? See if you can keep her attention for five minutes?” Carmen tilted her head almost imperceptibly at the woman under his arm.
While Daray talked to Carmen, the woman’s body angled toward a leaner, taller guy with dark hair.
His eyes, deep brown, stayed locked on her with a focus so fierce you’d think she was his center of gravity.
Maybe I looked at Nina the same way. Maybe all it took was the right person to turn you into an obsessed idiot.
Daray squeezed her shoulder once, bringing her attention back. He smiled at her, then pulled her in for a kiss that looked more like a show of ownership than affection.
The tall guy watched them until Daray angled his head and winked at him. Veins protruded on the guy’s neck, and he curled hands into fists, unable to look away.
“Eric,” Martina said, but he didn’t budge, fixated on a kiss that was dangling on the edge of inappropriate. “Eric,” she repeated, sharper this time. His gaze dragged reluctantly from the kiss toward Martina. “Why don’t you get me and Carmen a drink?”
Eric gave one last look at the couple, shut his eyes for a beat, and pushed up from the table to head for the bar.
Then Carmen murmured, “Incoming. Be cool.”
“What’s up, everybody?” Diego and Nina stood in front of the table. Both smiling casually, his arm resting comfortably on her shoulder.
That got the girl’s attention.
“Diego!” she said, and stood up.
“Hey, Amanda. It’s good to see you!”
She hugged him from the side Nina wasn’t on, then he left his arm also hanging over her. I’d bet a kidney he was loving it.
“Look at you, man.” The smile I’d just seen on Daray was on my lips now. “Looking like a walking cliché from one of those songs you were blasting—complete with the objectifying lyrics.”
Diego’s brown eyes focused on me, but it was the embarrassment in Nina’s eyes that sliced through me.
“Wow, thanks for the analysis, prof,” Diego said.
“Careful, though, your skin is starting to turn green.” Just like that, he turned back to face the girl.
“Is this everybody?” Diego asked. “Is your roommate coming, Amanda?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly her scene.”
Diego’s smile flickered for a second before he cranked it back up, louder and bigger than ever.
“Alright!” he shouted, clapping once, the sound snapping heads his way.
He hauled Nina tighter against his side.
“We’re celebrating tonight, people! My Nina”—he gave her a little shake, grinning down at her—“has a killer pitch opportunity coming up. And she’s going to crush it, right? ”
Her face flushed, and she laughed, tucking her chin for a second, but she didn’t draw away.
When he spun her under his arm, she lifted her free hand in mock surrender, half shy, half delighted.
She was enjoying being celebrated. Diego sharing her success front and center.
She was blushing and loving every second.
“So,” Diego finished, his voice booming over the noise, “we’re drinking and dancing to Nina totally owning that presentation.”