Chapter 30
LILY
The last few days have been a strange mix of emotions for me.
From being here without Logan for the first time, and dealing with all the memories and fresh grief that it evoked, to spending time with Max as a new couple, and things progressing with Zack.
I’ve been happy, sad, mad, grateful, excited, and above all, loved, except right now I’m pissed off.
My brother has once again taken to avoiding me and I’m not sure why.
Well that’s a lie, I do know why, but I just don’t understand it.
He seemed to be coming around, or at least I thought he was.
We fucked again, he stayed the night with us, he kissed and fooled around with Max, things were good.
For the first time since we lost Logan, I felt like I could be happy again, I was getting a preview of what it could be like between us, and then he ran away again.
It’s the last night of our vacation now, and Zack is once again actively avoiding looking at me, while he keeps himself in conversation with our dad.
He hasn’t exactly been obvious in his avoidance, but he has made sure not to be alone with us, and I’m not the only one who has noticed.
I can feel Elle looking between us in question, but like a coward I keep my stare cast down, because I honestly don’t know what I would say if she asked.
Max’s arm is steady across the back of my chair, his thumb rubbing my shoulder in comfort, though I’m sure he’s as tense as I am.
I don’t feel stressed, though I’m sure that’s thanks to the meds that have started circulating around my system, but a part of me wants to scream.
The last year has been hell, for all of us, something I didn’t appreciate enough until recently, but right now we have a chance to be happy.
To be more than our grief and loss, and after everything else we have been through, I don’t understand why Zack isn’t grabbing that chance with both hands.
His gaze strays from our dad, colliding with mine for only a second, before he snatches it away like a coward, and I sigh into Max’s hold.
“Careful, princess, you’re staring,” he grunts at my back, his fingers brushing my spine as his thumb continues his path back and forth.
I turn to look at him to find him also staring at Zack. “I’ll stop when you do.” My words are only loud enough for him to hear, and he smirks, taking a sip of his drink before he focuses his attention back on me.
“Oh, I’m too deep in this hell to stop now.
” His words have a joking lilt to them, but I know how loud they truly ring, he’s been on the sinking ship of my brother for as long as I have.
Ignoring the ache and longing he no doubt feels, he brings his hand from my shoulder to cup my face, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my lips before he adds, “Besides, how else would I taunt him into giving in?” He kisses me softly again, and it’s only now I realize the game he is playing.
“You’re playing with fire, Foster,” I purr, leaning into his touch, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.
“But that’s the only way you get burned, Royton.” He tosses me a wink, planting one more kiss on my lips, stroking his hand down my neck possessively, before pulling away.
I feel the heat of Zack’s stare, and when I look back at him he is watching us both with restrained lust. Now it’s my turn to smirk, because I know Max is right, Zack can deny this and push us away as much as he wants, but eventually he will snap completely.
The rest of the dinner his gaze is on us like a weighted promise, but much to my dismay, he excuses himself before anyone else, and we don’t see him again for the rest of the night.
I’m in bed now, Max snoring softly beside me after taking his pent-up lust and anger toward Zack out on me.
Not that I was complaining, but now as he sleeps soundly, my own slumber evades me completely.
It’s almost 2 a.m., and I’ve been tossing and turning for the last two hours before I finally give up and toss the covers aside.
Grabbing a nightgown, I slip it on before quietly leaving the room, heading down to the kitchen to make myself a drink.
My therapist said to watch what I drink while taking the meds, at least until I get used to them, but after weeks of going cold turkey, I need something to take the edge off.
I know where my dad and Zack store their liquor, so I move to raid the top of the pantry before I find a bottle of whiskey.
I don’t bother with a glass, just twist off the cap as I stalk back into the kitchen, but just as I am about to take a sip, I spot a shadowy figure sitting out on the back deck.
I’m not sure what possesses me to walk outside, whether it’s the guilt of ignoring him, the anticipation of alcohol, or knowing it’s what Logan would have wanted, but I make my way out there before I can convince myself otherwise.
The night air is cold as it hits me, the heaters long since been turned off, but Lincoln looks as if he barely notices it, as he sits staring out at the ocean.
I silently take a seat beside him, taking a sip of whiskey, before offering him the bottle, but he pulls up his own half-empty one from his other side.
We don’t say anything for a while, both of us just watching the waves crash in the distance, no doubt thinking about how things could have been.
We haven’t been this close since we had Logan’s dead body between us in the driveway, and I can still feel it there even now.
It’s like a deep, blood-filled chasm that will always exist at our feet, but it’s not just filled with his blood, it’s filled with hers too.
The one he exacted his revenge on for everything she did, the one who is truly to blame for all of this, and it’s time I accept that.
There is so much I could say to him, so much I should apologize for, but what’s done is done, so instead I find myself asking, “Did killing her help?” It’s the first thing I have said to him directly since the day he came back from killing her, and if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it.
He’s silent for a while, so long that I almost think he is going to ignore me, but he takes another drink from his own bottle and sighs. “Nothing helps, no matter what I do, or who I kill, it never makes it any easier.”
I nod, having already presumed that, knowing his feelings for my brother, but somehow hearing it makes me feel worse.
I think about how I would feel if I lost Zack or Max, how it would compare to lose someone I’m in love with versus someone I love.
I’d still be just as upset of course, but it would probably affect me differently, and I wonder how Lincoln feels without him.
We’ve never been close, not when we met, not when Logan started dating him, and certainly not after we lost him, but now it’s something we have in common. We both loved him and we both lost him, and there is nothing we can do to change that.
“You know the day I met the two of you, I mistook him for a threat,” he starts softly, still not meeting my stare.
“He went after Elle and I didn’t think, I just reacted.
I grabbed him by the back of the neck, and threw him against the wall with my hand around his throat.
” He shakes his head as if the memory haunts him, while I find myself soaking up every word, having not heard this story before.
“I told him he must have a death wish, but instead of looking scared, Lo-” he cuts himself off, as if just saying his name is too much, before taking another sip of his drink.
“He smiled at me, a fucking blinding smile that was trickling blood, and I remember thinking I’d never seen such a beautiful juxtaposition before. ”
His hand absentmindedly moves to his own throat, as his fingers stroke along the bottom, and I notice two things at once, first is the necklace my brother bought him for Christmas, right before he was killed.
A silver chain with a little crown charm that Logan and I picked out together.
I remember laughing at how excited he was when he bought them for him and Asher, and rolling my eyes when he had them engraved.
It was a silly gift, one I thought Lincoln and Asher would laugh at too, but here he is still wearing it even now.
His fingers trail over it meticulously, as if he has done so a million times before without realizing it, and a lump forms in the back of my throat.
He really did love my brother.
My eyes move to the second thing I saw, a small but thick jagged scar I have never noticed before, and I frown at the sight of it, trying to remember if I have ever heard how he got it.
Lincoln is a private person, he’s always been quiet and closed off, so I don’t actually know that much about him, but I don’t ever remember seeing this mark before.
I think back to the day he killed Vivian West, the woman responsible for this whole mess.
I remember him telling us exactly what he did to her, but I never once stopped to ask what she did to him.
I’ve already felt what she did to Logan with his death, I’ve seen what she did to Asher from his scars, but never did I ever think about the marks she left behind on Lincoln.
I have blamed him for my brother’s death so many times that I barely even think about Vivian, but looking at him now, I can see he blames himself even more.
“What did he say when you told him he must have a death wish?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly, and this time my question brings his gaze to mine.
His eyes always used to look like they held too much weight in them, and a whole cavern of secrets, but now they’re like an empty abyss. Like they have died from seeing too much, yet I see a flicker in them as he looks at me.